


Remedied

by fromthegallows



Category: I Don't Know How But They Found Me (Band), Panic! at the Disco, The Brobecks
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Fanfiction, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gay, High School, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 75
Words: 884,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24833809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthegallows/pseuds/fromthegallows
Summary: Brendon had a plan. Dallon wasn't a part of that, until he was.Everything he did was put into a box. Everything had a label. Everything belonged somewhere. Brendon just wanted to figure out where Dallon belonged in all of that.A story about discovering your sexuality, accepting yourself, and navigating through mental illness as you grow. About finding connections in people you never thought you would. About opening up and having walls up and teaching each other lessons and braving storms.A story about approaching the world in different ways, and changing old habits, bettering yourself, trying to know everything but learning that that's nearly impossible. About irrational fears and their roots. About overcoming and understanding and pushing forward.About loss. About grief and coping and isolation and letting people in.A story about pasts and presents and healing.A story about becoming remedied.Pasts are complicated. So are people. What's the point in planning anything at all? A high school AU.
Relationships: Brallon - Relationship, Brendon Urie/Dallon Weekes, Dallon Weekes/Ryan Ross (past)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 53





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I started writing this fic when I was sixteen. I'm twenty now, and I wanted to finally put it out into the world. Be nice. Trigger warnings will be at the beginning of chapters; this can get heavy, but give it a read! It's gonna be a long one.  
> This fic is already complete, but I'll update it every few days just so it isn't overwhelming. Please let me know if you like it :)

Brendon Urie was searching for something. He didn't really know it at first, it just kind of crept up on him one day like a tap on the shoulder from a stranger he had yet to be introduced to. In fact, it came to him one Thursday afternoon in eighth grade. It was during math class at twelve twenty-six p.m.; he looked at the clock to check when the class would end and lunch would begin. He remembered because he knew it was four minutes, and then he started thinking.

What was four minutes, really? It was just time. Time was just some weird frame that held up his days and nights and kept everything in order. Was it necessary? He wasn't sure at the time, though his doubts never really got any clearer. In fact, nothing ever got clearer, though he didn't suspect it at the time. He came to the realization that he had to search for something to make all this wasted time worth it.

The manifestation of questionable morals. Searching, but never finding. Was he supposed to look for himself? How was he supposed to do it? What was the purpose of any of it? Why was he born if he was just going to die one day in something of ninety years, assuming he could even make it that long? How was he supposed to live if he spent all his time worrying about wasting it? There were so many questions that a thirteen-year-old Brendon wanted answers to, and just about the same amount were left unknown. Brendon didn't like not knowing; he had always been one for organization. He couldn't organize what didn't have distinct qualities.

He was told that it was normal to not know himself or what he was missing, but Brendon still clung to the theory that everything needed to be a certain way, and he didn't stray from that theory in all his years. Things belonged in categories, they had to have, but he didn't. And it didn't help that everything around him was everchanging, but he hated change. Change meant pushing things out of their boxes and into new ones, and that was a lot of work for one boy.

Brendon didn't know if he was supposed to look for what he needed or to let it sneak up on him like the realization that he needed to find something had, but how did you search for something if you didn't know what it was? Whatever wasn't present had no face, it was just an unabating feeling of disquietude that he couldn't shake. And the worst part was that the feeling wasn't transient; it was always there, lingering like a dark cloud, and so he let it float with him.

He didn't know what it was, but something visceral and intangible was missing. And he intended on finding it.


	2. Chapter 1: On His Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here she is! Disclaimer: I really do not like the first few chapters, but I didn't feel like rewriting them all.  
> Also, I don't ship Joshler, sixteen-year-old me wrote this and by the time I stopped shipping it I didn't want to change plot points that much. Bear with me. There are a lot of things I'd change if I wasn't so lazy, but overall I'm kind of proud of this mess.  
> Leave some kudos if you like it!

“Get out!" Brendon yelled at the top of his lungs, banging his fists against the bathroom door desperately because his sister couldn't seem to take the hint. On the other side of the door she made a noise of acknowledgment but didn't unlock it, instead pretending he wasn't there. Everyone else always seemed to, anyway. "Come on!"

"Give me a minute!" Kyla called back from the other side of the door, and he stomped his foot like a child. She did this every day, the rest of the family had to get in there too, it was Monday, and he banged his fists against the door again.

"You've had like, a million minutes!"

"Brendon, stop yelling," Mason shouted from his room, if not a little hypocritically, down the hall from where the youngest was standing impatiently outside the bathroom. Brendon groaned at the lack of respect, fuck, leaned his head back against the wall, and banged it a few times for good measure. Maybe if he hit it hard enough, he would get a concussion and then they'd all feel bad. Maybe it would get him out of school, too.

"I'm gonna piss in your bed!" He screamed.

"Brendon!" Brendon's mom called a warning from downstairs and he looked up at the ceiling in distress.

The bathroom door swung open and his sister appeared in place of it, her makeup done and hair straightened as the faint smell of burning came from beyond the bathroom door. He stared at her in disbelief: he thought they'd worked something out. They didn't have family meetings for nothing.

"What, are you going to prom or school?" Brendon asked sardonically, going to take the doorknob in his hand as they switched places.

She rolled her eyes, didn't have time for him, as she headed down the hall to leave him to clean her mess. "You look like a mess, B. You should shower."

"I would if someone didn't spend so much goddamn time in the bathroom! And stop doing your hair in here, please, Kyla, it smells like fire." Brendon called as she disappeared into her room. He heard his mom yell at him to watch it, but he just shut and locked the bathroom door behind him and tugged his zipper down.

A loud knock caught his attention as he brushed his teeth, not entirely unexpected though it managed to get him every morning. He looked up at himself in the mirror, at tired brown eyes and dark rings underneath them. He'd stayed up all night working on an essay, listening to his brothers' music down the hall, trying not to think again when he got too overwhelmed.

Being the youngest of five, Brendon found himself trying to find his place in an otherwise hectic and loud family, living up in a house above the best diner in Boulder City, Urie's diner— the homespun, lovable product of Grace and Boyd Urie that was just as precious as their children. Brendon was the last of the Uries at sixteen years old, which still made him the baby. Matt and Kyla were seniors in high school, Mason a freshman in college, and Kara a junior, the oldest of the five and Brendon's confidant. Despite everything Brendon appreciated them still living at home, his family, how close they were. It was hectic, but Brendon liked it.

Sometimes.

"Leave me alone!" He yelled through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"I have to get ready!" Matt's voice came from the hallway, muffled through the door. He sighed again and rinsed out his mouth, rolling his eyes at himself because he was the only one he had, and pulled the door open to see his brother glaring at him though he wouldn't bother glaring back, wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"All yours." He made a wide sweeping gesture toward the open bathroom and ducked out into the hallway.

"You might wanna get dressed. You look like a vagrant." Matt called after his brother, making his way to his room to hide.

"Shut up." Brendon ducked into his room at the end of the hall and shut his door behind him to get a little bit of privacy, feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden. Too many people could do that to him.

“Morning, keiki.” His mother greeted when he padded into the kitchen, moving around him as he went to grab a bowl out of the cabinet and a spoon from the drawer, finding the milk and cereal out on the table.

"Morning." He crossed the kitchen, tapping his spoon aimlessly against his empty bowl. "Hey, Kyla keeps straightening her hair in the bathroom and it smells like fire. She knows it freaks me out. I don't know why she does it in there when she has a bedroom and a mirror."

He heard her sigh and he hated to bring her into it but he had to sometimes, when they wouldn't listen to him. “I will talk to her about it. How’d you sleep?”

“The usual.” He claimed a seat at the head of the table, fixing his bowl as she turned to look at him over her shoulder.

She clucked her tongue, knew what that meant, and as he went to check his phone mindlessly she asked, “You’re working today after school, right?”

He looked up at her, confused, and shook his head. "No, I'm hanging out with Tyler." He answered through a mouthful of cereal, forgetting his manners.

"No, we're gonna need you today." She insisted, but he wasn't on the schedule, he'd double-checked the night prior, and she went to hand him a napkin as milk dripped down his face like a child learning how to eat.

Brendon swallowed and shook his head again, making her cross her arms. "Mama, you have to let me know like, a day in advance. I made plans. I’m not on schedule.”

“It doesn’t matter, Bren. It’s an obligation.” She shrugged, never having taken into account what he considered to be obligations because they really valued family around there. And it wasn’t like he didn’t, it was just that sometimes he needed a break. A break she didn’t always let him have. “Have Tyler come to the diner.” She added as a second thought. “Maybe he can work too. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

"Yeah, the day he works is the day I turn straight." He took another spoonful of cereal into his mouth, watching his mother roll her eyes.

"Haha, you're so funny."

"Thanks, I know." He flashed her a cheeky grin and jumped up, heading toward the front door to get himself ready once he'd shoveled in enough cereal to last him until lunch. "Where are my shoes?"

She shrugged and turned back toward the coffee pot, not bothering to offer him some because she hated that he drank it. But he eyed it as he disappeared, scrounging through the pile of shoes and looking for his own. "Wherever you left them." She called, and he rolled his eyes right back at her. "Hurry up, you can't be late again."

"Don't sass me." Brendon spotted his worn-out black converse by the door, ironically where he'd left them Friday afternoon, and went to pull them on carefully, He'd almost broken his nose trying to get the things on once, never quite having grown out of his clumsy phase from childhood. He found his backpack where he’d dropped it, neglecting his weekend homework as he did when he got overwhelmed, and slung it over his shoulder as he headed out. "Bye, mama."

"Be home right after school!" She called right as he shut the door behind him and descended the staircase, leading down to the street where he could feel a waft of air come up from under the door. He let himself out and started down the sidewalk, his sneakers tapping against the ground in a solemn greeting, as he turned to watch his dad flip the closed sign on the door to say open.

He waved to his elderly neighbor across the street while she worked on her front garden, raking up the mess from the pine in her yard, and hurried down the sidewalk as they exchanged good mornings. He had been conditioned to be friendly with everyone in the neighborhood since he was a child, being the youngest of a well-known family whose diner was one of the best in the city. It was part of the job, but he didn’t mind a friendly smile.

The sky was gray and the air had a slight chill to it so Brendon tugged his jacket tighter around his shoulders and folded his arms, squinting up at the sky like it were a challenge. It was past mid-October and leaves were starting to make their dramatic exits, falling off the trees and spiraling to the ground below. Brendon loved the fall, when all the sports started so none of the jocks or cheerleaders at his school showed up at the diner, too busy to bother. He preferred not to see boys who always teased him at his family's diner. Serving them was embarrassing. Working with his parents was enough.

Boulder City, Nevada. A half an hour from Las Vegas, in a little neighborhood where crossing paths with familiar faces was routine, and not a favorable one for a sixteen-year-old boy in high school. Especially not one with his notoriety. But he really did love his home, just a few ways away from all the lights and the buzz. He preferred this anyway, his quiet walks alone as the city around him awoke. A creature of habit, maybe, but he preferred it that way.

As he approached the front steps of the school a familiar hand grabbed his arm and linked them together to pull him along, a routine that on the contrary, he rather liked. "What's up, B Urie?"

Brendon dipped his head to look at his best friend with a sigh. "Don't hate me, but I've gotta take a raincheck on our date today." He said apologetically, though he’d canceled enough times for Tyler to be used to it. "Serving people french fries and putting on a fake smile beckons."

"Now even my best friend won't go on dates with me." Tyler huffed, tugging him up the front steps with his natural bouncy gravity as Brendon tried to keep pace. "I really need a boyfriend."

"And if you'd ask out dear Joshua, then you could climb out of my ass and beg him to spend time with you instead."

"One does not ask out Joshua Dun, tiny. One marvels at his beauty from afar and cries themselves to sleep at night." Tyler put a hand to his chest dramatically, and Brendon looked at him with a frown. "Kidding. Well, not about that first part. He's so pretty. But so out of my league. I happen to think marveling from afar is effective enough."

Brendon rolled his eyes, tucking a hand into his jacket pocket and picking at his phone case aimlessly to have something to do with his hands. Tyler was confident but the boy would never make an effort toward the only crush that, throughout a few years, ever stuck. "By marveling from afar you mean sitting next to him in physics every day because he's your lab partner."

"I know," Tyler sighed wistfully, "we share a calculator." They turned into a new hallway and when Brendon looked away Tyler tugged his arm to get his attention again, never letting him take a break so long as they were together. "But speaking of gorgeous boys that we love to marvel at from afar..." He elbowed him knowingly in the side.

Brendon elbowed him back, and Tyler shifted away from him when he not so accidentally jammed it into his rib cage. "Stop." He warned.

"Seriously!" Tyler threw a hand up in exasperation and Brendon sighed, regretting ever telling him anything. He preferred carefully narrow avoidance, mostly, having gotten used to that for the better part of sixteen years. "You've liked this kid since freshman year, B. Make a move."

"Says you," Brendon huffed; that was a little hypocritical. "And you promised that you wouldn't talk about it anywhere in public. The last thing I need is for someone to overhear and blackmail me. So please, for the love of all things pure and holy, Tyler, shut the fuck up."

"Nothing is pure and holy in my world. And you watch too much TV." Tyler decided as he squeezed Brendon's arm with his own. They weren't living in some teen drama, though sometimes it really felt like they were. "I'm still coming over after school."

"Mother Urie might put you to work." Brendon let go of Tyler's arm and walked toward his first classroom of the day, already feeling that dread deep in his stomach. "She might need new hires."

"She knows better than to do that." He blew Brendon an air kiss, and then again not everything about this place was all that bad. "Goodbye, my dear."

Brendon laughed; he was probably right. Besides, the diner was his. He needed that one thing to himself. "Bye." He nodded, disappearing into his history classroom.

Morning shifted into afternoon and then he was on the short walk home again with Tyler, listening to him talk about some drama between their peers, he was always on top of that all. Brendon led him into the diner, already tired and not even having put on his apron yet, and his mom called from behind the counter, “Get to work, keiki.”

“Hello to you too.” He retorted, and she shot him a look but didn’t respond. On busy days like today they didn’t make much room for banter. “Okay, let me bring my bag up first. I’ll be down in a minute.”

She nodded and Tyler slid into a stool at the counter when Brendon ran upstairs, tossing his bag in the front room though he knew he’d get lectured sooner or later about leaving things where they didn’t belong. He returned downstairs out of breath, one staircase really got to him, and his mother nodded a head toward the tables. “Okay, Brendon, hana. Let’s hop to. Orders aren’t gonna take themselves.”

“Oh, how easy it would be if they could.” He accepted his pad of paper and found his waist apron under the counter, dark green with a pink, cursive, Urie’s Diner on it. He tied it around his waist, a uniform he’d grown to get used to but hated, and Tyler smiled like it was a joke as Brendon turned to catch his mother printing out a receipt at the register. “So why don’t you ever make Tyler do any work? He’s basically part of the family anyway. And he just sits here and does nothing. All day. Taking up space at the counter, preventing any actual customers from sitting here.” Tyler reached out to make grabby hands at the soda machine and Brendon rolled his eyes, grabbing him a glass. “Alana?”

“Yes sir. Mahalo, baby Urie.” Tyler grinned, accepting the glass of orange soda when he slid it his way. “And it’s because I’m her favorite, better looking son. Duh.”

“Please, Tyler, you’re so pitiful.” Brendon rolled his eyes and his mother elbowed him in the side, a little too rough on him though she wouldn’t listen when he told her so. But he was a couple of minutes late, and Monday afternoons were busy.

“Alright.” His mother interrupted, and then again, he could try a little harder. “Go take table two’s order, Bren, you’re behind.” She pointed her pen at the left corner booth and Brendon turned to look at the customers before he stopped short, suddenly glued to his spot behind the counter. He swore that someone up there was out to get him.

“Oh, fuck.” He turned to face the soda machine so they wouldn’t look back to see him, face burning already. “Uh, no. I’m not— I’m not gonna do that. I’ll take the counter today, or wash dishes, or-“

“Nope, I have the counter today. Stop being weird.” She pat his shoulder as she went to place an order down for Brendon’s father and Tyler turned around to see three familiar faces at table two, smiling in delight when he caught sight of them. “Why? What’s going on? Are those boys mean to you?” She stood up on her toes and Brendon tsked, reaching out to smack her arm. She couldn’t be more obvious if she tried.

“Mama, stop.”

“Tell her that you can’t go anywhere near that table because you’re so desperately in love with the boy sitting there,” Tyler said cheekily, though he promised not to say anything, and her eyebrows skipped high in amusement when Brendon covered his face with his hands. He never meant to tell anybody about Dallon. He just wanted to keep that all a secret. “See, he’s the one on the inside, wearing the yellow sweater. Nose ring, blue eyes.”

She peeked not so inconspicuously at the group again and Brendon let out a noise of distress. Dallon Weekes had been in his line of vision since high school orientation, a week before their freshman year started, though Brendon still couldn’t figure out why. And maybe it was stupid, and hopeful, and a dumb love at first sight, girlish notion of romance. But he wasn’t like everybody else. He didn’t smile or look excited about high school and when the guidance counselor asked him to share one fact about himself, he said no because he didn’t want strangers to know anything about him.

They’d talked a few times. Ran into each other often during their first few years of school. But Brendon couldn’t seem to get past smiling forced smiles at him in the hallway because he was too scared to talk to him.

Dallon sat on the inside of the booth, smiling this smile that wasn’t really a smile as across the table, Josh told a story to him and this kid Ryan that Brendon knew from school. Brendon had been avoiding him for years, save for a few run-ins at school, or hello’s at lunch, or liking each other’s posts online to keep things friendly. To stay on each other’s radar. But Brendon had never seen him here, served him, intruded on a moment between him and his friends in a life that Brendon wasn’t a part of.

“Go talk to him.” His mother encouraged, getting him in the side with her elbow. He looked over his shoulder at them, eyebrows knit together in worry. “Go, Bren.” She urged, and he turned to look at her as if to ask if he had to. “It’s not the end of the world. He’s just a boy. And you have to take their order. They’re on your side.”

Brendon sighed, turning around and watching Dallon flip the menu shut. She was right. They were on his side. “What do I say?” He felt around in his apron pocket for his pen.

“May I take your order?” His mother suggested, giving him a helpful nudge.

“And then,” Tyler pat him on the back, guiding him out from behind the counter where he was left without a shield, “everything else.”

“I hate you guys,” Brendon muttered under his breath, and with a cheeky grin Tyler turned in his seat to watch as he approached the table in the corner. He took a deep breath, put on his I’m-obligated-to-smile-at-you-it’s-my-job smile, and wiggled his pen awkwardly in his hand when they looked up at him as he interrupted the conversation, but didn’t mean to. When the three boys saw him he pointedly avoided Dallon’s eyes, and met Ryan’s instead because it was easier, less confrontational.

“Hey!” Ryan pointed to Brendon in that I know you familiarity and Brendon pressed his lips together in a smile, heat rising to his cheeks at the attention, unused to more than a polite smile and a have a nice day.

“Hi, Brendon,” Dallon said, smiling politely, and Brendon felt like he was going to puke. He was as gorgeous as he was from across the room, and in photos, and in dreams, when Brendon dared to dream of him. Brendon looked at him, caught his gaze for a second too long, and Dallon had no idea what he knew.

“Hi, Dallon.” He greeted, and they felt like old friends. “Hi, you guys.” He added, and the three of them smiled, and Dallon kicked at Ryan’s leg playfully under the table when Brendon asked, “What can I getcha?”

They listed off their orders and Brendon scribbled them down before he left them to their conversation to return behind the counter where he could hide. He gave his dad the order as he grabbed three glasses, filling them each with ice, and Tyler grinned up at him with the straw of his drink in between his teeth. “He knows your name.”

“He knows my name.” Brendon sighed, Dr. Pepper and two Cokes, and turned to look at his best friend as he set them on a tray.

“And as soon as you know it, he’ll be saying I do to it at your wedding.” Tyler sighed too, maybe mockingly, and tilted his head dreamily but didn't miss the look Brendon gave him.

“Censor yourself, Ty, please.” Brendon shushed him; no one ever seemed to get it. That he was scared. Nobody ever really got it.

Tyler rolled his eyes but got the hint, watching Brendon cross the diner again to bring the boys their drinks. “Gracie Grace, your kid’s a baby.” He chimed, and Brendon’s mother returned behind the counter with a handful of empty plates.

“Oh, trust me, I know.” She pat her youngest on the shoulder while he squeezed by and went to fill a glass with Sprite. “What now?”

Tyler looked between Brendon and his mother, catching the glare he was giving him. It was probably his place to tell her, anyway. He hadn’t been telling anyone anything lately. “We’ll talk about it later.” He got the hint, and Brendon forced a smile in thanks. “Goodbye, mother dear, math homework is calling. And unfortunately, I must answer.” He jumped up, slinging his bag over his shoulder and almost bumping into a customer but just managing to miss them. “Put the drink on my tab. Later, baby Urie.”

“I’ll see you.” Brendon nodded his head at him, slipping his tray underneath the counter and watching his best friend go. He needed the support, and he understood his enthusiasm, that it came from a place of love. But he was reluctant, anyway, knew it was all for a good reason but couldn’t seem to admit that.

“So.” His mother said quietly that evening as Brendon picked at the cookies she’d baked that weekend, choosing the one with the most chocolate chips like he’d done since he was a kid. He barely looked up as he shifted his weight on socked feet, changed into pajamas and out of his work clothes, as he knew where this was going. It was where it always went. “The boy.”

“God.” Brendon sighed, and he knew she wasn’t going to let it pass.

“You never told me about you liking a boy. We were starting to think you never would.” She placed a hand on the top of his head, admiring him lovingly. It was rare for Brendon to find comfort in anybody. His eyes softened as he realized they thought something of this, they all did, or at the very least believed in who he was despite their initial disbelief. “Is this new?”

“No.” He admitted, forcing a smile at her. She was just trying to be a good parent. He couldn’t blame her for asking questions. “No, I’ve liked him for a while. It’s just that nothing ever happened so I never mentioned it. There was no point. There’s still no point.”

“Well, things change, Bren. Keep an open mind.” She kissed the top of his head and he nodded, he’d try, before he escaped upstairs, on his way to bed for the night before Kara called him into her and Kyla’s room. He looked between their door and his own, and his body ached from a long day, and it was so tempting, but he pushed through the door anyway.

The two sat on the floor of the room with their box of nail polishes spilled out around them, smiling up at him until he took a hesitant seat. He was used to this by now, people prying, trying to get to know him better because he hated sharing. His siblings had inherited it from their parents, always trying to interfere where they didn’t belong. Something about them caring, they’d said, though Brendon really just had no idea.

“Hey, kid.” Kara greeted, patting his knee in a hello as he pushed a bottle of green polish with his foot and wondered how many of these colors had been on his nails at one point or another. “What’s going on?”

Uncomfortable already, he rested his hands in his lap. “Nothing.”

“No? Nothing at school?” She asked, and he knew what she was doing, knew how to read between the lines, but didn’t know why she bothered. “No boys?” She urged, and when Brendon looked away, she sighed. “C’mon, B. Talk to us. We haven’t talked in a while. I wanna know what’s going on in your life. We miss you.”

“I’ve been busy.” He shrugged and they frowned, resenting how avoidant he was sometimes as the black sheep of the family.

The girls exchanged looks but said nothing because with Brendon, it was easier not to. “Let me do your nails.” Kyla took his hand without his permission, but the rest of the blue nail polish he’d been wearing had chipped off, so he let her. Kara grabbed a bottle of black polish and handed it to her sister, never giving the boy a say though he trusted their taste. It was just a way to give him some freedom of expression, after all. He didn’t know how else to do it.

“So why did you lure me in here?” Brendon asked, watching her twist the bottle open and brush the excess polish away.

“We just wanna talk to you, little one,” Kara told him, feigning innocence, and he looked up from watching Kyla paint his pinky black, getting a little on his skin though he could peel that off later. “So, mama told us about the boy you like.”

“No, don’t do this.” He said, going to pull away before Kyla pulled him back. She told him to keep his hand still and Kara opened her mouth to speak, but Brendon added, “I hate when you guys talk about me, you know.”

“It’s not like we were talking shit, Brendon, we were discussing a matter that affects the whole family.” Kara reasoned and Brendon rolled his eyes, watching her start to paint her own nails red and avoiding her gaze as he eyed the brown polish by his socked foot, named $12 Latte. “Seriously, this is kind of a big deal. Your first crush.”

“Okay, I’m not ten. I’m sixteen. It’s not that big of a deal.” He reached out to organize the bottles around him by color and brand with his free hand. He had a little bit of an organization thing, he liked to compartmentalize things until they made more sense. Neurotic, maybe, but just as so. Things needed to be organized. He was just doing it for them. The doctor said it was some type of compulsion, but Brendon preferred to think of it as a quirk. A habit he never broke. “And besides, I’ve liked him since I was a freshman.”

“But it is a big deal!” She refuted, patting his thigh like he was coming out all over again, but he really didn’t think so. People liked people all the time. This wasn’t revolutionary to anybody except this family. “I mean, a few years ago you weren’t telling us anything, you wouldn’t talk to anybody besides Tyler, you wouldn’t even leave the house. Opening up like this is a really big step.”

“Okay, Kara.” Kyla intervened, but she was right. Brendon was a lot better off than he had been a couple of years ago. Because as he was turning twelve and getting over the fear he’d been harboring for years, he ran into a new set of problems, normal problems, pre-teen boy problems.

Because in middle school everyone around him was talking about the girls in their class, their crushes, asking Brendon who his was though he never had an answer. He was twelve years old, yelling at his parents for no reason, hating his body, blushing in the locker room when he saw a little too much. He was twelve years old, and he should have fallen in love with pretty much every girl he passed by. But, well, he thought boys were cuter. And that kind of clued him into thinking that there was something else to it.

As a baby he’d had a developmental delay, making it harder for him to learn basic tasks like walking or talking or reading, and pushing back his life track a bit as he needed a lot of extra help. He hit puberty late, pushing sixteen when it happened, and hid in his room for a week after because he swore life was so much easier when he was too scared to leave the house.

And to top it all off, amid the awkward voice cracks and hormonal breakdowns and the inappropriate hard ons in class, he came to the realization that he was gay.

He whispered it to his best friend on the way to school one morning in May, hushed and terrified because he didn’t know if he wanted it to be real. And it was, and for a while he questioned it, but he rehearsed it for weeks, only for it to be two words and a whole lot of waging wars until his parents assured him that it was fine. He had gotten used to hiding within his family, but he was sick of hiding. He was sick of being scared.

The thing was, knowing his sexuality so early meant that he had plenty of time to dwell on it. So he found himself dwelling on the gorgeous boy from high school orientation; he couldn’t help it. Two years later, after coming out and learning to deal with everybody’s problem with it, he was still finding ways to avoid talking about his feelings until his family found their own ways to get involved.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Sore subject.” Kara apologized, and Brendon shrugged as he went to blow on his nails when Kyla granted him a break. It wasn’t always a sore subject. It was just that he had his reasons not to talk about something so personal. He wasn’t used to it. “But you know what I mean, Bren, right? We thought you were gonna be miserable forever.”

“Who says I’m not miserable?”

“Stop.” She clicked her tongue, shoving his knee and smiling though he didn’t know how to say it. “I’m just proud of you, is all. Baby steps are better than no steps at all.”

“I guess you’re right.” He agreed, examining the shiny color on his nails and remembering how nice it felt when they were freshly painted. He’d gotten a few comments from people at school about looking like a girl, living out the stereotypes, and earned himself a few nicknames, but he didn’t care as much as he had in the past. A lot had changed over the course of a few years.

“Hey, why don’t you ask him out? This kid you like?” Kyla suggested, accepting his other hand when he offered it. “I mean, what have you got to lose?”

“Um, my dignity?” He shot back, and she looked at him, bored. “Look, he’s not the kind of guy I can just ask out. I mean, I couldn’t ask anyone out anyway. It wouldn’t end well. I’d have to like, change my name and flee the country. I don’t wanna have to do that. I like it here.”

“Brendon, no one is making you flee the country. You take these things way too seriously. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, because it’s not, but you’re not... out there. We’re worried about you not having anybody in your life aside from us and Tyler.”

“Well, it’s always been that way. It’s fine.” Brendon reasoned, and he couldn’t be bothered to try and see where she was coming from. He was fine with his life now. Why change it when change was so scary?

“That’s my point. It’s always been that way. What’s gonna happen when Tyler isn’t there?” Kara asked, and Brendon glanced up, suddenly anxious. He didn’t like to think about that. “I mean, college, and real life, and— look, I just don’t want you to end up alone. I want you to go be a teenager and kiss boys and go on adventures and make some friends and have fun. You deserve to have some fun after everything.”

“That’s not me, Kara.” He argued, and Kyla painted a clear top coat as the boy watched intently. He couldn’t even order food for himself without stuttering or feeling like he was gonna throw up. How was he supposed to do all that? “I don’t kiss boys and go on adventures. I appreciate the life advice, but I’m okay on my own. At least for now. I would rather die alone than die of embarrassment, right?”

“So, what if you ask him out and he says yes?”

“Well, I guess we’ll never know.” He shrugged while Kyla finished with the top coat, leaving his nails feeling wet and uncomfortable. He'd be embarrassed either way. He was him and Dallon was Dallon. It just wasn't that simple. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. But thanks.” He wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs and forced a smile. “I’m going to bed, unless you guys wanna harass me about my personal life some more?”

“Nope, we’re good for the night. Sweet dreams, little brother.” Kara nodded at him and Kyla said goodnight, so he smiled half-heartedly and slipped back into the hallway.

"Goin' to bed already?" His mom asked suddenly from behind him as she carried a full wicker laundry basket down the hall to her and his father's room, making him jump as he hadn’t seen her coming. He nodded and she frowned, an early night was unlikely for a teenage boy, but then again Brendon wasn't like the others. "It's a little early, kid, don't you think?"

He shrugged, and he guessed it was. "I wanna be up early tomorrow. Get the bathroom first."

She pat his cheek with a quiet sigh though she knew it wasn't worth the fight. "Alright, baby. See you tomorrow morning, then. Love you."

"Night." He forced a smile and accepted a kiss on the cheek, parting ways with her and closing his bedroom door behind him.

Music blasted from Matt and Mason’s room as the latter listened behind a closed door and Matt watched TV with his dad downstairs, yelling about sports together though Brendon couldn’t be bothered to listen. His family was never good at quiet, there being seven of them, and he blew on his nails aimlessly as he fell back on his bed, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think too hard about what Kara had said.

He wasn’t lonely. He was fine.

Brendon was never good at sleep. Maybe it was the loudness of his house, or his racing thoughts, or the fact that he was probably just an insomniac because he never seemed to sleep enough. But there was something about being up at night that he rather liked, when he could think without the world interrupting. Sometimes that was a good thing, but sometimes it wasn’t. Brendon didn’t mind that so much.

The wind was howling outside when he woke up early that morning to the sound of his alarm, his eyes burning with a lack of sleep as he sat up on his elbows. He got up to grab his clothes, making his way to the hallway, and darted toward the bathroom before Kyla could get to it as she emerged from her bedroom.

“Hey!” She grabbed at his shirt but he shoved her away, pressing his back against the bathroom door. “Bren, come on. You take hour long showers.”

“And you get it first every day.” He protested, opening the door behind him and almost falling back into the bathroom. “Come back later.” He closed the door behind him, making sure to lock it, and as he tugged his shirt off, he heard her try and get their mother involved though she liked to let the kids handle these things themselves.

He twisted the shower on, letting it warm up as he discarded his clothes into the hamper. He rarely showered in the mornings but it was early and he needed it, feeling disgusting after having tossed and turned all night and managing to get all sweaty in the process. He climbed in, the water hot against his skin, and managed to get his toothbrush under the water to multitask, having gotten used to five minute showers long ago.

He got dressed quickly after barely drying himself off, ignoring the knocking on the door because after sixteen years he’d learned selective hearing. His jeans stuck uncomfortably to his legs while he dried his hair off with his towel, muttering curse words under his breath. Sometimes he had no room to breathe.

“Bren, everyone out here is plotting your murder right now. You’ve been in there for a while. Let’s get a move on, okay?” His mom called, knocking on the door gently.

"And that's my problem because...?" Brendon called back, and he heard her sigh in exasperation. They really needed another bathroom. He would build it himself if he had the motivation and physical ability.

"Alright, well, you're not gonna get any food. Hurry up." She rushed him, but he tugged his shirt on and smoothed it down with a roll of his eyes as he pulled open the door, letting the leftover steam roll out into the hallway.

Mason and Kyla stood by in the hallway with death glares, watching the youngest head back toward his room at the end of the hall. “You guys need to stop standing by the bathroom door waiting for me. It’s creepy.”

“You need to stop reevaluating your entire life when you're showering. There are six other people in this house." Mason scolded when Kyla slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

Brendon shrugged half-heartedly, not really listening because he didn’t need to. "Whatever. You're old enough to move out. You choose to stick around."

"You're a brat." Mason called after him, but Brendon disappeared to his room. He wasn’t a brat. They were all just on top of each other all the time. He didn’t choose to be in such a big family in such a small house.

He grabbed a banana for breakfast instead of eating the pancakes his mother made so he didn’t have to listen to his siblings, always getting a little carried away when things got too stressful at home. They stuck to this notion that he was spoiled since he had always required a little extra attention when he was young, letting it go when they realized he had serious issues though sometimes they forgot that part. It was easy to forget things like that around here with so much going on.

“Are you sure you don’t want more? I can make you something else.” His mother watched him slip on his worn-out black converse with worry, always fretting over the smallest things.

“I’m okay, I’m not that hungry. Bye, mama.” He grabbed his bag and waved goodbye before he descended the spiral staircase down into the diner, awaiting its opening as he headed out.

“Do you need a ride?” His father asked, watching his youngest skip across the tiled floor.

“Nope, I’m fine. Have a good day.” He flipped the CLOSED sign around to say OPEN, looking over his shoulder to smile at his dad in thanks. He would have appreciated a ride, but mornings were busy and he wasn’t completely selfish. Besides, he liked the walk sometimes. “Bye.”

“See ya, kid. Have a good day.” His dad called as he pushed outside and hurried down the steps with a wave, sneakers hitting the pavement and rushing down the street so he wouldn’t be late.

He liked the morning walks to school. They gave him time to prepare for the day, for the dirty looks and snide comments from his peers because, well, some people just didn’t quite appreciate his existence. He didn’t appreciate theirs either. Brendon found that over the course of two years he’d developed a general dislike for the majority of the student body.

And then there were boys like Dallon Weekes. Boys he liked to look at, boys he liked to think about, boys he got paired with on projects when he wasn’t expecting it.

“Hey, what’s up, Ty?” Brendon greeted as Tyler approached him with a slap on the ass, smiling a little too much for the morning as they headed toward the front door together.

“The sun, the stock markets, my adoration for cute boys, among many other things.” He hummed, and Brendon quirked an eyebrow. “I just talked to Josh.”

“Ah, Joshie.” Brendon nodded, following him up the front steps and casting a glance out toward Josh’s car before the three boys disappeared from sight. “Hey, the stock markets are up?”

"Yeah, don't you watch the news?"

Brendon shook his head, tightening his grip on the strap of his bag out of instinct. "My parents don't like it when I do. They think it's not good for me to see stuff that could potentially be a trigger. What about Josh?"

"Oh. I get that." Tyler bumped into him gently, a conversation they hadn't had in months. "And nothing, I was just asking him about physics homework, but it's just that he's so pretty. He just stands in front of his car and acts so fucking cool with his stupid ripped jeans and snapbacks and all that. I hate it."

"You hate it cause you're attracted to it." Brendon pointed out, watching his feet and trying to smile. “And you could have asked me about the homework.”

"Exactly!" Tyler exclaimed, throwing his hands up and earning an entertained laugh from his friend. "And yes, I could have, but you’re not him.” He made a good point. “God, him and his pink hair. Why am I attracted to pink hair? What the hell is wrong is with me, Bren? I need fucking help."

"Yeah, well, we all have our thing." Brendon shrugged, and his smile had somehow faded into a timid gaze down at his black converse beside Tyler's floral vans.

"It's fucking ridiculous, Bren. I am, by far, the most confident person I know, and I cannot bring myself to speak to him outside of talking about school. Why can't I speak to him?"

"Cause you're in love," Brendon cooed mockingly, and Tyler's elbow got him in the side.

"Says you," Tyler huffed, and Brendon tried to elbow him back but barely got him before he moved away. "And... you know who he was with?"

Brendon sighed, of course he knew. He had been avoiding the parking lot all year and before Josh got a car, the table outside where they sat, too scared to try and cross bridges because he wasn’t so good at that. “Yeah, I know.”

“So?” Tyler bumped his hip against Brendon’s, and he looked away with a frown. “You’ve been pining over this guy for like, two years, B. And it's not like he's a stranger, right? You've talked to him before. Back before this year."

“Yeah. Well, no. Not friends. Acquaintances. I’ve always been on his side. He’s always been on mine. It just never went anywhere further than that.”

"Then you should let it." He urged, and Brendon looked up at him silently, calculating. "Look. I know I’ve told you to go for it a million times, you have nothing to lose, but I’ve noticed lately that you’ve been, like, more secluded. I don’t know if it’s school, being around people, or something else, but I feel like maybe it would be good for you if you-“

“No.” Brendon moved away, suddenly overwhelmed, and Tyler looked affronted. “Look, I appreciate you trying to help, but for the past nineteen hours everyone has been up my ass about this and I don’t want it. Just... no. I’m going to class. I’ll see you later.”

“We’re not done with this, little Urie.” Tyler called after him as Brendon escaped down the hall, rushing his steps and waving a hand over his shoulder. He’d heard enough about this. About how he was troubled and lonely and needed to expand his horizons.

He ducked into his history classroom and headed toward his assigned seat in the back, dropping his bag and slipping into his chair. People cared about him. He couldn’t blame them for that. He just wished they would leave him out of it.

He scrolled aimlessly through his phone, waiting patiently for his peers to fill up the vacant seats. A few people trickled in, still early, but he caught a few familiar voices and he stopped, staring at his thumb and focusing too hard.

"Seriously, it's a terrible idea." Ryan's voice said suddenly, crossing the threshold of the classroom.

"No it's not!" Dallon laughed in response, and Brendon felt bad for eavesdropping, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to do it. "No it's not. I'm very responsible. I know what I'm talking about."

"No you don't." Ryan snorted, and Brendon glanced up just in time to see Dallon shove him playfully before he went to take his own assigned seat in front of Brendon, where the boy let his eyes wander every now and then, watching him stretch or doodle in his notebook or run his fingers absentmindedly through his hair.

Brendon sighed, ducking his head into his hand, and peeked up to see how a gray sweatshirt clung to Dallon’s back before their teacher stepped into the classroom. Ashley claimed her seat beside him and they exchanged hellos, too tired for conversation. She pulled out her notebook, decorated with her name and a red highlighted illustration of a rose, and Brendon watched her sketch another leaf until Ms. Brown clapped her hands to snap the class out of their mindless chatter.

“Okay, guys, I have a fun surprise.” She announced, so everyone directed their attention toward her. “Your first project of the year! You’ll be working in partners, and I’ve already chosen them, so no, you cannot pick.” Everyone groaned, and she added, “I know, I know, I get it. But it’s simple. You'll be doing a powerpoint on a subject of your choice, anything as long as it's something we've learned in this class in the past month and a half. Partners are on the board. Sit together and introduce yourselves if you don’t know each other."

Suddenly anxious, Brendon watched his teacher click on the smartboard and waited for the screen to load. And he didn’t know if he had really good luck or really bad luck, but there on the board was Brendon U typed beside Dallon W, and he blinked as if it would disappear as everyone got up to sit with their partners. But it didn’t, and it wouldn’t, and he felt dizzy all of a sudden. He had been avoiding talking to Dallon for a reason.

Dallon turned around in his seat, smiling when he met Brendon’s eyes, and Brendon’s pulse picked up as he forced a smile back. Ashley got up to sit with her partner so Dallon got up too, exchanging cordial nods with her as he claimed her seat beside Brendon. Brendon sat perfectly still, legs pressed hard together so he wouldn’t accidentally touch Dallon, sitting on his hands, but Dallon leaned back in the chair and kicked his legs out, making himself comfortable. “Hey, Urie.”

“Hey.” Brendon said dumbly, and Ms. Brown quieted everybody down again, cutting off what would inevitably be an embarrassing attempt at a conversation, as she began to explain the assignment.

When the bell rang, he shot up and grabbed his bag from the floor, darting toward the door to get the hell out before Dallon tried to talk to him or he threw up or both, with his luck. He slipped out the door and only stopped short when somebody grabbed his upper arm, overstepping bounds but not unfavorably so. He tensed up and turned around, and Dallon smiled down at him, letting his hand linger.

“Hi. Sorry to interrupt your marathon running or whatever, but we should probably plan a place to meet to work on this project." He followed Brendon out of the room, finally letting go of his arm as Brendon slowed his pace and watched their feet walk alongside each other. “You know, I can’t afford to fail, so...”

“Right, yeah, of course.” He replied quickly, nodding too much as Dallon presumably invited himself on Brendon’s walk to his next class. "Um, I'm working tomorrow after school, but I'll be off at four and you can just meet me there. Y'know, at the diner. If it's not too much trouble."

"I can do that," Dallon nodded, and Brendon nodded awkwardly back at him while they turned down another hallway, ready to throw himself down a flight of stairs. With a humorous huff, Dallon asked suddenly, "you're only working an hour?"

Brendon smiled down at his sneakers and then up at Dallon, and maybe throwing himself down the stairs could wait. ”An hour and a half. My parents don't make me work long on weekdays. You know, homework, school, all that."

"I get it." He elbowed him, and Brendon was kind of surprised that he didn't stutter once. "I'll see you, Urie."

"Sure. Bye." Brendon nodded at him before he ducked into another classroom, flashing a smile as he disappeared. His heart was pounding, he hadn’t talked to Dallon in months, and he didn’t know how he was gonna do this. He-

“Did I just see you talking to Dallon Weekes?” Tyler asked suddenly, coming out of nowhere and making him jump. “Was that Brendon Urie, taking my advice? This never happens.”

“Calm down, I wasn’t taking your advice. That still isn’t a thing that I do.” Brendon linked their arms together, heading toward their physics classroom down the hall. “We have to work on a project together, it’s just this week, we’re meeting at the diner tomorrow after my shift to work on it. It’s not a big deal.”

“This is so a big deal.” Tyler refuted, and maybe it was, he never had a real chance to talk to him but maybe this was it. Maybe this was just giving him an excuse to be more than acquaintances. “Okay. I can tell you’re screaming on the inside. It’s okay! I’ll come over today and we’ll prep you for your big date.”

“It’s not a date.” He argued, but laughed at his enthusiasm all the same.

“It is! It totally is!” Tyler laughed too, shaking Brendon’s arm like a giddy child. “I’m so excited!”

“What are we excited for?” A voice asked suddenly, and Brendon turned to see Josh on his other side, smiling at them like he was eavesdropping the whole time though Brendon knew better. “Hi, Tyler.”

“Hi!” Tyler grinned cheekily, the smile he saved for cute boys, Brendon knew, as he’d never gotten that smile.

“Hi, Brendon.” Josh added, and Brendon nodded a hello, aware that he was only there for Tyler; the two had a way of flirting circles around each other. “You know, you guys always look like you’re conducting some evil plan.” Tyler laughed, and Brendon smiled. “Seriously, you do! It’s so funny. You’re always whispering in the halls and ending conversations when people interrupt you. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of you murders me in my sleep, you know. Or worse.”

“Get on my bad side and I just might.” Tyler hummed, and Josh smiled back at him fondly as they headed into their classroom. Brendon smirked to himself, Tyler never gave himself enough credit, as he slid into his assigned seat and said good morning to Melanie, the girl who sat beside him every day.

“Brendon. Hi. Can you check my homework? I don’t think I did it right.” She opened her notebook and he nodded, getting out his own.

“Sure, but I’m warning you, I probably got it all wrong. I can’t really figure any of this out.” He handed his notebook to her and accepted hers, leaning forward in his seat and trying to will his blush away.

Dallon was just a boy who wanted a good grade on a project. He wasn’t anything to Brendon. Just an acquaintance. A peer. He had come to terms with that a long time ago.

Tyler slammed Brendon’s bedroom door behind them that afternoon and Brendon fell back on his bed, rolling his eyes but deciding to humor him. “Okay!” Tyler announced promptly, giving the room a once-over. He picked a pillow up off the floor after it had fallen off his bed during the night prior, whipping it at Brendon and making him sit up on his elbows with a scoff. “First of all, you need to clean this goddamn room, Brendon, if you bring him up here then he’s not gonna wanna have sex with you! For someone so OCD you have the messiest room in the fucking world.”

"We're not gonna have sex, Tyler!" He hit him back, and Tyler grabbed the pillow from him with a roll of his eyes. "We're gonna do our history project and exchange casual conversation about school only. Maybe the weather, if I'm feeling frisky."

"And what if he's like, Brendon, you're so sexy and smart and you know how to use Google Slides, let's go have sex in your perfectly clean room!"

"Shut up. Dallon doesn't sound like that." Brendon extended his leg to kick him, and Tyler backed away with a laugh. "Alright, alright. How about you do the cleaning, I'll do the sitting and watching."

Tyler popped a hip out. "First of all, you're annoying."

"Says you."

"Fuck off." He pointed at Brendon with that I know best look on his face, a look Brendon never really agreed with but had gotten used to and learned to ignore. "Now, come on, little Urie. Do you want Dallon Weekes inside of you, or what? I mean, you look like you'd take it up the ass."

"Stop." Brendon grabbed another pillow from the head of his bed to hit him with it, and Tyler ignored him as he went to pick a shirt up off the floor. "I'd like to be friends with him. And I don't want anything up my ass. Not, like... not yet, anyway." When Tyler's eyes widened, Brendon put a hand out and added, "I mean, no. Nothing. Not at all."

"Alright, we'll work on that." Tyler sat down in Brendon's desk chair and kicked his feet up with a shrug after he set the shirt down on the desk, leaving it folded half-heartedly. "But first, let's work on your flirting.”

“No. We're not doing this.” Brendon argued, and he swore he had more dignity than to practice his flirting with his best friend in his room like an idiot. “This is stupid. I'm not gonna flirt with him because nothing will ever happen between us."

"I bet all the most famous couples got together by being partners on a history project." Tyler ignored him, and Brendon wasn’t even really sure why he bothered anymore. "I say you sit next to him when you meet, and you brush his hand a few times, bat your eyelashes, and you've got him on a short leash."

Brendon folded his arms over his chest, and Tyler smiled cheekily, knowing how he got to Brendon sometimes and taking pride in it. "I'm not a girl, Ty."

"That's sexist."

"Okay, whatever. I just wanna get this stupid project done! We're not going to be having sex, and he's not gonna fall in love with me, it's just school. It's nothing more." Brendon argued while Tyler picked up a few more things from the floor in front of him, piling them on top of his desk. It was kind of like having a maid sometimes, except that the maid was too invested in his life.

Tyler looked up at him with a few shirts in hand and sat back down at the desk chair, pouting dissentingly. He and Brendon never seemed to be on the same page. "You need to have more confidence."

"No, Tyler, that's not how this friendship works. You're the confident one. I'm not. If we're both confident, then there won't be a perfect balance between confidence and self-consciousness. It just won't be right." He retorted with a few explanatory waving hand gestures while Tyler started to fold the clothes.

"Brendon, you will never fall in love and get married at this rate. Don't do this to yourself." When he earned a disbelieving look from Brendon, he sighed and leaned forward in the desk chair to stare at him intimidatingly in that way that Brendon hated. "Seriously. I meant what I said today. You need to get out there. Let yourself live a little."

"Alright, I don't need life advice.” He denied, and Tyler gave him a look like he didn’t quite believe that. “You're my best friend, not my therapist."

"Basically the same thing." Tyler pointed out with a roll of his eyes, and Brendon didn’t bother arguing because if he refused to go back to therapy then this was the best he could do. "But fine, whatever. What would you rather do, then?"

"Uh, I'd like to study for the astronomy test I have next week." Brendon reached down to pull his astronomy textbook out from under his bed, where he kept all the textbooks he didn't bring to school.

Tyler watched him with a frown. "Maybe you should ask Dallon out." He suggested, joining Brendon on his bed while he flipped open the textbook.

"Maybe I should study so I don't fail and have to work at my parent's diner for the rest of my life." He rejoined, thumbing through the pages to find the correct one as he avoided Tyler’s eyes. Page forty-two.

“But think about it," Tyler exclaimed, and Brendon let out a sigh but looked up just to humor him. "Say you start dating him, and he proposes, and you get married and have babies and then you can thank me." Brendon gave him a skeptical look, and he added, "Brendon, come on." He gestured to the textbook with a half smile. "Shoot for the stars."

Brendon rolled his eyes and picked up the book to pretend to hit him with it as he moved away, rolling over to lay on his stomach with a laugh at his own pun. "You're so lame. I'm gonna puke on you. Seriously. We don’t talk anymore."

Tyler sighed, punching Brendon in the thigh before he picked up a pencil and pretended to stab him with it. "Okay, okay, let's study then, fucking nerd. Operation get Dallon to love you will be established later."


	3. Chapter 2: Stepping in Puddles on Cemented Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine that the texts are italicized because I simply cannot do it

Brendon was serving a table of four kids that he knew from school when the glass door of the diner opened and the little bell above the door chimed. He looked up to greet the customer but Dallon smiled back at him, looking a little less tired and more cleaned up than he had at school that day. Brendon knew they had plans to work on the project but it had slipped his mind, and now, well, he was wearing an apron and Dallon looked like... that.

Brendon smiled back, speechless for a second because he'd only ever seen Dallon step into the diner once and it was just as surreal as the first. Dallon nodded his head in acknowledgment and Brendon nodded back. "Hi."

"Hey." Brendon started toward him after he told the kids at the table to enjoy. "Um, let me tell my mom I'm clocking out and I'll be there in a sec. You can just sit anywhere, if you want. Up to you." He lost his gaze and instead focused on his shoes as he slipped behind the counter.

"Alright, sweet." He turned to claim the left corner booth and Brendon watched, fumbling with the tie on his apron. Sliding into the seat closest to the wall he unzipped his bag, and if he was the slightest bit cognizant to the way Brendon couldn't seem to function around him, he didn't bother mentioning it, but still Brendon wondered.

His mom nudged him when he set his apron down on the back counter. "Hot date?"

He snorted and pulled his laptop out from where he'd stashed it under the counter before his shift started, covering it with some menus and a towel to be safe. "Stop, we're working on a project together. My shift is over."

"Alright, alright, go ahead." She hit him with a rag. "But you're working overtime Saturday."

"Why don't you love me?" He feigned tears and she rolled her eyes, heading into the kitchen and shaking her head in good nature. He hesitated before he slid in across from Dallon, his laptop already open in front of him, as he watched him scribble something down on a sheet of paper.

Dallon half smiled in acknowledgment, not having seen him coming. “Hey.” He greeted, pulling his hat off and dragging a hand aimlessly through his hair. "It's a nice place. The diner, I mean."

Brendon smiled; he'd helped decorate as a child when his father took over the diner, with vintage signs from a thrift store in the Historic District and light blue paint. "Thank you. I kinda like it too." He looked away before Dallon could hold his gaze. "So, what are you thinking? For the project, I mean. Like. The topic."

"Well, she gave us a list of subjects that we've learned so far, I guess you can choose whichever one you were best at." He slid the paper that their teacher had handed out to Brendon so he accepted it, reading the list silently and barely recalling any of the topics because, well, he had a distraction in that class. Dallon had already written their names and the date at the top of the paper in a neat scrawl, unlike Brendon's messy half caps scribbles, and he spelled it right, no one ever spelled Brendon's name right, and Brendon pushed it back to him, suddenly too hot.

"I'm fine with whatever. You can, um. You can choose what you were best at. Or whatever."

"Um, I was good at all of them, I guess."

Brendon cocked an eyebrow and pulled his laptop open, a shield to protect him from Dallon or maybe himself. "Straight A student?"

Dallon let out a quiet laugh and shrugged modestly, looking away and down at the table like he was shocked he assumed so. Brendon wondered if Dallon got enough attention, if his parents praised him for his success, who they were, who he was, and he was getting nosy again. He promised himself he wouldn't. "Yeah, I guess. I don't know. A's and B's. I just do my homework and pay attention and I get good grades."

"Me too," Brendon peeped, too quiet though Dallon looked up anyway. When they made eye contact again, he added, "you choose."

"Religion," Dallon decided, and when Brendon raised an eyebrow he smiled, explained, "it's an interesting and well-rounded topic. It's universal. Everybody sees it differently and everybody has opinions and something to say, right? I mean, there are so many different religions and most people believe in them. Some people don’t. And people show their devotion in so many different ways, and there are different levels of belief, but there's also that sense of unknowingness, and it's interesting, to know that there's something that everyone knows, but no one knows.”

Brendon tilted his head while Dallon watched him, smiling this smile that wasn’t a smile. Dallon had a different way of thinking, almost... convoluted. Assigning meaning to things that had none otherwise, Brendon would come to realize that in time. "Okay," Brendon said, at a loss for words.

"Okay," Dallon repeated, moving his hands over to type something into his laptop with finality.

Brendon sighed to himself and tapped his pen against the tabletop while Dallon jotted something down neatly on the notebook paper he'd pulled out of his binder. "It's only October and I feel like it's April or something." He mumbled more to himself than anything, but Dallon looked up at him again. "Don't you? I mean, like, it's endless, school and class and projects and homework. Feels like I’ve been doing it for months already."

"Yeah. You’re so right. I feel like yesterday I was a freshman and my mom was sending me off to high school telling me that it would be okay and that the next four years would be the quickest and best years of my life, but the moment I saw that school it freaked me out. And I’m not one to get intimidated. I remember freshman orientation, my best friend and I stood in the bathroom and talked about how scared we were when they were finished giving us a tour. I had come from a really small middle school so it was a big change. And we looked at ourselves in the mirror and made fun of ourselves because we didn't look ready for high school. We still looked prepubescent. I was a little shorter back then.”

“I was under five feet when I was a freshman. True story.”

“I didn’t know you could possibly get shorter. Sorry.” Dallon laughed, and Brendon smiled fondly, swatting at him playfully and not expecting the banter.

“I’m five-three!” He argued, laughing back, and Dallon looked away but was smiling when Brendon caught it.

“My point exactly.” He brushed a hand through his hair. It made Dallon seem more human, in a way, when Brendon had felt before as if he were untouchable. But there he was, sitting with Dallon Weekes, actually talking to him. He had feelings, and a best friend, and a past, and he was real. After years of watching from afar and longing to know him, Brendon couldn't believe that some strange twist of fate brought them together.

"You didn't go to middle school here. I would have seen you." Brendon added, and Dallon raised an eyebrow as he glanced up again. "We only have one middle school in BC. I remember Ryan, he was in the other homeroom all three years, but I don't remember you. And you didn't go to my elementary either."

"You're observant," Dallon said, though Brendon was unsure of whether that was a good thing or not. “No, um, I went to Mitchell for elementary school. In middle school I went to this private school in Henderson. Don’t laugh at me.” He demanded, but Brendon couldn’t help it. It was hard to imagine Dallon as a private school boy. “Don’t laugh! My parents wanted me to have that private school education. It’s where I met Josh. And I lived in Henderson for a while before my family moved to BC. I came to high school here, and I got to be with both of my friends, and, y’know. The rest is history.”

"Oh." Brendon looked back down at his folder and picked awkwardly at the corner of it. "I saw you that day, freshman orientation." He added and Dallon looked up again, over his laptop, perhaps his own shield though Brendon didn't know what from. "And you told the guidance counselor that you didn't wanna share anything about your life with a bunch of strangers.”

Dallon laughed again and looked away, trying to hide his smile though Brendon didn’t see why. He admired the way he laughed, like he had a reason to. Like he had something to smile about. "Yeah." He said, remembering so clearly the way he used to be.

"What was that about, anyway?" He asked, hoping he wasn’t overstepping.

"Um." He dragged his finger around the trackpad of his laptop lazily. "People always pretend to know you when they know something about you. I don't believe in that. If you're gonna say you know someone, you have to actually know them."

Brendon nodded thoughtfully, liked Dallon's cognizance, but didn’t always understand it. How complicated he seemed but how well he hid it. How Brendon tried to see through it, regardless. "Elaborate."

"Well, you know me, right?" Dallon looked up again from his laptop and Brendon nodded slowly in response, curious. "Wrong. You know of me. You know my name, and you know that we're in a few of the same classes. But you don't know anything about me. People always assume things about me. They do the same to you. I don’t believe in pretending you know things you don’t.”

Brendon furrowed his eyebrows, and Dallon opened his laptop again and began typing something from a sheet of paper in front of him onto the powerpoint like he hadn't just left Brendon feeling more idiotic than he usually was. Like he hadn’t just proved he knew more than he let on. “Oh,” Brendon said dumbly, not knowing what to say.

Dallon nodded and Brendon said nothing else, just found the note sheet he was looking for because he didn't quite get it. He didn’t get a lot of things. He handed it to Dallon, nodded when he thanked him, watched him begin to type notes into the powerpoint. It would probably be best to get some work done. Brendon watched his fingers glide across the keyboard quickly for a moment before he let his gaze flicker upward to watch Dallon's bright blue eyes scanning the screen.

Dallon was gorgeous. It was no secret; Brendon had thought it since the moment he met him. He was about five-ten so well over half a foot taller than a tiny Brendon, but he wasn't all that lanky. Maybe a little, still awkwardly tall compared to his peers, but not all skin and bones. Soft. With prominent hips and dainty, feminine features, big eyes and lips that seemed warm even though they were hardly ever a smile. He was gorgeous, and something told Brendon he didn't know it.

"You know, we always seem to be crossing paths," Dallon said all of a sudden, not bothering to look up from his work.

Brendon looked up at him, surprised he’d mention the past. "What do you mean?"

Dallon smiled, tapping his nail against the keyboard aimlessly, and Brendon watched him, up to his eyes when Dallon’s found his first. "I feel like over the past two years I've talked to you more than I've talked to my friends. In the halls and stuff.”

Brendon laughed quietly; he remembered. Crashing into each other quite literally and always seeming to be colliding. "When you're bumping into me and making me drop everything I own in front of everyone. I remember."

Dallon rolled his eyes but grinned, nodding in agreement as he looked down, at his laptop screen and his keyboard and his hands like he was trying to see it, himself so many months ago when he seemed so much different than he was. "Mhm. And at the nurse's office and in the bathroom and stuff."

"Crying in the bathroom." Brendon corrected; Dallon glanced up at him again, not having forgotten though it was bold to bring it up.

"I always did think we were kindred souls, or something," Dallon said, and Brendon smiled back, not knowing what to say because he had thought the same, once upon a time. When Dallon had so much to say about his friends and Brendon just hated the world, and they cried to each other and never spoke of it again before now, instead exchanging smiles in the hallway like they knew something the rest of the world didn't. They didn't have to talk about it to know. When no one else was there, it seemed the other always was. That was back when they hardly knew each other. And they still didn't now, but it felt different. More final.

They spent the next hour collecting information and decorating the powerpoint on their separate laptops, exchanging comments about the project and causeries as Brendon returned to his awkward, stuttering genesis. Dallon wasn't one for small talk but Brendon was fine with that, never really liked the torture of small talk either, but he was good company nonetheless.

Brendon was watching Dallon's hands move and thinking aimlessly when Dallon's phone buzzed loudly against the table, making him jump and Dallon look up as neither had been expecting it. Brendon blushed, Dallon had definitely seen him jolt with fear, but Dallon said nothing, just smiled to himself and brushed hair from his forehead as he peeked at the screen. Brendon watched with curious eyes over his computer.

"Oh," Dallon looked up apologetically, "my mom needs me for something."

"Oh." Brendon watched Dallon shut his laptop and slide it into his backpack before he began gathering his papers neatly, disappointed. He had been enjoying spending time with him. They weren’t friends, they were still acquaintances, but this was crossing a new line that he’d never thought they'd even get to.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. Give me your number, I'll text you tonight and we can plan something out, yeah? We got a lot done, so it probably won't be too long." He tapped the screen a few times and handed his phone to Brendon, who quickly typed in his name and cell phone number and then gave the boy back his device, a little surprised he’d even asked.

Dallon thanked him and pocketed his phone as he pushed the rest of his things into his backpack. As he slung his bag over his shoulder, Brendon sat up straight and said, "I'll, um. I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah." Dallon nodded reassuringly, apologetic as he had to go. "See you, Urie."

"Yeah," Brendon answered dumbly before he added a quick, "bye."

Dallon chuckled at the flustered boy and started toward the exit. He had to know. How obvious was Brendon being? "Bye."

Brendon nodded slowly while Dallon pushed through the glass door, turning to smile at him over his shoulder. And as soon as Dallon had crossed the street, Brendon watched him until he disappeared, Mason slid in where Dallon had been sitting and startled Brendon when he turned back to catch him. "That's the boy?" He asked nosily, placing a mug of coffee in front of his younger brother. Brendon looked up and cupped the mug, pulling it close when he realized that it was for him. A peace offering.

"I'd make a comment about how nosy you are, but I have no energy left so yes, and thank you." He took a sip, the liquid warm on his tongue.

"You look like you get along well."

"I guess." Brendon looked down at the table, away from his eyes. He hated talking to people about anything that extended past work or school or the weather; suddenly he needed to get out of there. "I'm gonna go upstairs."

"Brendon, you're gonna have to let us in sooner or later." He called as Brendon got up, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and started toward the back with his laptop under his arm. He waved a hand at his brother, the mug of coffee now a distant memory.

"Not today." He called, and his brother sighed as he headed up the spiral staircase but he paid no mind, wouldn't let himself change because they all expected him to.

He knew his family had good intentions, trying to help him into a good place after years of not feeling safe. He only had Tyler, he'd only ever had Tyler, and after it had taken him years to learn to trust his own family, they were trying to give him a reason to. And especially after he had come out, well. They wanted to prove they were okay with who he was, make him feel better about it, help him feel safe. He appreciated that they valued his comfort but talking about his love life— or lack thereof— he wasn't comfortable with yet.

As he climbed the staircase his phone buzzed in his bag and he turned to dig it out, finding it in the smaller pocket in his bag. He prayed it was Dallon but it wasn’t, just Tyler, though he answered nonetheless as he kicked the door shut behind him. "Hi hoe!" Tyler greeted, and Brendon toed his shoes off in the front room, pushing them to the side so that no one would trip over them.

"What's up, Ty?"

"Just checking in. How was your date?"

"Tyler, it wasn’t a date. We literally sat at a booth at the diner and worked for an hour. We didn't do anything. It was just working on the project." Brendon pushed through his bedroom door and closed it behind him, trying to breathe deep after having run up two flights of stairs on a body built from anything but muscle.

He'd left his window open the previous night, leaving his room a bit too cold and urging a shiver to run down his spine as he walked over to pull it shut. "That's what they all say. How was the sex?"

He put his laptop on the floor. "Tyler!"

"Brendon!" He mimicked.

"We didn't have sex. We had stimulating conversation, and we did some research, and then he left." Brendon laid down on his bed and looked up at the ceiling, a habit as he never had much else to do. He was able to make out different shapes in the squiggle pattern, though all of them had been exhausted by his eyes.

Tyler hummed in consideration. "I prefer my version more."

Brendon sighed, arching his back in a stretch. "Yeah, well, I would too, but unfortunately it's not likely."

"Boo. But at least you admit it."

"Admit what?" He spotted the shape of the dinosaur holding a cake in the ceiling and smiled to himself; when all else failed, at least he had the animals in his ceiling.

"That you wanna have sex with him!" Tyler rejoined loudly, and Brendon sighed in exasperation. He cared too much, and maybe Brendon just cared too little. Or maybe he was too tired to care; he didn't know. His mind was too fixated on the dinosaur holding a cake to think about it. "So, can I have the details?"

He scrunched up his nose. Maybe they had cake mix in the pantry downstairs. "Uh, no."

"Why not?" He whined petulantly and Brendon rolled his eyes, he could be such a child sometimes.

"We chose our topic, we talked about said topic, and that's it." He sat up, suddenly realizing that maybe it wasn’t just that. Infatuation. Maybe it was more. "But he's so mysterious, Ty, it's like, he doesn't tell anyone anything about him unless you really know him. He made this big deal out of knowing someone versus knowing about them, and from anyone else that would just be weird but with him it's different. It's like, every time a word came out of his mouth I wanted to hear more."

"That would totally annoy me." Tyler mused. "God, Brendon, you're in so deep."

"I know! But he was really nice to me, so maybe he does like me?" He figured, and knowing that Tyler would twist his words and use them to manipulate, added, "And by like me, I mean wants to be my friend."

"Boyfriend." Tyler corrected.

"No, I mean friend. Trust me. I'm out of his league. Like, you should see him up close. He’s even prettier than I thought. And I don't even know if he likes guys." He glanced at the wall to the side, out the window where the sun was setting and the sky was turning purple. He looked back up at the ceiling, and he hoped that Dallon would get home okay, wherever he lived. Brendon realized he’d never asked.

"He wears cardigans, Brendon. He has a nose ring. Besides, I've heard through the grapevine that he likes guys."

Brendon shifted to sit up on his elbows. "Wait, what? What is the grapevine?"

He hesitated a second. "Josh."

Brendon scoffed. "You talked to Josh about Dallon's sexual preferences?"

Tyler scoffed right back mockingly, and Brendon frowned, affronted. "No, we talked about life and his friends and he happened upon the fact that his best friend is gay and he's bi, which we already know.”

Brendon hummed in thought and Tyler waited patiently, knowing he got him. But that couldn't be true. That was too real. He chewed on his thumbnail and quipped, "I mean, he could have meant Ryan. He looks a little-"

"Ryan has a girlfriend, Bren." He interrupted, and Brendon bit down on his nail a little too hard.

Something unidentifiable settled in his stomach. It couldn't be. Nothing ever happened like that. Inexplicably anxious, Brendon shook his head aimlessly. "Okay, whatever, we shouldn't be speculating Dallon's sexuality, it's not right. I just started talking to him. I don’t even know his middle name. I have to go, I'm gonna try to get some homework done before I go to bed. I might look for some cake too."

"You won't go to bed." Tyler told him knowingly, always a few steps ahead of him. “Choose the cake.”

"I know, but I should try, at least. And I might just do that. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye, buddy. I hope you find some cake." Tyler hummed before the call disconnected and Brendon was left with the silence of his lonely dark gray room.

Neglecting the new information, he got up, finding his homework in his bag and deciding that searching for cake could wait. He flipped his phone over, he would get distracted and half-ass the work and then be the family disappointment if he didn't, and clicked his pen a few times as he started scribbling annotations on the first of half a dozen articles.

The only time Brendon looked up from his writing was when his phone buzzed, as he was in the middle of marking up his third article. He would have thought it was Tyler bugging him to keep him company but when a couple of minutes passed and there was no follow-up text, he reached out to turn the phone over to see what it was. The screen was lit up with the time, eight forty-three, and a text message from an unknown number. Curiously, with his heart beating loud, he unlocked his phone and opened up the new conversation.

Unknown number: Hey, it's Dallon

He could feel his face heat up and his heart try to break free from the cage of ribs it was trapped in just at the mere sight of his name. His fingers were shaking as he added Dallon as a contact and then typed out a reply, contemplating using proper capitalization. Dallon seemed like the type. He probably shouldn't introduce himself, right? Was using punctuation still lame? He didn't text.

Brendon: Hey

He thought his heart was going to explode while he waited for a response, tapping his thumbnail against the side of his phone, on the verge of cardiac arrest when he saw the little bubble. He answered fast. Maybe he really wanted to talk to him. Or maybe he was a fast typer. Or maybe-

Dallon: so I figured we could meet at the diner again tomorrow. that is, if you're not working and it's easy enough for you to get there

Brendon beamed to himself before he tapped his fingers against the screen quickly, not wanting to leave him waiting. It would make him seem uninterested, right? That was something Tyler should have taught him.

Brendon: if it's not hard for u to get there, I live above the diner

Brendon: and I'm not working

Dallon: that's stupid of me, I noticed the house above the diner. I swear I'm not always that dumb

Brendon laughed and pushed his packet aside to give him room to sprawl out on his bed.

Dallon: and it's not hard at all, I know the city pretty well I can get around

Brendon: well good then we can meet at the diner same time tomorrow

Dallon: if you walk home from school then we could just go together right after. unless you're busy, then I can just meet you whenever

Brendon's heart fluttered. Dallon wanted to walk home with him. He wanted to walk him home. That counted for something. It had to.

Brendon: yeah I usually walk home we can just do that

Dallon: ok cool

Dallon: whatcha doin now

Brendon rolled over onto his back and tried not to squeal like a little kid up at the dinosaur on the ceiling, holding out that cake just for him.

Brendon: murphy's essay :(

Dallon: oh I finished that last night it was kinda easy

Dallon: that sounded really pretentious I'm not a dick I just love english

Dallon: that sounded even worse

Brendon: how do u love english

Dallon: idk I really like the idea that we can learn so much through creativity and how in writing everything is from an individual perspective. like the words writing reading it's all kind of my thing

Dallon: which ALSO sounds really pretentious but I swear I'm not

Brendon: hmmm that's what they all say...

Dallon: look I have like two friends I need to spend my time doing something else

Dallon: but other than that writing is a good way to get out all your pent up thoughts out, it sucks when it's forced but writing for fun is so much easier than it seems. so is creativity when you need an outlet. essays aren't my favorite but it could be worse, it could be an on demand

Brendon: that's true I'd rather do it all the night before than have fifty minutes in class to do it

Dallon: you get it!

He texted back and forth with Dallon for hours, his articles set aside for later; this was more important. Half past eleven he could hardly keep his eyes open and he told Dallon he had to get to bed, and Dallon admitted he’d been falling asleep for half an hour but didn’t want to stop talking to him. Brendon smiled so much his face hurt, and they said goodnight as he crawled into bed and put away an unfinished essay.

But before he could drift off, he reached out to grab his phone from his side table and opened up his contacts, staring at the new number he'd spent the night familiarizing himself with. He had Dallon Weekes' real, actual phone number.

* * *

Brendon woke up the next morning refreshed, that hardly ever happened, and got up quick to get the bathroom first. He smiled to himself in the mirror, giving himself a high five just for fun, and got ready in record speed before trotting downstairs to meet his mother for breakfast. Kyla and Matt were sitting at the table while their mom made pancakes and hummed quietly to herself, only looking up when she heard him make his way into the kitchen.

"Morning." Brendon slid into one of the seats and grabbed a plate from the center of the table.

"You seem very cheerful today." She observed thoughtfully.

"Well rested." Brendon corrected.

"Good. You need more sleep, keiki."

"I know, mama." He stuck his fork into a pancake, had heard the lecture more than he'd cared to. "So, um, Dallon is coming over after school so we can work on our history project, we're just gonna walk home together and hang out at the diner."

"That the kid you like?" Matt asked through a mouthful of pancake.

"Does literally everyone know?" He asked incredulously, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Kyla nodded, and Brendon sat back in his seat, trying to hide the red in his cheeks. Why did they have to know everything? People were too invasive these days. Brendon missed when he didn't tell anyone anything.

"It's not a big deal, Brendon." She insisted.

"You guys are annoying." Brendon took a forkful of pancake into his mouth. "And yes, not that it's any of your business."

"And he's walking you home?" Kyla wiggled her eyebrows. "That's so cute."

"No, he's not walking me home. We’re just walking to the diner so we can do our project. It will just happen to be that we're walking next to each other on the same street at the same time to the same place that happens to be where I live." He protested. Telling people that he and Dallon could potentially be something meant that if it didn't happen, he would get his hopes up. Getting his hopes up was the opposite of what he wanted to do.

He shoveled his breakfast in before he jumped up to find his converse by the door. Kyla followed to grab her own shoes, and the boy pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I'm gonna walk with you." She invited herself without bothering to ask if it was okay.

"Are you walking with us?" Brendon asked his brother, who shook his head as he put his plate in the sink.

"I'm driving Allie." His girlfriend.

"Okay then, see ya." He slung his bag over his shoulder. "Bye mama."

"Have a good day!" She called while he followed Kyla down the staircase outside. The cool autumn air of the morning prickled his skin as he followed his sister down the road, casting occasional glances at each other when the other wasn't looking; they weren’t always so good at talking.

"So, how's your project coming along?" She asked finally, and right. He knew she'd ask.

"Fine. It's not that hard so we'll probably be done by today or the next time we get together. To work on the project, that is." He watched the way his legs moved swiftly while he walked down the sidewalk, trying to avoid stepping on any cracks. Even, broad steps. Systematic. The way it was supposed to be.

"Think you'll be friends when you're not working on the project?" She asked, genuine enough to make him think. He averted his gaze downward and watched his black converse walk in time with his sister's boots, shrugging half-heartedly.

"I don't know. It's not like the project is supposed to be long. It's due on Friday. It's still a big part of our grade this quarter though. Our teacher really wants us to do well. She says that your grades junior year are important, but I don’t actually know how true that is. I just wanna do well anyway, though, and he does too, so-“

"Calm down, B, I was just wondering if you're school friends or friend friends." She nudged him in the side suggestively. Lately everyone had been getting so deep into his life and he knew what it was about. Him, trying to get better. Trying to make up for a few lost years. He shrugged again just to humor her. If she wanted conversation, she could have it. Conversation held no value for him these days, anyway.

"I don't know. We only started talking yesterday. School friends."

"Friendships only take a day to grow." She added insightfully.

"That was cheesy." Brendon pointed out sardonically. She laughed, not really getting that he didn't wanna talk about it, and looked up the gray sky. Clouds were rolling above them, and it looked like it was about to rain. He prayed it would wait until they got to school; being caught in the middle of a storm was no fun when you had to sit in an uncomfortable chair for eight hours straight.

Being caught in the middle of a storm was no fun anyway.

"You're a good kid, Brendon. Sometimes. Focus on doing your work and eventually things will go your way. Dallon has no reason not to wanna be your friend."

He appreciated what had turned into a pep talk, but he wasn't sure how badly he needed it. He'd had enough of those stocked up for a lifetime. Besides, Dallon was just a boy. Was a boy worth all the trouble? "I know, I know. I'm not planning on making one of those six month plans to get him to fall in love with me. I'm not a fan of the long-term goals."

"Huh." She thought for a second, like it was something that held deeper meaning. And it could have, but Brendon didn't have the capacity to dig into his words and make them mean something else like Dallon did. He wasn't a question mark and he didn't plan on being one. "Like Kara did her sophomore year of high school with that senior."

Brendon laughed, and she joined in. "Yeah. That. I'm not gonna do that. I'm gonna work on this project with him and then play it by ear, I guess."

"Good plan." She pat his shoulder, and he nodded respectfully. "Good plan. I like it. But you should have long term goals. It's better for your future."

“Yeah, I know. Trust me. But I don't have long term relationship goals. Maybe if I were to have a relationship in the first place..."

She laughed again, not quite getting that that was a part of his life he didn’t yet understand. "Yeah, that'd be a good idea. I'm not gonna push you to ask this guy out or anything, I know Tyler's probably on that already. But at least try to be friends with him. Maybe you can advance toward a relationship in time."

"Maybe." Brendon looked up at the sky, squinting at the clouds and trying to catch them moving. "Are you working today?"

"Nope. I'm hanging out with friends after school. I won't see your buddy."

"Oh." He peeped, wondering how she somehow always saw right through him, and they fell silent until they approached the school.

As he reached school grounds Brendon turned to catch sight of Dallon and his friends standing at Josh’s car, laughing at a story Josh was telling with a lot of hand gestures as a blonde girl walked over to them to take a place beside Ryan. He almost bumped into a circle of freshmen before Tyler reached out to grab his arm, pulling him toward the stairs and exchanging hello’s with Kyla before she punched her little brother’s arm and went to go find her friends.

“Good morning,” Tyler sang jovially, always in a good mood in the mornings though Brendon could never figure out why. Brendon gave him a close-mouthed smile, following him toward the front door, and tried to look back at the parking lot before Tyler added, “you’re exerting some real happy energy today, tiny! What’s goin’ on?”

Brendon looked up at him in surprise as they climbed the front steps, even when he barely showed any emotion did Tyler have him figured out. “Wow.” He laughed to himself, and Tyler grinned like it was a gift. “No, nothing. I talked to Dallon last night. Well, not talked, texted.” He corrected himself when Tyler grabbed his arm. “He texted me to plan to meet up for this project and we just ended up talking for hours. Not about anything serious, mostly about school, but it felt...” He shifted his weight, watching black converse walk alongside floral vans. “Normal. It felt right.”

“That’s so cute, Bren. He wanted to talk to you.” Tyler poked at him like a child wanting attention and Brendon laughed, nodding; he couldn’t deny that one. Dallon wanted to talk to him. You didn’t hold three hour long conversations if you didn’t want to talk. “So, the next step is him falling in love with you and then the wedding, obviously.”

“Well, maybe.” Brendon shrugged, not entirely sure of the situation just yet. Talking wasn’t a sign. Not yet. “So, enlighten me. You’ve been talking to Josh?”

“I have, smiley Urie. Quite a bit. This is surprising, I know, but I’ve discovered that I really do like talking to him and it’s not just his face I like.”

“That is surprising.” Brendon agreed, as he’d never been one to go after the people he really liked. “So...? Are you guys dating?”

"Not yet. But I have a plan." He announced, and Brendon rolled his eyes, couldn’t help laughing because Tyler’s plans were never well thought out, anyway. Giving him an incredulous look, he insisted, "I do!"

Brendon snorted. "I don't even wanna know."

"No?" He asked, and Brendon shook his head. "You're a terrible best friend, Brendon Urie, do you know that? I have supported you for our whole entire friendship, I am planning your wedding, and you won't even hear my actually very intelligent plan.”

"Okay, you're so whiny, yes, I'll hear your plan.”

Tyler crossed his arms stubbornly when Brendon laughed in spite of himself. "Well, I'm not too sure I wanna tell you anymore."

Brendon threw his head back in exasperation, and Tyler grinned back at him cheekily. Sometimes, he just liked to mess with him. "Lord, Tyler Joseph, you are a handful."

"And I like it just that way." Tyler linked their arms together, pulling him down the hallway. "Now, c'mon, littlest Urie, listen to my plan. It's a good one this time."

Time went by slowly when Brendon was trying to wrap his head around a new reality. He sat with his cheek in his hand and scribbled in his notes aimlessly, waiting with little patience for the first bell to ring and then the last, every day felt so much longer now. Dallon stepped into the history room with Ryan at his side, and as Brendon glanced up Dallon glanced down. They smiled at each other— was Brendon's heart fluttering— and Dallon slid into his assigned seat while he hummed a quiet hello. And every once in a while, Dallon turned around in his seat in the middle of class to smile at him, just because.

The rain was pouring when he stepped outside after the final bell and shifted to the side of the stoop to wait. People filed out of the building around him as he stayed under the awning, watching his peers rush to the bus stop or cars or to find shelter, wondering why rain was such a big deal. It was only water falling from the sky. Boulder City didn’t get much rain, the desert never did, but the weather was changing a lot these days.

It used to feel special. He’d sit in the diner and watch the rain fall and the lightning strike and then he got scared. Now, after all those years, it just felt like a warning sign.

“Hey, Urie.” Dallon’s voice said suddenly and Brendon turned to look at him, shocked for a second until he wasn’t.

“Hi. Good morning. Afternoon. Um.” He looked down at his sneakers, realizing he and Dallon were wearing the same ones though Dallon’s were high tops. “Should we, like, take the bus home, or something? I mean, to the diner. My home. Not yours. Um. I didn’t know it was gonna be raining when we got out.”

Dallon smiled, reaching out to grab Brendon’s wrist and pulling him closer to avoid the cluster of students emerging from the building. “I brought an umbrella, if you don’t mind walking.”

“I’m okay with walking,” Brendon assured him, and stood by while Dallon found his umbrella stuffed in his backpack. “You came prepared.” He added, letting Dallon guide him under the umbrella and then down the wet front steps, careful not to slip.

“I always do.” Dallon smiled down at him and Brendon mirrored the look, a little surprised at their exchange. Dallon held the umbrella in one hand, wrapped an arm around Brendon’s back to pull him in closer with the other, trying to keep him out of the rain and not catching the smile he was giving the ground when Dallon’s hand touched his side.

“It’s not a long walk,” Brendon promised after a few minutes of silence, their arms brushing every step.

“It’s okay.” Dallon shrugged, and the umbrella shifted above them. “I like walking sometimes. It’s cathartic.”

"Really? Walking is cathartic for you?" Brendon asked, and Dallon smiled at him like he wasn’t in on the joke. They looked both ways and crossed the street together, and Dallon nodded pointedly, watching Brendon watch their sneakers beside one another stepping in puddles on cemented ground.

"Anything is cathartic if you make it, Brendon." He figured, and Brendon looked up at him, finding himself smiling so easily all of a sudden. “Everything is what you make of it.”

“Hm.” He looked away again, wondering if he’d ever actually get to know the Dallon who kept his walls up, for a reason he would find out one day but wouldn't know for a while. Everybody was a bit guarded. Dallon was just locked in his armor. “So, you said that you know the city well?”

Dallon nodded again, twisting the umbrella aimlessly. “Yeah, I do. And the outskirts and big cities. I’ve been around, lived in Henderson so I was always creeping into Vegas somehow, made friends with the hidden gems and still like to visit. I like occupying myself. Going out to see what I can find.”

"Oh. Huh. I like laying in bed and staring up at my ceiling." Brendon figured, and he hadn’t meant for it to be funny but Dallon laughed anyway. “No, I’m not kidding! Seriously. I’ve memorized every pattern in the squiggles on the ceiling. Like, in the plaster. Or whatever ceilings are made of. There’s one that looks like a dinosaur holding a cake.”

He didn’t know why he thought that would be a good thing to tell him because Dallon laughed again and Brendon felt like he was going to throw up. “I’ll have to check it out sometime.” He said casually, and Brendon nodded, maybe he would like that. “And hey, you should get out. Go on an adventure.” He added, elbowing him in the side, and Brendon could feel heat rise to his cheekbones as he looked down at his shoes again, pushing up his glasses. "Life is better when you have something to look forward to.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Maybe I should.” He agreed, and Dallon tilted his head back to look at the top of the umbrella, watching raindrops slip away. “Maybe I should.”

When they arrived Dallon pulled open the door to the diner, letting Brendon in first and then shaking out the umbrella. The little bell above the door chimed happily when the door fell shut, and Brendon peeled off his jacket. It was nice to be in the warmth of home again. He nodded his head in acknowledgment to his father in the back and Kara, taking orders at the counter.

“Sorry it’s kind of crowded,” Brendon apologized, leading Dallon to the corner booth and turning to look over his shoulder, smiling because he couldn’t believe he was spending the day with Dallon Weekes after years of trying to find the right words to say to him. He set his bag down on his seat and asked, “do you want anything to eat? Drink? On the house.”

Dallon slid into the booth and looked at him for a second, considering the offer and nodding when Brendon quirked a brow. “Dr. Pepper. Thank you.”

“Sure.” Brendon went to retrieve two glasses behind the counter, and he could feel Dallon’s eyes on him as he filled them each with ice and soda. He grabbed two straws swiftly and carried them to their table, just as Dallon looked away like he hadn’t been watching. Brendon didn’t know the score. Maybe he shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions. He placed the straw and glass in front of him, nodding evenly. "Every time you're here you get Dr. Pepper."

“Of course I do. It’s the only option.” He accepted the drink and Brendon watched him peel open the straw wrapper, smiling stupidly to himself. “Thanks, Urie. I didn’t suggest that we meet here because I knew you’d give me free soda, but...”

“But that’s why you suggested we meet here,” Brendon said, and they both laughed as Brendon joined him at the booth. “It’s alright. Everyone does it. I’m the one that offers people free things. Just people I like.” He added, and Dallon looked up at him fondly before he could take it back, realizing how that sounded. “Okay. Um. So, we don’t have much left.”

“Yeah.” Dallon agreed, watching Brendon unzip his backpack and pull out his notes like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. When Brendon looked up at him, he seemed to realize he’d been zoning out and busied himself in searching for his laptop in his bag. “Do you wanna type the notes into the powerpoint? I can edit it and make it look nice after. Theme it and everything.”

“Yeah, sure.” Brendon accepted the laptop and Dallon told him the passcode, taking Brendon’s notes in exchange and nodding cordially as he logged in. The home screen appeared and Brendon traced the enter button aimlessly as his apps appeared, lining the sides of a photo of what looked like the edge of a cliff under a clear sky. “Hey, what’s this? Your wallpaper?”

Dallon looked up from the papers, flattening them out with his fingers smoothly. “The Grand Canyon. I, uh. I went with my mom on my seventeenth birthday. It’s pretty neat there. Kind of crazy knowing how far down you can fall.”

“It sounds terrifying,” Brendon said quietly, reaching out to touch the screen like he could feel the fresh air out in Arizona. “You’re seventeen?” Dallon nodded, fixing a crease in the crumbled notebook paper. “But you’re not a senior, right...? What’s your birthday?”

“May fourth. Star Wars day, which is ironic because I’m a huge nerd.” He looked down at his hands, stretching his fingers thoughtlessly. “And no, I’m not a senior. I just had these weird attention problems in kindergarten, and this separation anxiety because I couldn’t be away from my parents. I had to go to therapy for it for a while and I repeated the year. Plus, my best friend is a year younger and our parents really wanted us to stay together. Which is kind of weird, y’know, but they were looking out for me. Making sure I wasn’t isolated.”

“Oh. I get that. I was lonely as a kid.” Brendon clicked on the shortcut Dallon had made for the presentation on his home screen. “I wasn’t good at making friends. I’m still not. So.” He shrugged, and then again Dallon probably didn’t want to hear about his tragic childhood. “So, uh. That means you’re turning eighteen in May?”

“Yep.” He sat up a little, looking over Brendon’s face with intrigue. “What about you? Anything unique?”

Brendon shook his head, unused to making small talk with someone he wanted to impress. “Nope. Nothing about me is unique. April twelfth. I’m, uh, sixteen, though. Still a baby.”

“Don’t say that, young Aries. You’re totally unique.” Dallon smiled that fucking smile and swatted at him with the papers in his hands, not giving him any time to smile back. “Like you have the ability to somehow have the most crumpled up notes in the history of crumpled up notes even though they’ve done nothing but sit in your backpack all day.” Brendon recoiled, laughing. “Now come on. I’ll read; you type. I wanna finish this soon so I can go home and eat.”

“Oh, no. You can eat here. My parents won’t mind.” Brendon offered, and Dallon almost smiled as Brendon started to click through the slides, considering the offer. “Hey, where do you live, anyway? You said you used to live in Henderson but you’re in BC now, right?”

“Oh, yeah, I moved here when I was younger. Work related thing. I live in the apartment building on Marina, up the parkway.” He nodded his head in that general direction, going to pull a notebook and a pencil out of his bag without holding Brendon’s gaze.

Brendon looked at him for a second, his eyebrows furrowing in distress until Dallon looked back up at him. “Fuck. This is so out of the way for you.”

Dallon shook his head reassuringly. “No-“

“Dallon, you should have told me!”

“It’s a five minute drive, Brendon, stop. Don’t worry about it.” He promised, though Brendon felt guilty for making him come all the way to the diner when they could have just stayed at the school library to work. “Now hop to, Urie!”

“Okay.” Brendon laughed, smiling at him and then down at the keyboard of his unfamiliar laptop. “Can you turn up your brightness? Do you only use this thing in a cave?”

“Hey!” Dallon laughed too and reached out to grab his computer, pulling it sideways and away from Brendon. “It’s the key with the sun on it. Maybe you’re the one who lives in a cave. Do-“

“Are you getting married?” Brendon interrupted, catching the glint of a silver wedding band around his ring finger. Dallon looked up at him, eyebrows raised, and Brendon’s heart started pounding. He knew not to be invasive. He knew not to overanalyze. Not to do his thing. But— “I’m— sorry. I didn’t mean— like. The ring. It’s a wedding ring, right?” He pointed to it dumbly.

Dallon looked down, not smiling anymore, and guilt ached in Brendon’s stomach when Dallon nodded, twisting the ring off and back on habitually. “Yeah. I mean, yes to it being a wedding ring. Not to me getting married. I’m not. It’s— uh. It’s a family thing. A sentimental thing. Not married.” He looked up at him, and Brendon tried to read that look in his eye but couldn’t. He was silent for a second, staring, and then he said quietly, “Brendon.”

Confused, he looked from his mouth to his eyes. “Hm?”

“Why did you open Internet Explorer?”

Brendon burst out into laughter and Dallon rolled his eyes, going to find Chrome instead. “I couldn’t find any other browser! Your apps are so disorganized. You gotta let me clean it for you. Your computer, I mean. Find a place for all this stuff.” He looked between Dallon and the screen, accepting the laptop back and opening up the slides once more. “Thanks. I’m like, a grandma with technology. I think I was born in my seventies. You wanna read everything off to me?”

“Yeah, sure.” Dallon bumped a fist against Brendon’s arm and gathered his notes again, his eyes lingering on brown ones a second too long though Brendon never realized.

He read the sentence they had left off on and Brendon nodded, typing it into the slide and keeping it short. Would they still spend time together when the project was completed? Nothing lasted forever. Brendon knew that. Everything good had to come to an end. So he typed, promised he could take it from there, and relayed all the information to the powerpoint as Dallon worked on something in his notebook across the table.

"Diner boy." Dallon said suddenly, and Brendon looked up, the name so familiar to him it was like it had taken the place of his own. "People at school call you that."

Brendon nodded minutely, picking at the enter key aimlessly. "I know."

Dallon lowered his notebook in his lap and examined the timid boy across from him, at a loss for words because Brendon usually was. "Do you like it?"

He shrugged, never really thought about it. It was just some label he'd been given after he had accidentally spilled Coke on some kid from school on his first day of work. Nobody really knew his name, but, well. People didn't need to. He was just diner boy. "Everyone calls me that."

"No, but do you like it?" He emphasized, and... Brendon didn't realize he ever had a choice in the matter. He shrugged again, awkwardly looking everywhere but Dallon's eyes, at his lips, at his nose, the little black hoop, at long eyelashes, and then suddenly he was looking at blue irises and Dallon barely smiled, but his eyes held warmth. "Okay. I'll stick to Urie, then."

Brendon nodded, and Dallon did too before he returned to what he was doing. "I like that more," Brendon decided.

They made small talk about school, the weather, the project, and then Brendon realized he was on the last slide and he clicked out of it, feeling his heart beat when Dallon clapped for them riantly. Brendon got them a plate of fries to share and refilled their drinks to celebrate, and just as easily as they talked about school Dallon swiftly changed the subject.

Brendon had barely noticed it, had only realized halfway into a conversation about this new movie Dallon was dying to see. But he smiled, nodded along, agreed that they could definitely watch it together sometime. And when Dallon’s mom called to tell him that she would pick him up they exchanged smiles, and Brendon’s lingered even when he crawled into bed and squealed, hiding his face in his pillow.

Mornings were systematic, and Brendon was up and out before his siblings or parents could point out that hey, he was smiling. He knew them well enough to know. But he and Dallon were just friends. Were they friends? He tugged on a black button-up, opting for the black jeans instead of the red, and he didn’t have time to play the guessing game.

Tyler caught Brendon’s arm as he reached school grounds, rushing out a hello and dragging him toward the building. Brendon muttered a hello as his gaze lingered on the parking lot, scanning familiar faces before he found the one he was looking for. When he caught sight of Dallon leaning against Ryan’s car he could see that Dallon was looking right at him, unobstructed. Brendon could feel heat cluster in his cheeks and a smile meet his lips before he raised his hand in a wave. Dallon waved back, and they held each other's gazes before Ryan said something to get Dallon's attention.

"Are you even listening to me?" Tyler's voice appeared suddenly as if they hadn't been talking. And for all Brendon knew they hadn’t been, he was too occupied to remember. Had he even greeted him?

Brendon waited until Dallon's attention had shifted away before he glanced at Tyler, only partly apologetic. "Sorry, were you talking?"

"Yes, actually, I was talking." Tyler forced him up the stairs, his grip tight on Brendon’s arm. "In fact, I was talking about how I asked the light of my life Joshua out on an actual real life date, imagine that, and he said yes."

Brendon turned to look at him. "Wait, you did?!"

Tyler snorted. "If you ever fucking listened to me, you would have heard me the first time! I accidentally," He used finger quotes, making Brendon snort, "ran into him when he was hanging out with Ryan yesterday and I told him that we should hang out outside of school one day. And he asked if it was a date, and I said, only if you want it to be, and he said he did, and then Ryan said he admired how bold I was. I said that was my best quality, and Josh said, don't worry, you've got a lot of good qualities."

"Holy shit." Brendon followed him down the hallway. "So, you're going on a date with Joshua Sunshine Dun."

“I am going on a date with Joshua Sunshine Dun.” Tyler confirmed, and they both laughed because it felt like a shift. Tyler turned to grin at him, elbowing him suggestively, and Brendon guessed he really didn’t know everything. “So, after school you’re coming over to help me pick out something to wear. Or rather, keep me company, because you have no sense of style whatsoever. I don’t want to look like I just emerged from Justice or The Children’s Place or something. You look nice today though, Bren, is that for the presentation?” Brendon nodded, not bothering to interrupt. “I like you in black. You’re so cute. Are you working today?”

“Oh, thank you.” He tugged at his shirt self-consciously. “And no, I have the day off, if you want me.”

“I always want you, baby Urie!” Tyler hooked an arm around his neck and he smiled, that was nice to hear, as they started down another hallway. “So, you’ve heard my drama, enlighten me with yours. What’s going on with Dallon? Are you guys fucking yet? I feel like I've been waiting centuries. Please give me good news. Water my crops. Feed my children."

"Well, your crops are dead, and your children... are dead too, I guess," Tyler laughed along with him, "because we're not fucking. But the project is due today, so I guess we're not gonna be hanging out anymore. Unless he wants to, but...”

Tyler turned to look at him, distraught and grabbing his arm fiercely. “No! Brendon, no. You can’t go back to nothing. This is gonna be good for you. I can tell. You have to do me a favor and do him so hard.” Brendon threw his head back in exasperation, opening his mouth to protest. “No, I’m serious! Brendon Urie, I will never forgive you if you don't. You and Dallon need to be together. You'd be so pretty together. You look like the kind of couple that would be on a magazine cover."

Brendon let out a laugh and turned away to hide the red creeping up on his cheeks, unused to the compliments. "Stop." He shoved him, but the sentiment was there. “Okay. Look. I’m gonna try, okay? More than I usually do. I’m gonna try. So maybe we’ll keep talking. If he wants to spend more time with me then he can. I just don’t wanna pressure him into being friends with me because he knows that I have no other friends. I don’t want him to feel obligated. I’m gonna let him take it from here. That’s all I can give you for now. That’s the best I can do.”

“That’s good enough for me.” The first bell rang, and they exchanged grins. “Have fun presenting, little Urie. Let me know how it goes. Good luck or whatever. I’ll see you in physics.” He bumped his fist against Brendon’s. “See ya.”

“See ya.” Brendon turned to head toward his history classroom, holding his backpack strap tight and staring down at his sneakers as they crossed the threshold.

Dallon was sitting in Ashley’s spot when Brendon looked up from his shoelaces that had come untied, startling as he hadn’t been expecting him. Dallon was typing with one hand when Brendon set his bag down on his desk, catching his attention to give him this warm, hazy smile. “Morning.” He greeted, clicking his phone locked and setting it screen down on the desk when Brendon took the seat beside him. “You ready to present?”

“No,” Brendon admitted, running his hands over his thighs and realizing they were trembling. “No, I hate presenting. I hate talking to people, actually. And talking in front of people. I— I just hate talking. Cause I mess up a lot. With people watching me, and listening to me, and— y’know.”

“I get it.” He nodded sympathetically, and Brendon turned to look at him, suddenly embarrassed. He was trying to impress Dallon, not let him know how childish he was. “I mean it. I don’t really talk to people either.” He looked away, smiling at the front of the room aimlessly. “Yeah, people aren’t my thing. But I’ll do most of the talking, if you want me to. If it makes it easier on you.”

Brendon was quiet for a second when Dallon looked at him again, trying to figure it out. How he could be so nice when he hardly knew him. “Thanks.” He gratified sincerely, and Dallon nodded like it was nothing, though it wasn’t. They could pretend they were strangers, dance around each other like they did in the halls, but once upon a time Dallon had seen him. In this way that no one else ever had, when they were both vulnerable and taking off their masks.

“Sure thing,” Dallon said, and Ms. Brown clapped her hands, catching her students’ attention.

Brendon folded his arms anxiously and tried to smile when Dallon leaned over to make comments about the other presentations until it was their turn. He’d never been good at school or presentations, having to stand up in front of the classmates that thought it was so damn funny to whisper about him and make him lose his focus. Having to collect his words and file them so that they made sense. He wasn’t always good at that.

“You okay, Urie?” Dallon asked quietly as he followed Brendon back to his seat, and Brendon turned to nod at him incredulously, almost missing it when Ms. Brown called up the next group and clicked out of their slides. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m okay,” Brendon promised, and slid into his seat as he looked away. “It wasn’t that bad. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Okay.” Dallon left it alone, but Brendon could feel his burning gaze for the rest of the class until the bell rang and he jumped up, walking too fast to catch up to Tyler in the hallway. His hands were still sweaty, his heart was still pounding, and he hated being the center of attention, but he hated it even more when Dallon noticed.

In English class Dallon’s assigned seat was in the center of the room and Brendon’s was in the back, but Dallon still managed to look back and smile cordially at him as he took his seat. He’d never done that before, Brendon didn’t think. Not as conspicuously. Brendon opened his mouth to say hello but the words died in his throat, and he was left staring at him stupidly, thinking he was just being nice because Brendon had seemed on the verge of panicking all morning.

In a much smaller math class they sat on opposite sides of the room, as everybody kept to themselves and did work alone, the teacher never suggested they find a partner. Dallon sat in the farthest back corner, always doing something that certainly wasn’t math though Brendon couldn’t pinpoint what. Brendon sat up in the top corner like an island, everyone was far enough away that no one would so much as ask him for a pencil. Sometimes he and Dallon smiled at each other passively, nodded in acknowledgment but never broke that barrier between them. And maybe they would, but Brendon still sat alone, avoiding Dallon’s gaze because he didn’t want to seem desperate.

He waited for Tyler outside after school, rocking back and forth on his heels and squinting underneath his glasses as he looked around for a familiar face. Tyler came out of nowhere and made him startle, only laughed when he jumped, linked their arms together and pulled him to his mother’s car in the parking lot. Silently he slid into the backseat, half out of breath, and nodded a hello to Tyler’s mom.

“Hi, Bren. How have you been?” She greeted, looking at him through the rearview mirror as her son slid into the passenger seat. She had met Brendon something of six years ago when he was sitting in the middle of her living room, playing Mario Kart and yelling about how Tyler had to be cheating because there was just no way. He blushed when he caught her gaze, apologized for shouting, but she took a liking to him instantly. And now, well, things were different. Easier.

“Hi. Good. Better.” He buckled his seatbelt, digging his phone out of his pocket. “Did you hear the news?”

“About Josh? He won’t stop talking about him.” She rolled her eyes playfully and Tyler groaned overdramatically, turning a few heads from the freshmen lingering in the parking lot and making Brendon hide his face in embarrassment.

Tyler’s mother started a conversation with her son and Brendon scrolled through his feed, absently liking a few photos after not having checked his social media since the morning. He didn’t have much of an online presence, not since he’d come out on Instagram and long since deleted the post because people had some things to say. But he pretended that never happened sometimes, had just about everyone from school blocked, tried to forget about the things they said to him. It was easier online than it was in person, where he was still learning to ignore the glares he got in the halls.

“Brendon,” Tyler said suddenly from the front seat, and Brendon looked up at him, lowering his phone onto his lap. “Do you want food?”

“Duh. I always want food.”

Tyler’s mom smiled, knew it was true, and pulled into the McDonald’s drive-through while Brendon pocketed his phone and gazed out the window longingly like he was in some sad movie, but caught sight of Tyler in the side-view mirror. They stuck their tongues out at each other while Tyler's mother ordered their food.

Brendon chased Tyler to his room when they got there, calling a goodbye to Tyler’s mother in passing somewhere between the foyer and the staircase. He took a seat on the bed and nibbled mindlessly on a nugget while Tyler rooted through his closet to find something to wear for his date, pushing clothes aside like touching a shirt for more than half a second would set him on fire. “So, what are you guys planning on doing? And when?”

“Tomorrow evening.” Tyler turned to look at him and Brendon smiled, wondered when he became a person to use the word evening casually. “We’re going to dinner downtown. So I should look nice, right? I gotta look nice.”

Brendon made a noise to say he didn’t know and returned to his food as Tyler shot him a look of disdain and pulled a shirt off the hanger. He examined it, holding it to his chest, and turned to look at Brendon for his opinion. “Yeah, you look good in that.” He said, but Tyler looked back down at it before he shoved it back into the closet. “What’s the point of asking me if you’re not gonna actually listen to me?”

"Because. I love you, baby Urie, but you dress like a toddler and have bad taste. I'm just using you for your company. And your cute little smile." He cooed when Brendon quirked an eyebrow at him. "Besides, us gays have to dress each other. It's like, a thing."

"That's what they call a stereotype."

"A stereotype, sure, but it's more fun this way!" He argued, and Brendon bit at a fry but shrugged, he was probably right about that. "Besides, straight people are so moody all the time cause they don't have fun montages with their friends as they get dressed. Seriously. Don't laugh." He pointed at Brendon when he smiled. "I'm serious. Give me a fry."

"Uh-huh." Brendon let him take the last one, though he'd gotten his own. "So, do you think that Dallon's helping Josh, then? I mean, not that he's gay, because we don't know that, but-"

"According to Josh, we do know that." He interrupted, and Brendon leaned forward to flop onto his stomach as he balled up his trash and threw it toward the bin in the corner. "But maybe he is, tiny. Why don't you text him and ask him?"

Brendon looked up at him to catch his smirk before he looked back down at his phone, and who could it hurt? “Maybe I will, fucker.” He said, and as Tyler returned to rooting through his closet Brendon picked up his phone and unlocked it, letting his thumb hover for a minute before he opened his messages and typed one out to Dallon.

Brendon: hey, u helping josh prep for his date with tyler?

Brendon chewed on his thumb nail absentmindedly, staring down at the screen and feeling stupid for even trying to initiate conversation. But Dallon was his friend. Or he was more than an acquaintance. He wasn’t out of line. He wasn’t desperate.

Dallon: are... are you looking into his window?

Dallon: Brendon!

Brendon: oh shit how did u know

Brendon: gtg

Dallon: lol yes I am and he's being irritating he doesn't know what to wear and he's freaking out and because I have "impeccable style" I MUST be the one to help. you know Ryan still wears scarves so

Brendon: I happen to like the scarves very much!! and also tyler thinks I have shitty taste and dress like a child but he bought me food and needs company so I'm being the "supportive best friend" I should be

Dallon: you're a good friend :)

Brendon: that means u are too

Dallon: awe!

Dallon: what's he thinking of wearing?

Brendon: a button up probably???? I didn't even know he owned a button up until like twelve seconds ago idk he literally wears the same three things

Dallon: so does Josh?? I'll tell him to wear a button up.

Brendon: I'll tell tyler too

Dallon: we're a good team

Brendon couldn't help but beam down at his phone like a dazed moron.

Brendon: I agree

"What's up, smiley?" Tyler's voice got Brendon's attention.

"Dallon." Was all he said, and Tyler gave him a cheeky grin, loved hearing about Brendon's fascination with the boy, excused the way he acted like a middle schooler because it was such a middle school crush.

"What about Dallon?" He urged, overly invested though everybody was.

Brendon rolled his eyes, knew what he was doing, and looked back at the conversation with this stupid smile. He couldn’t be making this all up. “He’s with Josh. Wear a button-up. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

“Huh. So the stereotype is true. What about this one?” He held up a navy blue button-up and Brendon nodded, so he set it aside, smoothed it out over his desk, and went to join Brendon on the bed. “Okay, BU, we’ve been talking about me all day. What’s up with you? How was your presentation? I saw no tears today so I figure it went well?”

“It was okay.” Brendon shrugged, scooting over to give him room. “I was nervous cause I’m always nervous. But Dallon talked for most of it, I’m sure that’ll end up affecting my grade but it just... it freaks me out, I guess. All those people. But he was nice about it. He’s really smart. Knows how to talk in front of people and everything.”

"Well, good. Not that you were nervous, that Dallon knew what he was doing. You need someone who knows what they're doing." Tyler figured, and he meant more than he said.

And Brendon... well, Brendon did too. "Well, I think you're right."

On the drive home Brendon’s mother listened to him talk about his presentation as he played with the hem of his shirt, smiling back at him with pride. It didn’t seem like a big deal, standing in front of the class for five minutes and managing not to cry, but it was a step. A big one.

He peeled off his jacket in the front room with a long sigh and smiled; his siblings were out of the house and it was Friday night and he had a good week. So he took advantage of it, climbed into a hot shower and stared down at his feet as he scrubbed his body with his favorite strawberry body wash. And he changed into a big tee shirt and sweatpants, crawled right into bed, smiled to himself as he grabbed his laptop and propped it up to put on a movie until he was tired enough to fall asleep. As he did, he let his mind wander. That wasn’t always so dangerous.

Maybe things would be different.


	4. Chapter 3: Messing with The System

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there's not at least a smidge of angst then is it really my writing

Brendon was standing at the counter replacing napkins in the holders when the little bell above the door chimed. The clock read eight thirty-seven, and Brendon was still tired after waking up a little over an hour prior to work the morning Saturday shift. Not many people were there, they rarely showed up before ten thirty for breakfast on the weekends anyway, but Brendon's dad insisted on opening as early as possible for those who rose early.

Brendon looked up to greet the new customer with the smile he was programmed to give but he could feel his features settle into something more sincere when he saw Dallon step inside with a bag slung over his shoulder and a dark green sweatshirt on, his hair unkempt from the wind and his cheeks pink from the cold, colder than autumn usually was. Brendon was surprised to see him, especially so early, as he thought that maybe they wouldn't be seeing much of each other since they'd finished the presentation.

"Bren Urie." He greeted, reaching out a hand in a hello.

"Dal Weekes. Hey. Good morning." Brendon smiled warmly when Dallon walked over to the counter and leaned over it, almost close enough to be too close.

"Good morning.” He dragged a hand through messy hair, smiling in this way that Brendon couldn't decipher. “I've got some bad news." He added blatantly, and Brendon’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. It wasn’t even nine o’clock yet and he was already getting bad news. “Ah, it turns out that I actually really like spending time with you. Who knew?”

Brendon stared at him for a second before his frown turned into a smile and then a quiet laugh when Dallon grinned at him. Amused, he asked, “And how is that bad news?”

"Well, now you're stuck with me. Sorry, I don't make the rules." Dallon sat down at the counter with a half smile and tilted his head sincerely, reaching out his hands like he was going to take Brendon’s though he didn’t. "Seriously, Urie, hanging out with you's been fun."

"Yeah, you too," Brendon nodded, glad he hadn’t been the first to say it. For days he had been wondering how to ask Dallon if he wanted to be real friends. Feeling a little bold, he added, "so I suppose we're friends now."

"Looks that way." Dallon quirked an eyebrow playfully and Brendon tried to smile, reminding himself that not everything had to turn out badly. He spent a lot of time learning how to psych himself out, teaching himself not to get his hopes up, realizing that wanting something too bad just made it more disappointing when it didn’t end up happening. But this was different. Brendon wasn’t going to let this end up with his worst case scenarios.

"Um, do you want anything?" He gestured to the back counter suddenly, realizing that he was still in the midst of a conversation and on the clock.

“Oh, yeah. I swear I didn’t come here just to ambush you to force you to be friends with me. I came here for coffee. To go, please. I’d stick around, but I’ve got stuff to do today.” He said apologetically, and Brendon nodded in understanding, going to grab the coffee pot. Saturdays were busy. "But seriously, we should hang out. As friends, not partners on a project."

"Yeah, sure. I need friends anyway." Brendon looked at him with a half smile of his own as he grabbed a to-go cup and filled it with coffee. And it wasn't exactly a joke but Dallon assumed it was, smiling when Brendon managed to catch it.

Dallon tapped his knuckles against the counter with a laugh. "Yeah, me too." He reached out to grab some cream and sugar when Brendon set the cup down in front of him, careful not to spill it and embarrass himself even more than he had. "Sucks that you have to work mornings, huh?"

"Yeah, it does." Brendon glanced at the clock, now that he reminded him. Barely any time had passed, and he had a few hours to go. "They think giving the high schooler that gets no sleep the early shifts on the weekend is a good idea, but I actually fell asleep standing up once."

Dallon laughed again, grabbing a mixer, and Brendon smiled, stupidly proud of himself for making him laugh. "I don't doubt that."

"You shouldn't." Brendon raised an eyebrow and Dallon smiled to himself, pulling out two dollar bills and two quarters. Brendon accepted them gratefully and clicked a button on the register, dropping the quarters in first. “Exact change?” He asked, pushing the register shut.

"I like to give exact change. Makes it a lot easier so that I don’t have too much change. I keep pennies and quarters on me in case I see a penny press, though. I’m a sucker for those things. And..." He paused to take out a five dollar bill and handed it to Brendon, "tip."

Brendon looked down at the bill in his hand, wondering if he made a mistake, and then held it up dumbly. "The coffee is two fifty, Dallon. This should be like, twenty cents."

"Well, I like you." He stood up and held up the cup to address it when a blush spread across Brendon's cheeks, leaving him speechless. "Thank you, Brendon. I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah, sure. Of course." He offered a warmhearted look in return, prayed his gratitude would get across, and Dallon waved before he let himself out of the diner and started back into the misty cold of the early October morning. A five dollar tip? For something that was half of that? Wow.

At the end of his shift he felt himself smiling again, pulling off his apron and heading up to his room. He plopped down on his back, staring up at the dinosaur holding a cake, and today it had no advice because he did this all himself. He rolled onto his stomach, squealing like a child, and opened his messages to tell Tyler. Dallon wanted to be friends. Dallon Weekes wanted to be his friend.

* * *

Brendon didn't know that October was when all of the teachers liked to pile on homework for the beginning of the year. It would be fine if Halloween wasn't coming up, if he didn’t have to work at the diner all night since it was busy all day, putting up decorations and handing out candy to everyone who dressed up in costumes. Everyone in the neighborhood liked to eat there before venturing out for trick or treating, as it was in a more central area near the houses than all the other places to eat in BC.

The Monday before Halloween he started to get anxious about all the work he was getting, which in turn made him shut down because he hadn’t yet realized how to handle it better than that. He headed to math, his second to last class, with a hand tight around his backpack strap, watching his sneakers and wondering whether or not his teacher would catch him sleeping on his desk.

“Hey, Bren,” Dallon called suddenly as he crossed the threshold and Brendon startled, not expecting it. He put a hand up in a wave and Brendon smiled tiredly at him, heading over to where Dallon sat each day when he pat the empty chair next to him without much thought. Resting his chin on his knee and twisting a pencil in between his fingertips, he added, “come keep me company in the most boring class of my life.”

“Oh, sure.” Brendon set his bag down on the floor beside him and Dallon smiled in satisfaction, watching him bend down to pull out his notebook. They’d sat on opposite sides of the room for two months, never made an effort to sit together in any classes they’d had together before, and this just didn’t make sense, how he broke that silent agreement that they were acquaintances of comfort and nothing more. How he threw that to the wind because all of a sudden it wasn’t enough. “I’m abandoning my plan to strategically sleep on my desk for you, you know. You owe me.”

"How about lunch, after school?" Dallon offered, assuming that Brendon was serious though he couldn’t actually mean that. Brendon looked up at him, shocked, because that was a date, wasn’t it? Lunch was a date. Or him trying to get to know his new friend, as he’d established, and nothing more meaningful than that. Just a step in the right direction. “If you’re not working, I mean.”

Even if he was working, he would quit his job. "No, I'm not working. And I could use some food. I’m literally always hungry. Where do you wanna go?"

Dallon shrugged and lowered his voice while their teacher began to distribute packets of math problems to prepare for Friday’s test. "I don’t know. Anywhere you want. You can choose. We can just walk downtown and figure it out there, if that's okay with you."

Brendon couldn't help but grin down at his desk, resisting the urge to laugh over nothing; all of a sudden, he wasn’t all that tired anymore. "Yeah, that's fine by me. I'll, um. I'll meet you out front."

Dallon smiled in satisfaction, accepting the packet from their teacher and going to write his name at the top. "Cool."

By the time his final class rolled around he was smiling more than he had been earlier in the day, doodling lazily in his astronomy notebook and eager for the final bell. And he may or may not have sketched out Dallon's name a thousand times in the back of his notebook, glancing up to make sure Ryan didn't catch him from across the room, but he crossed it all out as the final bell rang. Just checking the best font for the wedding invites, was all.

The walk downtown from school was only fifteen minutes and it was easy to bump into someone from school if you weren't careful. But it was a Monday so no one was hanging around, and Brendon didn't bother to censor his smile out of fear that maybe someone would see him and accuse him of something they didn't know anything about. But no one was there, and anyway, he'd heard things about Dallon Weekes. Things that made him untouchable.

They claimed a booth in the back of the restaurant, laughing easily as Dallon told him some story about his friends. Eventually it had become an excited back and forth about all the things they had in common, after all these years of knowing each other and never really knowing each other. Brendon played with the straw in his glass of soda and Dallon payed for them both, nodding at the waitress with a smile as he guided Brendon out and down the street to Red Mountain.

“Tell me something about yourself that no one else knows.” Brendon said conversationally as he looked over the vinyl records on one side of the display, Dallon on the other.

Dallon looked up at him from where he was pulling a used vinyl out of its sleeve, and Brendon smiled hopefully. “I don’t know how to ride a bike.” He said after a minute, giving him this lopsided smile like he knew what he’d say.

“You don’t— Dallon!” He laughed, and Dallon giggled down at his hands because there was a lot that Brendon didn't know. “You don’t know how to ride a bike? That’s so sad!”

“I tried to learn when I was younger! It just— I fell off and scraped my knee and it just seemed easier to walk. My parents tried to make me get back on and try again, my dad was always a really big believer in trying until you succeed, but... I don't know. Never really had the ambition, I guess.” He shrugged, though Brendon couldn’t see that. Dallon seemed the type to be ambitious. “Tell me something about you, Brendon Urie.”

“Hm.” He hummed, running his fingers aimlessly over the tops of the records. “Ah. I do know how to ride a bike.”

“Oh, you are endlessly amusing.” He laughed, eyes following Brendon’s smile when he looked away and back down at the labeled dividers.

“Hey.” A man called suddenly from the front and Brendon jumped, looking up with wide eyes as he interrupted. “Can I help you guys with anything or are ya just browsing?”

“Oh, no, we’re just looking. Thanks,” Dallon smiled at the employee, putting the record in hand down and going to flip through the musical soundtracks. He glanced up at Brendon, his hands shaking as they went to explore unseeingly, and Dallon asked casually, “you get freaked out a lot, don’t you?”

“Huh?” He turned to look at him, shocked he’d realized; he just assumed no one was ever paying attention. He had gone a long time with no one paying attention.

“I mean, like. You get scared a lot. You don’t like people, especially when they’re talking to you, and during the presentation you were shaking, even though it’s just talking in front of like, twenty people for five minutes. I’m not judging, or anything, just observing. You always seem a little on edge.”

“Oh. Yeah. Uh.” He dropped his hands to his sides, giving up on searching for vinyls since he already had dozens that he barely listened to at home. “I get scared really easily. I don’t really know why. It’s just... there’s a lotta bad things that can happen in the world. I like to try and keep my distance from anything that could possibly be bad.”

“Huh. Well, there’s a lot of good things that can happen too.” Dallon figured, thinking about it for a second, and Brendon guessed there were. “Hey, let me walk you home. It’s getting kinda late.”

“No, it’s okay. You live on the other side of the city; it’ll take you forever to get home. You don’t have to do that. I’m fine taking the bus or walking alone.”

“No, Urie, I don’t mind. C’mon.” He led him out of the store and Brendon stayed close to his side, gravitating toward each other though he didn't even notice. “Besides, you’re scared. I’m not gonna let you walk alone when it’s starting to get dark out.”

As they started up the sidewalk Brendon stared up at him, trying to find the words to thank him though nothing seemed to fit right. Dallon smiled, as if to assure him he didn’t have to say anything, and Brendon watched their shoes step together in time as they headed toward his home. They were quiet for a few minutes until they started talking again like it was innate, and Brendon was smiling when Dallon pulled him into a hug before he let him go.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Urie." He said quietly, and took a few steps back toward the street.

“Wait, Dallon,” Brendon called from the doorway as he watched Dallon go, heading toward the bus as it pulled up in front of the diner. Dallon turned, and Brendon asked, “what’s your middle name?”

Dallon smiled at him for a second, like he saw something no one else did. “James. What’s yours?”

“Boyd. I know it’s bad, it’s my dad’s name.” He added with a laugh when Dallon made a face that turned into a laugh too, and the bus halted to a stop.

“Well, Brendon’s a nice name. It makes up for it.” He nodded his head cordially as he headed toward the bus, not bothering to ask why Brendon was wondering though Brendon wasn’t even really sure himself.

“Thanks.” Brendon added, and Dallon stopped to look again. “For walking me home, I mean.”

“Sure thing, Urie.” He smiled like it was nothing, digging his bus card out of his pocket and letting his eyes linger.

And Brendon did too, waiting until the bus had pulled away to go inside.

* * *

Brendon categorized what was going on in his life by the good things and the bad things. Talking to Dallon Weekes, that was definitely one of the good things. Being too scared to try and get any further with Dallon Weekes was one of the bad things.

The good things. These days, they were all he could think about.

Over the next few days Brendon found himself talking to Dallon without worrying about whether or not he’d embarrass himself. That had never happened before, he always found himself watching his words, but now he was smiling at him in the hallway, taking the seat beside him in math without asking first, choosing him as his partner in English because Dallon always turned to smile at him when the teacher announced the classwork.

Brendon expected his family to get involved. Why wouldn't they? They were Uries, they were overly invested in each other's lives and they had no problem sticking their noses where they didn't belong. Brendon was guilty of that too. He sat in the patch of grass behind the house with a book in his hand one day after school, only half listening to the conversation as his brothers made free throws with the torn, rusted basketball hoop.

"So, like, I don't get it. What's the appeal?" Mason asked as the ball fell through the hoop with an easy swoosh. They didn't do this often, spent time just the three of them, as Brendon was closer with his sisters.

Brendon shrugged half-heartedly, thumbing the page of his book and trying to concentrate because he had a paper due on it in a week and he’d barely started reading. It wasn't out of the ordinary for his siblings to ask questions about his sexuality, though he never minded as much as he did when he didn't know how to answer. When he was still trying to figure it out himself. For a while everybody was too scared to keep asking questions, until Brendon's mother let it slip that Brendon finally liked a boy. Though it wasn't a matter of finally liking a boy, just a matter of finally admitting to liking a boy. That was a milestone in itself, he supposed.

"I mean, not that there's anything wrong with it." He added as a second thought, worried that he'd say something off-putting that his baby brother wouldn't like.

"You don't have to clarify that you accept homosexuality, you know. I don't care if you're okay with it." He said, not bothering to look up from his book.

Mason looked surprised. "Brendon, you know I'm okay with it."

"And that's why you don't have to clarify it." He looked up at him, and both of his brothers were looking at him too. "But I don't know. The same appeal that girls see in guys. Except I see it too."

"But like... guys?" Matt added, and Brendon huffed. The October chill was refreshing, as was the fact that his brothers were spending time with him for once. They used to tease him a lot as a kid, he was small and dorky and not like them, but they stopped when he came out. They were just afraid to keep it up, he guessed, scared for it to be labeled as something it wasn't.

"Thought we established that."

"Obviously." He rolled his eyes. "So, what about sex? How does that work?"

Brendon's face flared up with an embarrassed blush, and he avoided his eyes though he could see him smiling in amusement in his peripheral vision. "Jesus, Matt, I don't know! I don't have sex. It's just like normal sex, I guess."

"I mean, yeah, duh." Mason added, and Matt turned toward him from where he was standing a few feet away. "Except that one guy puts it in the other guy's ass."

"Can we not talk about this?" Brendon peeped, but they wouldn't listen, always having favored embarrassing their little brother anyway.

"Okay, B, real talk." Matt approached him and crouched down in front of him with a stare so intimidating that Brendon had to look up to meet his eyes. "If you were having sex, and I'm not saying that you are, would you be the one taking it up the ass?"

Brendon's eyes widened, and when Mason let out a laugh, he ducked his head and closed the book over his fingers. He was used to it, he had to be, but he'd spent his entire life avoiding this conversation. With a fierce blush, he sputtered, "I-I don't know, I haven't thought about it. I don't want to think about that."

"Okay, okay, I get it." Matt reached out to pat his cheek and then stood back up with arms outstretched in Mason's direction, so he tossed him the ball that he'd collected from the ground. "So, you're not ready to think or talk about it, you're not ready to do it. I can respect that." He sauntered across the lot and threw the ball at a distance. "I still couldn't get behind another dude's dick anywhere near me, though."

"Me neither." Mason added, but Brendon just rolled his eyes and tilted his head back against the wall.

"That's not why I like boys. It’s not all about sex. It's a stereotype that all gay guys are obsessed with that and it’s not true, okay? And being gay isn't any different than being straight so I don't want to be treated like it is. I mean, of course I'll always get shit for it, there's stigma and bias and all that bullshit, it's harder than being straight, but it's not like I'm a different species."

"Calm down, Bren. We aren't trying to force you into some box." Matt said, Brendon always got defensive over everything, though within reason because at first they all treated him like he was.

"I know. I'm just saying. The way you like girls is the way I like guys. Natural. Habitual." He made a smooth wave gesture with his hand coolly, and they both smiled at him. "If you ask Kyla or Kar about what they like about guys, their answers would be mine. Minus the sex stuff, I'm sure. I mean, I don’t actually know what they would say. I just used that example cause they’re girls. Ah." He looked away. “You know what? I take that back. I’m not gonna stereotype myself. I’m not a girl.” He corrected himself, because he still had a lot to learn about himself too. “I’m just attracted to boys, okay?”

"Okay, okay. So if you don't like the artificial shit like sex, then you care about personality," Mason configured.

"Exactly!"

"But every guy is an idiot."

Brendon put his head in his hands, book cast aside on the grass. "No, Mase, every guy is not an idiot. Most guys are idiots. But..." He pulled his knees to his chest and shrugged, suddenly warm; that tended to happen. "Dallon is different. I don’t know. He's the only guy I've ever actually liked, y'know? And of course I like the way he looks, it started out just based on his looks. I mean, he's got a lot going for him. Y'know, physically. Tall, really fucking attractive, all the cliché shit you hear about in those dumb hetero romance novels. And the nose ring. I'm a hoe for nose rings."

"Heartfelt." Matt snorted, tossing the ball aimlessly in the direction of the hoop and not getting it in. "Have you even had a conversation with this guy? Before being forced to, I mean."

"I was not forced." He argued, but then again, the project was kind of a nudge. "And yeah, I mean, every once in a while we talked at school. I used to bump into him a lot. Not recently. But I mean, now I'm getting to know him. We hung out the other day. And I think it’s one of those situations where, like, he was this idealistic thing at first, and now I realize that I actually really like talking to him. I mean, it’s not just the idea of him anymore that I like. It’s... like, real.”

"Huh. I mean, I don't think I could fall for a guy, but great for you. Y'know, that you know what you like. It's pretty cool." Mason commended, and Matt nodded in agreement.

"Yeah. Thanks." Brendon nodded respectfully, grateful that they were listening despite them not always seeing eye to eye. “Now can you guys stop interrogating me? I have to finish this book by Friday.”

“Okay, dork.” Matt sighed but turned to look at his older brother because sometimes it felt like they had all found some common ground.

Every time Brendon’s family asked questions it got him thinking. He placed things in boxes. He wasn’t excluded from that. And there were stereotypes to everyone, Brendon learned that more and more with age, as he grew to learn that people thought a lot about him that wasn’t true. That he was obsessed with sex, flamboyant, rainbow centric, and loud. But Brendon wasn’t flamboyant, not unless his nail polish counted, and maybe his wardrobe though that was unintentional. He was scared to have sex and he tended to be quiet and always kept to himself, so where did he fit in if not the box that everyone else was putting him in?

All his life he put things into boxes. But maybe it wasn’t that simple. He thought when he realized who he was that he would have to fit into a box like everyone else. But after a few years of searching all he found was that it got harder and harder to categorize himself when he didn’t fit in with any of the stereotypes.

When Brendon started speaking to Dallon he put him in a box of his very own because he wasn’t like anybody he’d ever met. He was reserved. Quiet. Enigmatic. But that was the thing: Dallon was an enigma. There was so much Brendon didn’t know about him yet. And Brendon had gotten good at fitting people into boxes, color coding and organizing and compartmentalizing. That was what he did. But he couldn’t figure out where Dallon fit; that was where he was throwing off the system. And Brendon was going to put it right back on its axis. He just had to figure out how.

On Friday afternoon Brendon invited Dallon over without even realizing it, mentioning that they should do homework together and then catching the invite come out of his mouth when Dallon suggested they do it after school. He smiled down at his feet as they walked together, heading toward home, and Dallon’s shoulder brushed his own as they talked, feeling like it had been forever that they’d been friends. Like it hadn’t just been a few days and conversation that meant more than nothing.

"So I get to see beyond the diner?" Dallon asked as he followed Brendon through the front door, looking around as the movement of the diner never died. Matt moved past them quickly, carrying a tray, and Dallon stepped back to let him by, unused to the fast-paced environment.

Brendon nodded, but kept his smile to himself as they headed toward the back. “The behind the scenes isn’t as exciting.” He turned, gesturing to his brothers as they did their respective jobs. “My brothers, Matt and Mason.” He raised his voice to catch their attention and they waved, but only exchanged knowing glances once Dallon had looked away. Brendon guided him toward the stairs, glaring at them though Dallon didn't catch it. "My oldest sister is out right now and I don't know where my other one is. C'mon.”

Dallon followed him up the spiral staircase and Brendon shook his hands at his side, feeling jittery as Dallon was passing some sort of invisible line between school friends and real friends. Like it was more than them just planning on doing some homework. He followed closely behind as Brendon led him into the front room, kicking off his shoes, and then to the kitchen once Dallon had done the same. Dallon observed his surroundings, smiled at the photos on the walls, tried to get to know Brendon beyond the big eyes he’d grown into.

“Hey.” Brendon greeted, and his mother looked up from where she was cleaning up in the kitchen to catch the boy she didn’t recognize standing beside her son. Dallon stood up straight suddenly, trying to make a good first impression, but rocked nervously on his heels, anyway. “Mama, this is Dallon.” He introduced, and her eyes lit up in surprise. "Dallon, my birth giver. I berate her every day for it."

"Hi." Dallon stuck a hand out and laughed when she wiped her hands off on her jeans and took it.

"Hi! Nice to meet you, Dallon. Boyfriend?"

"Friend." Brendon corrected her, feeling heat rise to his cheeks when Dallon looked down at his shoes and smiled awkwardly, they both knew full well that she knew he wasn’t his boyfriend.

She was just trying to get to him. He knew that. She liked to push him sometimes, get under his skin. Testing his limits. He gave her a dirty look and moved around her to grab two water bottles from the fridge, nodding back toward the hall. "It's nice to meet you too." Dallon accepted the water bottle and smiled politely before he chased Brendon up the stairs.

Brendon looked back at Dallon apologetically over his shoulder, out of breath at the top of the stairs. "Sorry about that. She likes to pry. She doesn’t think to censor herself before she tries to embarrass me.”

"It's okay. My mom is the same way." He brushed it off with a wave of his hand like it was no big deal.

"I think all moms are." He headed toward the end of the hallway and nodded at Dallon to follow so he did. He examined the frames on the walls and the closed doors, all hiding something different, most of it uninteresting though Brendon never really knew what was going on in his siblings’ lives, either.

"So, you have four siblings?" Dallon asked curiously when Brendon opened his bedroom door at the end of the hall and politely let Dallon in first, having made sure he kept it clean before he extended an invitation over.

"Yeah. I'm the baby." Brendon closed the door behind them, knew the rule wouldn't apply since Dallon was just a friend.

Dallon turned to smile at him before he looked around the room, at the photos and posters on his wall, his side table and bed beside the door, sticking out into the room against the wall opposite of his dresser. At the frames on the windowsill of the window above his desk and his ottoman in the corner by the closet. His room had been an addition to the end of the hallway, his parents didn’t want to stick three boys in one room, as Matt and Mason already had to share. Brendon needed a little extra room, anyway; he had always been a little difficult.

"I like your room. It looks homespun." He twisted around to give it a once-over, admiring the mess Brendon had made of the place once upon a time. “You can see the mountains out your window.”

Brendon sat on the edge of his bed, pulling his leg to his chest and smiling when Dallon turned to look at him expectantly. “You said you live in an apartment building. You can’t see mountains out your window?”

“No, I can, but these aren’t the same mountains that I see. You see east. I see west. I love mountains.” He reached out to touch his curtain gently, Brendon watching his fingers move like they were afraid to.

“I guess I’m just desensitized to them.” Brendon shrugged, and he’d never really gotten the big deal. He grew up around them. He was sure that there would be a culture shock if he didn’t see mountains everywhere, but he never stopped to look at them. Realize that they wouldn’t be there everywhere he went forever. Dallon turned back, looking at Brendon like he was crazy, and maybe it was a little crazy of him not to admire something that someone like Dallon did.

“Oh, I’m the opposite. I love them. You ever been up north?” Silently, Brendon shook his head. “Oh, you gotta. New Hampshire has some really nice mountains. They’re different from here, you know? More trees. Less... animated.” He turned away from the window, leaving the curtain swaying gently, and sat down beside Brendon on his bed. “I’m from Utah. The mountains there are amazing. Especially during the winter, with the snow and everything. I love things that are universal but somehow different everywhere you go.”

“I never really thought of it like that.” He admitted, peeking up over his knee and then glancing in the direction of his window. Maybe it would be nice to appreciate his surroundings once in a while.

“Not many people do.” Dallon shrugged and went to nudge his arm with a suggestive smile. “I like the dinosaurs, Urie. They add quite the character.” He nodded his head toward the little dinosaur figurines from Brendon's youth that were sitting on the windowsill across from his bed, and Brendon blushed, had completely forgotten about those.

"Yeah. I, um, I had a dinosaur phase when I was a kid.” He shrugged, looking away in embarrassment. Maybe he should have done a deeper clean. “Never felt the need to get rid of them."

"Please, we all had a dinosaur phase." Dallon scoffed, trying to make him feel better. Brendon leaned back on his bed, nodding matter-of-factly, and Dallon shifted to make himself more comfortable. “So, you have four siblings. What are the pros and cons? You must go crazy with so many people in the house all the time.”

“Oh, I do. It’s... a lot. Overwhelming. It’s always loud, and you never have any privacy, you have to get up earliest for the bathroom or you'll have to take a cold shower, I've actually peed in the kitchen sink a million times before, and there's never any food." Brendon listed them off on his fingers.

Dallon smiled in amusement and quirked an eyebrow at him. "And you live above a diner." He mused.

Brendon laughed, nodding and shrugging in an it is what it is manner. "It definitely has its perks. So does having a big family, I guess. You never get lonely because you always have someone around to talk to. You get perpetual free advice, and you have friends for life, and we all have each other’s backs. That’s the best part. Even when I feel like there’s no one there for me, there is.”

"I've always wondered what it'd be like to have siblings." Dallon said quietly, more sincere now, as he looked around at the family photos in his room.

Brendon picked at his nail polish, watching him for a second, and he’d never really realized until now how close he was with his family. They were in almost every photo he had up. “Are you an only child?” He asked, realizing he had never asked about his family.

“Yeah.” Dallon’s eyes didn’t meet his but weren’t looking at the photos anymore. “Um, I was a miracle baby. The doctors told my parents they couldn’t have children, and then they had me. I was never allowed to hate myself as a preteen cause I was God’s gift.” He laughed dryly. “I never believed that. I just thought it was good luck. Really good luck. It’s just me and my mom now, though, it gets kinda lonely sometimes.”

"Well, I'll adopt you, if you really wanted to be part of a big family. We could get bunk beds. My ceiling is definitely high enough." He nodded his head upwards and Dallon smiled this smile that almost wasn’t a smile, but still it was an accomplishment; every smile was an accomplishment. Especially when he looked like he did.

"Thanks, Urie, but I'm good with my mom. If anything happens, though, I'm seriously taking you up on that." He bumped his foot against Brendon’s gently, and Brendon hadn’t realized how close he’d shifted.

"So, are you close with her?"

Dallon nodded, and a tuft of hair fell into his eyes. Brendon shifted his hand, went to move it away, but second guessed it and stopped himself before he could make a mistake. "I hadn't been for a couple of years, um. It's kind of a long story. But now things are different. Now I tell her everything. To the point where it's embarrassing how close I am with her. But with good reason, I guess."

Dallon wrung his hands in his lap, twisting the ring on and off his finger like Brendon had watched him do consistently, trying to figure out what it meant though he couldn’t. "What about your dad?"

He looked down at his lap pensively, tugging at the hem of his shirt, and misty blue eyes flickered up to Brendon's. Brendon hadn't meant to be invasive; it was just that he found himself wondering too much. They had history before each other. He wanted to know all of it before Dallon put his walls back up.

Raw truth glistened in his eyes, and Brendon's apology got lost in his throat, somehow. "He died a couple of years ago. When I turned fifteen.”

Oh. “Oh, fuck.” He breathed out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” He apologized quickly, feeling guilty because he looked different all of a sudden. Like he hadn’t gotten used to saying it out loud though it had been years, and Brendon could never understand that kind of loss, couldn’t even imagine it.

“No, it’s okay. It’s not a secret. You’re not prying.” He assured him, reaching out to place a hand on Brendon’s arm and shocking him with the unexpected touch. “Ask me anything. Seriously.”

Brendon looked down at the hand on his arm before Dallon pulled it away, going to twist the ring on his finger awkwardly as he could feel Brendon’s gaze. Brendon did that sometimes, asked too many questions and regret it afterward, made people uncomfortable trying to find answers to things he shouldn’t have been uncovering. He’d find in time that he would only grow to be more curious. “How did it happen?” He asked quietly, anything more would be too much.

“A drunk driving accident. Which was ironic considering my dad never drank. Some idiot got in a car drunk and... y’know. It’s always the innocent people who end up getting hurt.” He played with the ring, seeming more careful now, as he tried too hard to avoid Brendon’s sympathetic eyes. “This was his wedding ring. That’s why it’s a sentimental thing. Uh. My mom was a mess when he died. She didn’t know what to do. I had to kind of be strong for her, you know? I was the only one she had after that. I told her I’d always wear this so she could find a little bit of him in me. I know it’s kind of dorky.”

"No, that’s not dorky at all." Brendon assured him softly. Dallon looked up at him just then, like he couldn’t believe that, and they exchanged quiet smiles. "I've never lost anyone close to me.” He admitted as a second thought. “Or— I assume you were close.”

"You're lucky. And yeah, uh. We were. Really close.” He nodded absently, and against his better judgment Brendon reached out to set a hand on his arm. He didn’t know what to say, he’d never had to console anybody before, but Dallon’s arm was solid under his hand, not hesitant, not unsteady. He just needed someone to listen. Brendon was listening. “You never know what it’s gonna feel like until it happens. I replay all of it in my head a million times a day. But I try to see the silver lining in everything, and I guess in this it’s that I know now that you never know how much time you have so you have to appreciate everything. It’s hard to see the positive side of it all, but... it helps, sometimes.”

“You’ve gotta be really fucked up to see the positive side of something like that.” Brendon figured, not meaning anything by it, and Dallon smiled at him. “No, I get it. Something like that must have affected you a lot."

"It did. But you live and you learn. You can't let these things corrode your mind. You won't get anything done." He shrugged in a what can you do kind of way and gestured to his bag, easily changing the subject. "Speaking of getting things done, we should probably get to work."

"I'm sorry.” Brendon apologized, unused to this. “I didn't mean to like, make you uncomfortable.”

Dallon shook his head as he pulled his backpack onto the bed and set it to the side like it was nothing. "No, I'm not uncomfortable. Trust me." Dallon turned to rest a hand on Brendon's arm again, and big brown eyes flickered up to warm blue ones at the unexpected contact. The touches had to mean something. "I like talking about it sometimes. It makes me feel a little better. Keeps him in my thoughts, you know?"

Brendon shrugged earnestly, but Dallon's hand was still sitting on his forearm, fingers steady and wrapped around the fabric of his hoodie gentle enough so that Brendon could barely feel the press of his fingertips against him. "That's me, the guy people talk to to feel good."

Dallon let out a quiet laugh, a sincere laugh, and Brendon couldn't bite back his little smile when he tilted his head away. There were things he knew and things he didn't, but Dallon was smiling and Brendon decided that he was gonna take baby steps. Baby steps, because he had more to know. And Dallon had some questions reserved for him too. "Thanks for letting me talk about it.”

"No, no problem. I'm here to listen." Brendon offered another fond look, prayed it translated as the truth, and Dallon gave him a grateful smile before he returned to unzipping his bag and pulling out a binder. Brendon could feel Dallon's touch ghosting on his arm when he retracted his hand, lingering like a phantom of somebody he knew would stay.

Dallon held the binder up with a forced grin and tapped the plastic with his index fingernail. "Now let's get to work, Urie.”

Brendon half-assed his homework but at some point he'd reached the final problem, and just as quickly as he'd scribbled down the answer, he jumped up and pushed his things back into his bag ceremoniously. Dallon laughed, did the same, and Brendon had practically dragged him down to the kitchen. His mother was gone, no longer around to embarrass him more than she had, so Dallon slid into a seat at the table and Brendon moved around the kitchen, gathering a bowl from the cupboard and bags of chips to fill it.

Fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie, Dallon asked, "D'you do anything fun for Halloween?"

Brendon shook his head absently, not minding like he used to since he hadn’t actually gone trick or treating in years. "Nah. I'm working, though, and a lot of people like to come to the diner on Halloween. We have deals for anyone dressed in costume. My parents are probably downstairs decorating right now. We kind of go all out. What about you? Any fun plans?"

"Nah. Josh is going on a date with Tyler and Ryan's gonna be with his girlfriend, so I'm probably just gonna hang out alone with my mother like a loser. She seems to like me more than my friends do, anyway. Not that I didn’t have a hand in that.”

“I doubt that’s true. And you know, I only have one friend. I think I take the cake for being the loser here." Brendon retorted from the counter, where he was pulling open a bag of sour cream and onion chips.

"Two friends," Dallon chimed. Brendon turned to look at him and Dallon grinned, pointing a thumb toward himself. And oh, Brendon must had forgotten that Dallon actually considered him a friend. Brendon grinned back, couldn't help it, so Dallon added, "maybe I'll come by the diner."

"In costume, hopefully." Brendon turned to give him a hopeful look but Dallon just let out a laugh, an obvious no. Brendon stuck out his bottom lip in a pout but Dallon shook his head, so Brendon turned back to tend to the chips. It was a long shot, anyway.

"Probably not. But maybe, for you." He was still smiling when Brendon looked at him again, a little in shock at the flirty insinuation. Trying to hide his blush, he carried the bowl of chips to the table and went back to the fridge to get the fruit punch out, so Dallon leaned back in his chair and added, "Hey, I have a question. What's up with the nail polish?"

Brendon looked down at the chipped black nail polish on his fingers. He didn't pay any mind to it typically, just let his sisters fix it whenever they wanted to, but he realized how it made him stand out. He probably thought he was weird. Everyone else did. "Oh, um, my sisters have been using me as a mannequin since I was a baby. I have no say." He held up the hand sheepishly, but Dallon smiled, a real smile, not a pity smile.

"I like it. Self-expression. I'm a big fan of that kind of stuff."

Brendon looked up at him with flushed cheeks, not expecting it but not not expecting it. Dallon was kind. Brendon had known that. He just wasn’t sure what kind of kind he was. And he made Brendon feel okay about being different for a change. "Yeah?" He asked hopefully, and Dallon nodded, grinning like a child. "Well, if you really wanna fight gender roles then you should paint your nails. At least, that's what my sisters say." He twisted open the cap and poured the fruit punch into each glass carefully. "They're big on that stuff, fighting against the man. They use me to help them."

Dallon let out a quiet laugh and reached out to pluck a chip from the bowl, not seeming opposed to the idea. "Your siblings seem nice. And they probably are, if they're anything like you."

Brendon's heart jumped in his chest, no one had ever called him nice before. He hadn't realized he was being nice. He was just too scared not to be. "First of all, I'm not all that nice. And you're the only person who's ever said that to me." He admitted, but caught his look of surprised and quickly added, "And yeah, they're all okay. Kara is the oldest, she's twenty-two. Kyla and Matt are seniors, Mason is a freshman in college. I'm really close with my sisters. My brothers too, but mostly my sisters."

"I wish I had sisters." Dallon watched Brendon carry the two glasses of fruit punch that he'd poured and set them down on the table. "Or brothers. Anything would do."

Brendon took a seat in the chair he'd pulled out. "I love them, but it's crazy around here. Literally all the time. You might want like, half a sibling. Not four of them."

He hummed as Brendon pulled his knees to his chest and rested his heels on the edge of the chair. "So, a half sibling."

"No. Half a body. Like, maybe just the legs."

Dallon laughed, grabbing a handful of chips and cupping them close so not to make a mess. "That's fair."

Brendon giggled and took a sip of his fruit punch, watching Dallon watch him and suddenly feeling too in the spotlight. "Seriously, having a big family is great, but it's hard sometimes. Not like I have any only child experience to compare it to.” He added to break a short silence.

"I believe it. But it seems nice. Having a full house all the time. It feels empty at home sometimes." He picked up his glass and swirled it around before he took a sip, not catching Brendon’s involuntary look of sympathy. “I mean, I love my mom but she’s my only family so sometimes it gets weird. No one is ever around. Except her, of course, and occasionally friends. But mostly it’s just the two of us. I’m not complaining, though, I’m glad that she’s not dating. Thank God for that.”

Brendon let one of his legs slip off the chair and picked out another chip from the bowl. "You don't want her to date?"

Dallon shook his head, and Brendon tossed a chip in his mouth absently. "No. Definitely not. That would be the worst possible thing for her to do."

He quirked an eyebrow curiously. "Why's that?"

Dallon swallowed, a disgusted look on his face, and Brendon fleetingly wondered what he'd seen. "Imagine a bunch of random guys coming in and out of your house nightly."

Brendon scrunched up his nose. It grossed him out to see his parents kiss; he couldn't picture his mom fraternizing with faceless men and running into them in the middle of the night on his way to the bathroom or in the morning when he was just trying to get some cereal. "Yeah. Ew. No."

"Exactly." Dallon picked up his glass again, swirling it aimlessly like it were a habit. "I know she can't stay single forever. I would just like for her to put it off as long as she possibly can. Preferably until I’m gone so I won’t have to witness it.”

“That’s reasonable.”

“Dude, I know.” Dallon laughed, raising his glass, and Brendon tapped his own against it, not bothering to bite back his smile; he’d never realized how well they would get along.

Brendon woke up the next morning later than he’d meant to, as he wanted to help decorate the diner for the Halloween rush. He headed downstairs groggily, maybe he should have gone to bed earlier, to help hang up fake spiderwebs before they had to open. He dragged his feet as he headed down the stairs, rubbing at one eye under his glasses, and made a noise of acknowledgment when his family turned to greet him.

“It lives!” Brendon’s mother laughed, extending an arm to pat him on the shoulder. “Happy Halloween, baby.”

“Yeah, happy Halloween.” He greeted back, too tired to be enthusiastic, as Halloween was never as big a deal as it had been once when he was a kid. Back before he was bad. And then asking strangers for candy got too intimidating and so did all the costumes, and now he just preferred to avoid going out just in case.

He leaned against the counter to watch his brother hang plastic skeleton bones in between the windows. Halloween had always been fun. In some childlike excitement kind of way, anyway. Getting candy and stashing it where no siblings could find it, getting to dress up and pretend to be anybody but yourself. Brendon had been used to trying to avoid that every day so he never knew what he should be.

"Where're Mason and Kara?" He watched his mother pass by, carrying an orange bowl with a ceramic skeleton hand sticking out of it.

She set the bowl down on the counter. "Out getting candy for the kids."

"Yeah, we don't have kids."

She rolled her eyes and he giggled, at least he thought he was funny. "The kids that come by the diner, smartass. Now come on, we need all the help we can get. We only have a couple of hours, and somebody slept in too late.”

Brendon was about to protest when his dad called, “Here, Bren, come help. Cup your hands.” Brendon turned and did as he was told, watching as he promptly dropped a handful of spiders into his hands. Brendon gasped and dropped them all onto the floor as he realized, wiping his hands on his pants in disgust, and his father burst out laughing despite the fact that it was not fucking funny. “They’re fake spiders!” He gasped through a laugh.

“How am I supposed to know that?!” He yelled, they always tried to prank him on Halloween because Brendon was so gullible, or naive, as they all called him.

He stepped over the pile of imposter spiders and headed toward a table to sit in resentment just as the bell above the door chimed, and Tyler raised his hand in a wave, wearing a floral sleeved jacket and a pair of red rimmed glasses. “Hi, family. What’s new?” He greeted, not bothering to ask if it was okay that he enter despite the closed sign.

"Brendon cried over fake spiders." Matt called from where he was attaching a giant tarantula to the wall behind the coffee maker, and Brendon turned away. He really just hated spiders in any regard anyway.

"I didn't cry!" He argued, but his dad rolled his eyes and bent down to pick up the plastic spiders, they must had gone shopping for new decorations when he was out. Tyler snorted and moved over to sit on one of the tables like he always did when nobody was around, making himself at home. He was the only person Brendon knew that his mother permitted to do that. "You look ridiculous, Ty, what are you supposed to be?"

“You.” Tyler insisted, and his family turned to look at him and laughed in appreciation as Tyler took off the glasses and jacket and thrusted them toward Brendon. “You left these at my house.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He tied the jacket around his waist and pocketed his glasses before he sat beside him on the table, deciding that he didn’t really want to help decorate when every decoration scared him. “What are you doing here?”

“Got lonely. Wanted lunch." He looked up at Brendon's dad and batted his eyelashes. He gave Tyler a look, they didn’t open until four, but for friends they always made an exception. With a sigh he headed to the kitchen and Tyler clapped happily, making Brendon smile; he knew he’d get something out of the deal too.

“So, update me. You’re going out with Josh tonight?” Brendon asked, directing his attention toward him as everyone returned to hanging decorations. Tyler nodded giddily, always smiling at the sound of his name, and Brendon knew there were questions to ask that would help him too, but he never knew quite what they were. “What are you guys gonna do?”

“We’re gonna go to the cemetery and walk around and talk. I have a whole plan. Including making out. I want to get him to kiss me by the end of the month. Then he’ll ask me to be his boyfriend, and our second date will be something more conventional. A movie or something. And don’t ask why a cemetery. I think it’s perfect for Halloween. And it’s like, the perfect place for a first date. Nice and private for talking and getting to know each other.”

“In front of a bunch of dead people? And today is literally the end of the month.” He pointed out as a second thought, he didn’t understand how he could devote so much time to planning this when he hardly did his homework.

“Exactly! I told you, I have a plan. It’s a good one, too.” He poked at Brendon’s stomach, and Brendon figured that he wouldn’t have a choice but to listen.

Once Tyler was gone Brendon's sisters dragged him upstairs so they could do his nails for the day. He took a seat on Kyla's bedroom floor and let the girls choose designs to paint, leaving a ghost on his thumb, a spiderweb on his ring finger, tradition for the holidays since he was a baby. It was as much of a celebration as he could manage on busy days with double the dinner rush.

The diner was buzzing with activity by the time it opened at four. Brendon was busy handing out candy to all the kids when the door chimed, and he glanced up just quick enough to see Dallon with a bag slung over his shoulder, wearing all black and a little rhinestone cat ear headband. His eyes lit up when he caught Brendon's gaze, and Brendon could feel himself smile.

"I, uh, found them with my mom's Halloween stuff." Dallon gestured to the headband when Brendon approached him, grinning stupidly because he couldn't help it. He let out a laugh and extended an arm, coaxing a smiling Dallon into a hug.

"You look adorable." He said, the words saying themselves before Brendon could process them, and maybe it was too forward, or maybe it wasn't okay, and maybe the way Dallon smiled at him made him think that that didn't matter.

Dallon pulled away, tugging fondly on Brendon's long sleeve shirt with a bone print on it. "As do you. Skeleton, huh?"

Brendon grinned, cheeks heating up, and looked down at his body. Dallon just kind of called him adorable. Kind of. "Yeah. Some sort of reflection on how what's on the inside matters, or something. I don't know. It's my go to costume."

"Nice. My go to costume is the black nose ring because, y'know, spooky." Dallon pointed toward the little black hoop on his nose with a smile before he took a seat at an empty booth and offered a convincing look, though maybe Brendon was biased. "You wanna take a break and hang out?"

"Yeah, lemme ask my mom." Brendon disappeared behind the counter, and only managed to get out a few words before she told him to take his break, always having let him do what he wanted so long as he was open about his feelings. A minute later he slid into the booth across from Dallon with two glasses of soda, smiling like an idiot.

As Brendon pushed a glass toward him, Dallon reached out for his hand. Shocked, Brendon let him. "This is awesome." He held up his hand, gesturing to his nails.

"Oh, thank you. My sisters did it. They like to hype me up for the holidays." He laughed a little bit and Dallon did too, eyes lit up with admiration.

"I love it. Do you ever do them yourself?"

Brendon pulled a knee up and wrapped his arms around it, blushing at the attention as he took his hand back, not even realizing that Dallon held it a second too long. "Never designs. Just solid colors. I'm not good enough for that. Not yet, anyway."

"Well, maybe one day you can paint mine, if you wanna." Dallon offered a genial smile and took a sip of the Dr. Pepper that Brendon had given him. It wasn't mocking like the responses he got from random guys at school, but it was sweet. Genuine. Like he wasn't joking. Like he wasn't just here to be like the rest of them.

"Yeah, sure. That'd be cool." He looked down at his lap and grinned when he knew Dallon wasn't looking. He had no idea what it meant but he didn't even have to.

Dallon stayed until the sun began to set and everybody fled to get their trick or treating started. But he hugged him goodbye as he got up to leave too, had made plans and needed to go, and Brendon hugged him back, didn't let go right away, prayed he could feel his gratitude because not a lot of people showed up just to make Brendon smile. He leaned against the door as Dallon left, waving goodbye until he had disappeared down the street. Always seeming to be the one that was there when no one else was.

Brendon carried his box of dirty dishes to the counter as the diner had vacated completely, leaving a mess of candy wrappers and empty bowls in the fading light. He slid into a seat at the counter, giving his father a forced smile as he wiped down the counter. "Daddy, I have a question." He said calculatedly, catching his attention.

The evening sun leaked in through the windows, casting an ethereal glow on the diner, and that was when Brendon loved it the most. It felt empty, liminal, but held so much more meaning than when it was bustling with people. Vacant. Alone. Soft. Just like him.

Wordlessly Brendon's dad poured him a glass of soda, opened a straw, let it sink into the liquid. Brendon thanked him, accepted it with a sigh, though neither mentioned how much sugar Brendon had had all day. "How'd you know you were in love with mama? It was high school, right?" He asked, biting at the straw like a habit.

"It was." He poured himself a cup of coffee in one of the white ceramic mugs that he'd retrieved from the shelf behind him. He drank coffee so much that the family had an inside joke that he had coffee running through his bloodstream. Brendon had always wondered how he could drink that much coffee and not be sick of it. He supposed it was that love, that infatuation, likewise of a relationship except less deep. But growing comfortable with something. Learning to not be able to live without it. “I saw her on the first day of senior year. She was new here and didn’t know anybody yet. But I sat with her, pursued her all year because I couldn’t fathom how nobody was making friends with such a wonderful girl. She finally agreed to go on a date with me and from there, it’s history. One day I'll tell you the whole story. Why do you ask? Is this about the kid you like?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, moving his straw around inside his drink. His family always seemed to read him too well. “We started talking, like, regularly. As friends. And I don’t know that much about him but I want to, and I’m trying to give him hints that I like him but I don’t know how. Everyone thinks I should just go for it but now that we’re friends, I don’t wanna risk anything. It could be really bad if I’m just getting the wrong message and he doesn’t actually like me.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to feel it out. Be his friend for a minute. Try and read the signals. If he likes you eventually everything will happen the way you want it to. Besides, being friends first is always better than starting a relationship right off the bat. That way it’s not as awkward because you know each other. And if you’re lucky, he makes the first move so you don’t have to.” He winked and Brendon tried to smile, had so many questions but didn’t even know how to ask. He’d never been in a relationship before. He’d never even liked anyone before. He had no idea what to do. And he supposed no one else did either, with his sexuality and his fears and how dichotomous to his family he had grown up being. He didn’t know what to ask because nothing he could ask would get an answer. “Are you coming up?”

"I'm gonna stay down here for a little while. I'll lock up." Brendon stood up from the counter and made his way back to the corner booth, still playing with the straw of his drink.

"Alright, then. See ya, buddy." His dad didn't question him, just went upstairs and left Brendon in the quiet diner with nothing but the setting sun. He slid into the blue vinyl seat Dallon sat in each time, setting his glass down in front of him, and looked up at the pattern of the white gold sky. Fading slowly to black as children made their rounds, running up steps and asking for treats, not tricks, hoping they’d get something good.

But even as he watched the smiling faces of the kids of his neighborhood and the looks their parents gave them when they presented their handfuls of fun size bars of candy, all Brendon could think about was the way Dallon's eyes lit up when he saw him. Maybe something was there. Maybe something could be there.


	5. Chapter 4: Dream Catcher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No I do not actually think all artists are sad it is just a storyline-- and yes, Dallon has a nose ring in this, lest we forget

Halloween passed and things were back to normal, the decorations put away with the costumes and everybody baring their everyday selves. It had always been Brendon’s favorite, the tradition, the fun his family had, seeing kids dressed in costume at the diner. And this year, seeing Dallon too, wearing a makeshift costume and smiling that smile. Making an effort.

Returning to school on Monday, Brendon began to sit with Dallon in math class, an unspoken yet newly established agreement. They didn’t discuss it, Brendon just took the seat beside him, uneasily searching his face for any trace of discomfort. But there was none, just a smile, and so Brendon had stayed.

Tyler told Brendon about his new relationship in the mornings and Brendon turned to watch Dallon and his friends at their usual spot, nodding his head in a wave because somewhere along the line they had passed inconspicuous staring. For the rest of the week he watched his best friend flirt in physics, wondered where he had learned to do that, asked Dallon what he thought of it, tried to bridge the gap between acquaintances and real friends.

Brendon had been wiping down the counter with sleep still in his eyes that Saturday morning, his mind fuzzier than his vision without his glasses. His parents always gave him the morning shift, today with Kyla, as his mother went grocery shopping early and he didn't work long during the week. He only wished he could fix his sleep schedule well enough so that he wasn't falling asleep standing up.

His siblings were asleep upstairs and his father was cooking in the back alone like always. The diner was near vacant save for a group of friends in a corner booth and two girls on the opposite side of the diner. Kyla was taking orders while Brendon wiped the counter free of any stickiness or excess crumbs, refilled the saltshakers in front of him, and organized the packets of sugar by color and brand. It wasn't busy yet, only seven thirty in the morning. He had to keep himself occupied somehow.

The bell above the door chimed when Brendon was bent down gathering new menus to place on the counter before they started to get busy. He stood up with a handful of menus, greeted by Dallon sitting at the counter, smiling a hello. His eyes were mistier somehow, like he hadn't been fully awakened yet; it was early, it was so early, but Dallon was there, anyway.

"Hey." Brendon placed the menus down in front of himself with a smile that only seemed to show itself in Dallon's presence these days. "Um. What are you doing here so early?"

"Well," Dallon ran a hand through his angel wing soft brown hair, messed up by the wind, and involuntarily Brendon bit his lip. "I need coffee. And it was on the way.”

"You know there's a Starbucks in like, the most central area of the city." Brendon quirked an eyebrow fondly at him, challenging him. Things hadn’t been making sense lately.

Dallon smiled that one stupid lopsided smile, and even running on less than eight hours of sleep and looking like he was about to fall asleep against the counter did he make Brendon's heart ache. "A basic, overpriced, chain business? Not my thing."

Dallon's smile was contagious, and Brendon let out a laugh, shrugging in a what can you do manner. "Okay, that's fair. You, uh, you want a menu?" Brendon pushed about seven menus toward Dallon and Dallon laughed, shaking his head. Brendon smiled down at himself, proud he'd made him laugh, his new favorite accomplishment.

"Just coffee is fine. Please." Dallon requested, so Brendon slipped back into his diner boy mindset. Dallon was just a customer, not a boy he had a stupid crush on. Just a crushtomer. Fuck.

"Yes, sir. Here or to go?" Brendon grabbed the coffee pot from its respective spot on the back counter, clutching it tight. The last thing he wanted was to spill coffee all over himself in front of Dallon. He’d be lying if he said it hadn't happened in front of a full diner once or twice before. Or four times. Four times, he was bad at his job, and there was a reason he was labeled in a Yelp review or two.

"Oh, to go. I can't stay."

Brendon grabbed a to-go cup from next to the coffee pot's place and looked back at him over his shoulder, where Dallon was pushing his hair out of his face. "Work?" He asked, pouring the coffee and sliding it toward Dallon.

Dallon reached out for the bowl of cream with a half smile. "No, volunteering." He picked out a couple of packets of sugar and tore the tops off all at once. "Just something I do once every couple of weeks. Just when they need me."

"Oh, is that for college?" Brendon took the empty packets to throw away for him, he may have had a bad habit of asking too many questions, but Dallon shook his head, dusting off the counter.

"Nah. Just to help out. It's not that big of a deal, it's not like I'm super important, but hey. Sometimes we all need to help out to find our purpose in the world, or something cliché like that. I don't know." He grabbed a coffee stirrer and moved it around inside the hot liquid slowly to mix the sugar while Brendon watched, zoning out at the back and forth motions.

"Oh. That's cool." Brendon leaned against the counter and Dallon smiled, amused.

"Yeah," Dallon poured a single cup of cream into his coffee and big brown eyes watched the steam rise before they met blue ones again, like they'd been caught. "I like it."

"What do you do?" Brendon asked casually as he poured himself some coffee into one of the ceramic mugs that he'd been cleaning out earlier and took a sip, not bothering to add cream or sugar. The hot liquid burned the roof of his mouth and his tongue but it was satisfying, in a way.

"Help with kids, do some activities, it depends on the day and who else is there. I actually took a bunch of them trick or treating last weekend when their parents were working. Other than that I don't do much, but it's still cool." Dallon put the lid that Brendon handed him onto the cup before he cast a reluctant glance up at the clock. "I have to go, but I'll see you later?"

"Yeah, of course." Brendon nodded quickly, he looked forward to it, so Dallon pulled a few dollars out of his pocket and placed them on the counter, sliding them toward him.

"Keep the change." Dallon slid off the stool with his coffee cup in hand. "Thanks, Urie."

"Sure thing." Brendon nodded and Dallon nodded back, an I'm-sorry-you-have-to-be-up-this-early-too kind of nod in solidarity. He raised his cup in commendation before he took a sip, the liquid almost sloshing out of the cover, and waved before he disappeared. Brendon watched him go, folding his arms, wondering if maybe working Saturday morning was worth it when gorgeous boys showed up to smile at him. Dallon crossed the street, not bothering to look both ways, and only when he was out of sight did Brendon look down at the counter and grin like an idiot.

He volunteered with children too; Brendon swore he was perfect.

"Brendon." Kyla snapped her fingers in his face, it hadn't been the first time she'd said his name, and he perked up suddenly, turning to catch her gaze. He raised an eyebrow, curious, as she slid the order she'd just taken to their dad over the counter that separated the kitchen and diner. "Was that him?"

"Yeah." Brendon sighed again and shifted his weight uncomfortably; this wasn't how things always had been. This was new territory; uncharted territory. He promised himself he wouldn't go where he wasn't familiar. Dallon's attention was so unfamiliar.

She wrapped an arm around him and he tilted his head to rest it on her shoulder, staring aimlessly after the boy long after he was gone. "He's cute." She observed.

He thumbed his bottom lip absentmindedly. "I know."

"At least you guys are friends." She rubbed Brendon's arm and he shrugged; he wasn't so sure about that one just yet. She always looked on the bright side but that meant getting his hopes up, and getting his hopes up meant being let down. She added as an afterthought, "Brendon, he'd be crazy not to like you."

"I don't even know if he likes guys, Ky. And even if he did, he wouldn't like me."

She shoved him. "Shut up, yes he would."

"I doubt it. He's like, mysterious and beautiful and cool and smart and I'm me."

"Stop self-deprecating, Brendon. That gets you nowhere. And you're a Urie. You're beautiful too." She pushed at his shoulder playfully and he bristled away from the touch, reluctant and suddenly tired again. She frowned, hadn't meant to freak him out, but they all knew how to handle him. Carefully, quietly. "Brendon." She added, and he looked at her again, like a baby deer, eyes huge and hesitant. "You're smart too. And you're adorable, and he likes you. You know he does. So stop beating yourself up and go for it. Ask him out. You've got nothing to lose."

He had more to lose than she thought. "Or I can continue being his friend and see where that goes." He said a little too hastily, and he knew she was trying to help, everyone was always trying to help, but sometimes he just didn't want help.

"Alright, alright. I tried." She put her hands up in defeat and went to take a table's order, leaving him to dwell on his own. That was how he did everything, anyway. Alone. Why would it be any different now?

That night as Brendon washed his face and stared at himself in the mirror, all he could think about was how Dallon went to the diner that morning for a cup of coffee that he could have gone anywhere for, including one of the ten places on the street of the Historic District alone.

He was seeking Brendon out.

And that could be fatal, but maybe Brendon didn't care.

In history, he played virtual mini golf aimlessly until Ryan came in, telling Dallon some story about his weekend. Brendon listened noncommittally as he sent the message to Tyler and awaited his reply, Tyler always won mini golf anyway, staring at his phone until a pair of hands landed on his desk.

He glanced up, smiling shyly when Dallon grinned at him. "Hi."

"Hey, Urie. Would you wanna come over after school? You know, you show me yours, I'll show you mine. Houses, that is." His smile was more or less a smirk and Brendon blushed, wanting to look away though he couldn't. A month ago he wouldn't have expected to even be on a first name basis with Dallon, or maybe a last name basis, Dallon loved his last name, and now he was turned around in his seat, smiling at him and inviting him over to his house, where he lived, his home, his space.

His face was burning red and Dallon was staring hopefully. Half smiling, he said, "I don't think that's what that phrase means."

Dallon laughed a little. "I'm thinking outside the box! Will you?"

He was thinking outside the box. That was what threw Brendon off in the first place.

Without even taking a moment to consider it Brendon nodded, he couldn't say no. Dallon smiled, like he was relieved, like it meant more than it did. Did it? "Sure. Meet me out front after school."

A stupid pit of anxiety made a home in Brendon's stomach as Dallon turned away. He had no real reason to be nervous, knew it didn’t mean anything, but being alone with him in Dallon’s house unsupervised made him nervous. Being alone led to a lot of things he wasn’t ready to think about. His being nervous led to him saying a lot of stupid things.

In the hallway after history Tyler gravitated toward his side, going to link their arms together as they headed toward physics. Usually Brendon would roll his eyes at his obvious enthusiasm, tell him it was too early, but he was in a panic, overthinking, wondering why Dallon would even bother.

"So, Dallon asked me to go to his house today and I know that's not a big deal because he's been to mine and everything and it doesn't mean anything because we're totally just friends but I feel like this is some big step in our friendship and I don't know what to do or how to act." He breathed out all in one go, his voice hushed.

Tyler turned to give him an incredulous look. "How does such a tiny body hold so much oxygen?"

Brendon furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, not quite getting that he was referencing the fact that Brendon could probably give an hour long speech in a single breath. "Huh?"

Tyler sighed at his obliviousness. "Look, baby Urie. You shouldn't stress out every time you talk to Dallon, you do that too much and you'll give yourself a heart attack. With all the junk food you eat, that's a real possibility." He poked him in the stomach, and Brendon folded his arms over his chest. "Just appreciate the fact that he wants to hang out with you. He’s making an effort. Besides, there's no point in worrying about it. You guys are already friends."

"But what if something weird happens?" He asked, picking at the skin around his nails. Tyler quirked an eyebrow, and Brendon huffed, "Ty. Come on. Humor me. You're my therapist."

Tyler sighed overdramatically and threw his head back. "Okay. Nothing will happen, that's gonna be up to you and Dallon, but calm the fuck down. You're not dating. You’ve been friends for five minutes. And besides, Brendon, you’re weird. You do and say weird things all the time. It won’t be that surprising if you do."

"It's just that we're suddenly hanging out like, every chance we get, and I don't know what it means." He looked down at their shoes stepping back, forth, back, forth, until he grew tired and sighed too, confused. "I want it to mean something."

Tyler reached out to rub his arm, didn't know what to say. Brendon was a specific case with a caution label strung across his chest. "And I'm sure that eventually, it will. Stop stressing out about everything so much. You take everything so seriously. Go with the flow.”

Brendon looked up at him, not really the going with the flow type, and slipped into the classroom before him.

Brendon tried to take that to heart as he waited until the final bell rang. Dallon was already waiting for Brendon with his arms folded over his chest and a lazy half smile on his face, expecting him but still smiling when he emerged from the school. Brendon started down the stairs but Dallon grabbed his arm to get his attention, pulling him close and starting to follow. "How was your day?" Dallon asked conversationally, leading him off campus and toward the parking lot.

"Fine, how was yours?" Brendon asked, and Dallon shrugged, said it was good, said it was better, now. Brendon blushed down at his sneakers walking beside Dallon's, across the patch of grass and the concrete, and Dallon reached into the little pocket in his backpack to pull out a pair of keys. Brendon looked up at him in shock. "You have a car?!"

Dallon just smiled and gestured toward it with the keys hanging off one of his fingers, a small white car with a bumper sticker of the Vegas sign on it. "Yeah. I'm not spoiled or anything, I swear, an old friend of my mom's was moving and couldn't take his car so he gave it to us. I couldn't afford to get my own car. I can barely afford gas."

Brendon glanced fondly at him when he opened the passenger seat door for him. "Don't worry. You don't have to prove yourself to me. You don't have to impress me." He put a hand to his chest and smiled teasingly.

He cast a mutual smile down at Brendon as the boy thanked him and slid into the passenger seat, inhaling silently and smiling as he dropped his backpack on the floor in front of him. "Don't worry, that's not my intention. If I wanted to impress you I would tell you I bought this with my own money and that it was a super cool sports car masquerading as this little thing but I'm not cool and anyway, I don't even have a job." He climbed into the driver's seat and pulled the door shut. "Make yourself at home." He gestured around and pulled his seatbelt on.

Dallon's car was clean so Brendon buckled his seatbelt carefully, trying not to make a scene. "So, you've been holding out on me. Making us walk in the rain and whatever." He teased with a little raise of his eyebrows, pulling the strap behind his back.

Dallon smiled at the accusation and twisted the key in the ignition. "Actually, no. The ol' girl was in the shop. Busted taillight." He pat the dashboard lovingly. "But she's alright now, promise. And I'm not a bad driver. Someone was parallel parking behind me and it went awry."

"Huh. She looks brand new to me," Brendon observed.

"She is brand new to you, technically." He figured, and pulled out of his parking spot before Brendon could say another word.

The interior of the car was neat and it smelled like him. There was a polaroid photo stuck to the dash, one of Dallon, Josh, and Ryan, all smiling at the camera with squinted eyes, and Brendon smiled back at it, thinking about how he stood with his friends in the morning and laughed, exchanged comical looks with Ryan in history and made dumb comments when he thought people were out of earshot.

Dallon pulled into a garage underneath a building up the parkway, as Brendon mapped the way when they weren’t making small talk. He waited patiently, tapping his hands against his thighs nervously while Dallon parked the car and let himself out without a word, assuming that Brendon would know to follow him.

Quietly, they stepped into a small elevator together and Dallon pressed the button for the eighth floor. Brendon rocked back and forth on his heels awkwardly and neither said a word, in each other’s space, and he held his breath until the doors parted eight floors up.

Dallon led Brendon down a hallway lined with autumnal decorations and as they reached the last door on the left, he thumbed through his keys, feeling Brendon’s eyes on him when he unlocked the door and let him in first. "My mom is at work." He closed the door behind them while Brendon explored the living room, photographs and paintings on the walls, a glass door that led to a balcony and a couch against the wall. It was... homey. Lived in. So obviously Dallon’s.

"I like it." Brendon turned to look at him as he kicked his sneakers off at the door. "It's cozy."

He looked back at Brendon with a half smile. "Cozy meaning small."

"Small isn't a bad thing," Brendon added when Dallon waved him over. He took his shoes off quickly and followed him down a short hallway, and it felt so surreal to be in Dallon’s house. Alone with him. It was freshman and sophomore year Brendon's dream.

He pushed his bedroom door open and Brendon shook his inexplicable anxiety out through his hands, stepping into his space once more. A different space, a more defined space. Nervous to be crossing some sort of invisible line that was left unspoken between the two. But it lingered, much like Brendon in the doorway.

He gave the room a once-over and stopped suddenly, an effervescent feeling bubbling in his stomach. Dallon didn't notice that Brendon had stopped in the doorway, eyes wide, as he set his backpack down by the door.

"I'm sorry about the mess. I kind of only ever have Ryan and Josh here, and they're used to it. Never get around to cleaning it much." He explained apologetically while Brendon looked around the room in silent wonderment.

The walls were a plain white, but they were anything but pristine. It looked reminiscent of a museum or an art classroom or a child’s parent’s refrigerator, decorated from top to bottom with color. A desk covered in art supplies across from a full bed sticking out from the left wall, a record player on top of a dresser and a stack of books on the floor. Plants on the windowsill, each pot painted uniquely. Between the window and the wall was a collage of photos, so many that it was overwhelming.

The walls were covered in canvases, frames, posters, photographs, sketches, postcards, polaroids. It was chaotic, busy, the whole room was a burst of color, so contradictory to the soft-spoken boy he was getting to know. A mess but in the best way. Brendon was quiet for a moment while he took it all in.

Finally, he realized: You're an artist."

Dallon looked up at him from where he was standing by his bed, adjusting his sweater sleeves. "I am." He agreed, not having realized he hadn’t known.

"You didn't mention it." Brendon gave the entire room a once-over again, and for some reason— for the first time in his life— disorganization didn’t bother him at all. "I love your room.”

Dallon smiled, that room was his pride and joy, how he'd twisted it and made it his own. Distinct, unique. Just like him. "Oh, thank you. I didn't really mean for it to look this way. Just kinda..." He gestured around with his hands, "happened."

"No, it looks amazing. I really like it." He turned to face Dallon, still standing at the end of his bed, watching Brendon take it all in. Brendon's eyes wandered up and down for a second and he laughed, he didn’t know how he hadn’t realized it before.

Dallon put his hands on his hips when he saw the look on Brendon's face, biting back a laugh. "What?"

"You look like an artist."

Dallon’s eyebrows furrowed and he crossed his arms accusingly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Brendon gestured to him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, the maroon cardigan, skinny jeans, his nose ring. Dallon put his hands on his hips, and Brendon burst out laughing. "Look at you!"

"Okay, enough." Dallon grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, but there was no substance behind it. Brendon caught it and threw it back, grinning because he meant no harm. He just thought it was funny, was all.

"It's not a bad thing. Art is cool. This is all really cool, Dallon." He walked over to the desk and picked up a stray sketchbook idly. "D'you mind?"

"Go for it." Dallon nodded his head in consent so Brendon flipped open the sketchbook to the first page, thumbing the textured mixed media material of the paper and examining lines of charcoal.

His sketches were good; full of subjects as basic as houses and yards and then more complex things like statues at a museum or intricately drawn hands, and some of people every few pages or so. Toward the end of the book, though, when there were only about a dozen pages left, he stopped at one particular sketch. It was him. It was a drawing of him.

When Dallon noticed what he was looking at he jumped up from his bed suddenly to snatch the book from Brendon's hands. His face was red in embarrassment, but Brendon’s blood had beat him to it. "Dallon!"

He gave up and crossed his arms, bristling with embarrassment. "Okay. I draw what's around me. I wasn't always taking notes, you know."

Brendon's heart was beating so fast he was sure he was on the verge of cardiac arrest. "You drew me.” He said quietly, voice tender.

"Don't think of it in a weird way," Dallon added when Brendon turned around to face him with a half smile, half smirk, having something to hold over him. "I like drawing people, especially when I'm getting to know my subject."

"That's so cute." Brendon teased, waving the sketchbook around in Dallon's face.

"Hey, if you want proof, I've got a whole sketchbook with drawings of my friends over there." He gestured to the desk and took the book out of Brendon's hands, snapping it shut when Brendon giggled.

"No, I'm honored. Nobody's ever drawn me before. I didn't think I was worthy of being drawn." Brendon’s eyes followed the sketchbook as Dallon held it to his chest, picturing the drawing of him, archaic lines, a rough sketch but detailed. His face burned bright red, wondering how long Dallon had watched him to be able to get his features just right, the dimple in his right cheek and the tiny break in his eyebrow. The attention to detail. The attention to him.

"Well, I draw what's present in my life. You've been around a lot lately." He held up the sketchbook. "Therefore, you are one of my models."

Brendon couldn't help but beam at him, touched. No one had ever drawn him before. "So, humor me. I don’t know any artists. Do you do those typical artist things that you see on TV? You know, painting bowls of fruit? Naked models?" He approached Dallon's neatly made bed and they sat down simultaneously, maybe a little too close to each other though neither mentioned it.

Dallon shrugged, his knee bumping against Brendon’s idly. "Well, I've only painted fruit in school art classes, but never a naked model."

"Well, lemme know if you need help with that." Brendon offered before his mind could process it, and his blood burned but Dallon didn’t even realize, just let out a laugh at what he assumed to be a joke. It wasn't.

"Oh, I'm good for now. I don't think my mom would condone that. Maybe in college I'll get to do all that, y'know? It's really common there. More mature. For now, I just like sketching what's around me and stuff. I also do photography. Some, not a lot." He gestured to the photos on the wall, and Brendon jumped up to look at them.

"You took these?" He asked in disbelief, his eyes scanning the array of photos arranged messily on the wall. Dallon made a noise of confirmation. "Dallon, these are incredible. I thought they were taken professionally."

"Thank you, oh my god." Dallon was blushing when Brendon turned around, unused to the attention because as he’d said, he didn’t have many visitors, and Brendon had stalked him on the internet before. He didn’t post his art. Brendon would have known. "That's so sweet. I really tried; I know it's not that hard but it takes a lot to capture something that holds more emotion than what meets the eye."

"No, you're a genius." Brendon's eyes lingered on a few pictures longingly, a polaroid of Ryan laughing, one of he and Josh standing against a brick wall, looking at the camera with bored eyes. He wondered what it all meant, if it meant anything. "Can I explore a little bit? I feel like I'm in a museum."

Dallon was still smiling when Brendon looked at him for permission, his fingers itching to examine him like he was on display. "Go right ahead. I love having people judge everything my bare hands make."

"Your bare hands are impressive," Brendon muttered to himself, but Dallon heard, and snorted as he crossed one leg over the other, his eyes following Brendon around his room.

It was enchanting, everything displayed around him, pictures of mountains and scenery and his friends. Brendon felt like he was a part of it all. Or rather wished he could be, as an outsider looking in.

“When'd you get your nose pierced?" He asked then, though his gaze didn't stray from a photo of a younger looking Dallon with a bare face, just those beautiful blue eyes.

"The summer before high school. I was going through this phase— and, well, it's a long story. I was just kind of moody, needed a change. Put a hole through my face. It got infected because I changed it from a stud to a hoop without waiting for it to heal, but whatever. Made me seem edgier."

Brendon turned to look at him, and they exchanged sheepish smiles. "Ouch."

He made a face like he was remembering the pain. "Yeah, it wasn't pleasant. I had a lot of saline solution soaking to do."

Brendon couldn't help but laugh again, putting his hands on his hips and thinking back to when he was twelve, the look on his mother’s face, the guilt he felt as he tried to grow for himself. "I, um. I tried to pierce mine with a safety pin when I was twelve. I got too scared so I chickened out, but just as well. I have a weird nose."

Dallon smiled sympathetically. "I like your nose."

Brendon chuckled, turning his body back and forth idly as he folded his arms over his chest. "I still wouldn't look good with a nose ring."

Dallon leaned back, shrugging one shoulder like he knew it, anyway. "No, you wouldn't." He agreed, and Brendon smiled too.

"It makes you look like an artist, you know." He added before he turned back toward the wall, leaving Dallon to look fondly at his back. "It looks really good on you. Gives you an edge."

"Thanks. I like it too." He could hear the sincerity in his voice and he was about to turn back and grin at him before something caught his eye. Something that looked familiar but different, more unique, and all of a sudden he forgot what he was going to say.

"A dream catcher." He mumbled almost wistfully as he reached up to thumb the soft feather hanging from the beaded craft. He hadn't seen one in so long; he could remember when he used to spend weekends at his grandmother's house, she had a giant feathered dream catcher hanging in her guest room. Brendon used to think about how he never had nightmares when he was sleeping underneath it. He was convinced they were magic. Maybe the magic had died down a little throughout the years, but Brendon was still a believer. He had to be, with all of the fear trapped in him. He needed that escape.

"Yeah, I bought it at this craft fair I went to a few years ago in Salt Lake City. I suppose it makes me seem a little naive to believe in stuff like this, but I like to anyway.”

Brendon barely shook his head. "No, it's not naive. It's cute. You're a child at heart."

Dallon let himself laugh a little, putting a proud smile on Brendon's lips among the blush that had settled. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Brendon shrugged modestly and after one more kindhearted look, went to sit at his desk. He stared ahead of him at the drawings and photos on the wall behind it, minor sketches or watercolors or polaroids he’d taken and liked to look at. Brendon could resonate with a dream catcher, he'd like to think. Collecting dreams, nightmares, tucking them in his back pocket for later. "So, like, am I gonna get to be on the Dallon Weekes Wall of Fame?" He turned around and nodded his head toward the wall, and Dallon smiled fondly at him.

"Give it time."

Satisfied with the answer, Brendon turned around to look at the desk again, reaching out to pick up one of the framed photos, one of he and Ryan in a tight embrace, blush on Dallon’s cheeks and the glare of the flash reflecting in his glasses. “You guys look close.” He observed, holding up the photo for Dallon to see.

"Oh. Yeah, we've been best friends since like, the womb." Dallon looked at the photo from afar and twisted his ring on and off his finger. "I’m a year older than him because, you know. The whole thing. I was born in Utah and lived there for a year before we moved here. My dad was college friends with Ryan’s mom and she got him a really good job here. They practically shoved Ryan and I together to fulfill that friends who have kids and then make their kids be friends pipe dream. It worked, though. We are close. I introduced him and Josh in middle school and the rest is history." He made a sweeping gesture and Brendon laughed, twisted to look back at the desk, at a few different pens and pencils and other art supplies that he had lying around, all holding purpose and none of it wasted space. "What about you and Tyler? I always see you guys together. I figure you're close."

Brendon turned to look at him, contemplating. It was a long story. He didn't know if Dallon was asking for the sake of being nice or because he was genuinely curious. "Yeah, um. We met in fifth grade, he sat with me at lunch on his first day at my school and told me that I looked friendly enough to sit with. I was alone and I had no friends, so I let him stay. Since then he’s been my only friend, really. No one wants to be friends with the boy who wears nail polish and whatever.” He showed him his chipped polish and Dallon nodded in understanding. “But sometimes you find people who don’t care about that stuff. He was one of them. I just got lucky.”

“Me too.” Dallon agreed quietly, picking at a thread on his jeans.

“Up until last year I had this thing where I was really scared of everything. Threatened by everyone. And I don’t really know why. I mean, I barely even talked to my family. Tyler was the only one I confided in for a while before I started telling them what was wrong too so I could get help.”

"Huh." Dallon folded his arms like he was accusing him, if Brendon didn’t know better. "So you do have a past."

"Well, we all do. Some of us just hide it better than others." Brendon figured with a shrug before he turned away, leaving Dallon to stare at his back, intrigued though he would never say it.

He could feel Dallon's eyes linger on him as they fell silent. Brendon shared more than he ever thought he would with someone outside of his family or Tyler, but he didn't regret it like he thought he would have. Dallon had told him enough about his own story, his father, and Brendon had a past, too. Maybe not as sad, as scary, but it was a past.

While Brendon was looking at a few stray drawings that were resting on the desk, he let himself smile stupidly, unreasonably happy. "I can't believe you drew me." He said as an afterthought, smiling.

"Shut up," Dallon replied, lacking malice, and Brendon turned around to smile cheekily at him. Dallon smiled back like there was a joke Brendon didn't understand, but not in the way everything else felt. More honest, almost. Sweeter.

"I'm art."

"Yes you are," Dallon agreed and Brendon blushed again, though there wasn't much of anything that Dallon said that didn't bring heat to his cheeks. Brendon was joking, but— right before he looked away again to hide his face, suddenly self-conscious, Dallon added, "hey, I have something to show you. I think you’ll like it. Are you busy tomorrow after school?"

Brendon could feel his heart speed up. "No, I'm not working." He said eagerly, waiting.

"Can you hang out?"

Brendon nodded, too excited, but Dallon's eyes lit up and all of a sudden it didn't matter. Brendon let himself be excited. He never got excited about things anymore. And as Dallon ran his hands over his thighs, fidgeting slightly, Brendon had to keep from tricking himself into thinking it was something more. Could it be? "What were you thinking?"

"You'll see, Urie!" He teased, reaching out to nudge Brendon's socked foot with his own. "It's a surprise. One of my favorite places."

"Do I need money or anything?"

Dallon shook his head, and Brendon sat up. "You can bring some, but I'll pay for you."

Brendon's heart flipped in his chest and he resisted the sudden urge to giggle. When did he become this way? "How gentlemanly."

Dallon was smiling when Brendon turned his body to look at him again. A warm smile, a genuine one, one that made Brendon have to smile back. "What can I say? I was raised right."

Brendon got up from his desk and took a seat next to him on his bed. "So, does that mean I'm not a gentleman because I'm not paying for you?"

"Nah. I'm inviting you, so it's my treat. You're a perfect gentleman." He reached out to pinch Brendon's chin playfully, if not a little flirtily, and Brendon couldn't hold back his giggle this time. And if Dallon leaned close when he laughed too then neither one of them mentioned it, and then all of a sudden it was quiet again and he fell back, staring at the ceiling. Brendon laid beside him, suddenly sleepy.

Big brown eyes softened when he saw those little glow in the dark stars stuck in a scattered pattern on the ceiling, the ones Brendon used to love. He'd had them too, once upon a time, but the foam adhesive that was used to keep them up had long since lost its strength throughout the years, and the stars had all fallen. He never had the energy to buy some more and put them back up.

He pointed up at them excitedly, and Dallon dipped his head to look at him. "The stars!"

He nodded gently. "Yeah. When I was seven, we moved from Henderson to BC when my mom started her business here. So my first night here, I got scared because new places freaked me out a lot, and I cried until my parents came in my room to get me. So they brought me back to sleep in their bed with them, and when I got back from kindergarten the next day, my dad gave me these stars. He said that when you can see the stars, you know you're close to home."

Brendon smiled back at him sincerely and tilted his head up to look at the stars again, tried to picture Dallon as a kid, reaching up to stick the little plastic stars up on his ceiling with his father's help. "I love that." He told him, reminiscent.

"I used to wish on these stars every night. I remember once in elementary school we were doing some test in math class, I forget what it was on now, but I didn't know how to do it, so I made a wish that I would get a good grade on the test. And I brought home a ninety-five and started telling my parents that my stars could grant wishes."

"That's adorable." He said through laughter, and Dallon let out a little laugh of his own. What a beautiful sound, a sound he fell for with memories, little stories, relics of a past he’d lived so long ago though it was all new to Brendon.

"This is nerdy, but I still like to make wishes sometimes. I know they won't come true, but honestly I'm kind of a believer." He shifted his body a little, and his shoulder bumped Brendon's. "After my dad died I just kinda stopped believing in it. Before that, things seemed to go my way. A lifetime of good things gets you one really shitty experience, I guess."

Brendon watched his face, never really knew what to say to him. How did you tell someone you were sorry for such a traumatic experience before you even knew them? In a weak attempt to comfort him, he told him quietly, "I wish that didn't happen to you."

Dallon shrugged in that what can you do manner, and Brendon was addled. “Things happen. I try not to get pissed off anymore because I can’t change it.” He sat up, and Brendon followed. “Go explore. I don’t wanna get sad.”

“Okay.” Brendon got up again as Dallon nudged him in the side, turning to raise his eyebrows comically at him. He liked talking to Dallon. Getting to know him. He reached out to card through his records, realizing about six in that they were in alphabetical order by artist. “You have the Kinky Boots soundtrack?” He laughed, pulling the vinyl out and recognizing the cover from when his sister had come home from her trip to New York a couple of years prior, bringing back a magnet as a souvenir. “My sister saw it with her friends once. Like, on Broadway. She loved it.”

“Oh, it’s so good.” He put a hand to his chest. “I’ve never seen it live but I’m kind of an undercover musical nerd. I have a few soundtracks in here. Have you seen the movie it’s based on, at least? Do you listen to musicals? Don’t take this the wrong way but you look like someone who listens to musicals.”

Brendon half smiled at his enthusiasm, setting the album back down in its rightful slot. "No, I've never seen it. And I don't, actually. But I can see why you would think that."

"What? Nothing? Wicked? The Book of Mormon? Nothing?" Amused, Brendon shook his head. "God, Urie." Dallon gave him a look of incredulity and Brendon laughed again, watching him get up and head toward his desk. He produced a piece of paper and a pen and said, "I have an idea."

Brendon went to sit back down, noting that they had a few records in common, and watching him uncap his pen. “Okay.”

"We're going to start the Movie List. We write down every movie that one of us or both of us haven't seen and want to see, and whenever we're in the mood when we hang out, we can watch one of the movies and cross it off. We can become cultured together."

Brendon beamed while Dallon started writing the title of the list on the notebook paper, easily excited. He nodded when Dallon twisted his body and looked over his shoulder to get Brendon's opinion, grinning hopefully. Who was he to take that joy away from him? "Okay."

"Okay. And you're also gonna start listening to musicals, cause I mean, it's pathetic that you don't." He shrugged dorkily and Brendon laughed, nodded. For Dallon, anything.

Dallon migrated from his desk to his bed and Brendon’s shoulder pressed against his own, not even really realizing it as they took turns listing movies and making fun of each other because the number of movies Brendon hadn’t seen was pathetic and Dallon was probably too attached to eighties films. And somewhere in between laughing and looking up descriptions of movies to read to each other they became... friends. Real friends. Not school friends, not necessity friends, not pity friends, just friends.

The only time they were interrupted was when a woman's voice called for Dallon to say that dinner was ready, and they'd been laughing and talking so much that Dallon hadn’t even noticed his mother come in. Dallon rolled off of his bed, and Brendon reluctantly pulled himself up to follow. "Should I have my sister pick me up now?"

"No! Have dinner with us. I want you to stay." He reached out to take Brendon's hand and tugged him toward the door so Brendon followed, too in shock to refute. Dallon wanted him to stay. Did he actually just say that? Out loud? Was Brendon imagining things again? His daydreams were getting a little out of control.

"If I'm not imposing." He said hesitantly.

"No, you're not! Come on." He led him to the kitchen as his mother set the table. She looked up to greet her son but stopped short when she saw they had company, she hadn’t known, and Dallon waved him further into the kitchen as he trailed shyly behind him.

"Hi!" She greeted jovially with Dallon's smile, a wonderful smile he’d inherited, and Brendon smiled politely back.

“This is Brendon.” Dallon introduced him and he watched her face light up, recognizing his name, and fleetingly Brendon wondered how often Dallon had brought up his name if she knew it. “Brendon, this is my mom.”

"You're Brendon!" She exclaimed, and stuck out a hand for Brendon to shake. So she'd heard of him. "It's so nice to meet you! Dallon talks about you all the time."

"No he doesn't!" Dallon chimed in when Brendon shook his mom's hand with a laugh, shooting Dallon a look of disbelief. He talked about him to his mom. He was thinking of him. So maybe he was infatuated too. "Seriously. I mentioned that I was working on a project with you. That’s it.”

“And that you were so glad you were finally friends, and that you love his diner, and how great his family is...” She rambled pleasantly as if she were trying to embarrass him, because she was.

Brendon let out a laugh and looked over at Dallon fondly, his face burning red all of a sudden as he pouted at her, not bothering to help her set the table. "In my defense, I have no family or friends and nothing and no one interesting in my life. I was excited.”

"That's so sweet!" Brendon teased, bumping his hip against Dallon’s playfully.

Dallon's mom laughed, clearly having a good time embarrassing her son, and held up a plate toward Brendon. "Are you staying for dinner, sweetie?"

"Oh, if it's no trouble." He waved a hand but she shook her head and grabbed a glass for him too. Dallon stood beside him patiently like he was trying to protect him from his mother, standing his ground.

"Of course it's not." She gestured to one of the seats as the phone started ringing in the living room so Brendon sat down, making himself at home as Dallon sat beside him. “I love when Dallon has friends over. He doesn’t very often.”

“Go answer the phone, mom.” He shooed her away and Brendon looked down at his lap, smiling stupidly. She tutted at him but went to grab the phone, and Dallon apologized, "I'm sorry. She has this thing where she likes to embarrass me a lot for no reason. I'm not creepy, I swear."

Brendon shook his head reassuringly; he didn’t think that at all. He was glad that Dallon talked so fondly of him. It meant that Brendon wasn’t totally imagining all of this. “No, I don’t think you’re creepy. I love that. I’m glad we became friends too. We always seemed to have a lot in common.”

“Yeah, we did.” Dallon mused like he was lost in thought, reminiscing on the years before now, as his mother appeared again, setting the phone down on the counter.

“It was work. They just had a question.” She announced apologetically as she slid into the seat across from her son, beginning to pile food onto her plate.

"What do you do?" Brendon asked, it seemed like the right thing to do, wanting to make a good first impression but genuinely curious. “Dallon said you started a business here.”

She took a sip of her drink, nodding, and Dallon looked at him like he couldn’t believe he’d been paying attention. "Oh, I own a little thrift store in the Historic District."

Brendon's eyes widened and he pointed at her with his fork excitedly, waving it around enthusiastically. "The place with the vintage signs hanging up everywhere?" She nodded. "No way! I love that place!"

"You're just saying that." She waved a hand modestly.

"No, seriously, I go there all the time. My best friend practically lives in your store. He'll like, only buy clothes from you guys. Half of the things I own are from there. S’why I dress like a toddler. I used to go there all the time and find the funniest clothes and I thought it would be ironic to wear it but then it became my style. You guys have the best stuff. And we got a bunch of the signs that are hanging up in the diner there, too.”

She laughed happily and Dallon added, "Small world." Brendon turned to raise his eyebrows at him, smiling too. “To be fair, we love your diner too. Back before I knew you, we went all the time.”

“Back before I worked there, probably.” He suggested, as it hadn’t been long since he’d started and he would know if Dallon had been in there.

"If only my son was like you.” Dallon’s mother said mock-wistfully. “At least you help out your parents. Dallon refuses to work for me."

Dallon swatted at her and Brendon laughed, falling in love with their dynamic. "No, I wish I didn't have to work. But the family rule is that when the kids turn sixteen, they have to start there or get another job. It felt safest to work with my family. No commute, either. I started about seven months ago. I didn’t have a choice. But I’m not— I’m not good at it, I drop stuff all the time and forget orders and I'm really not ideal at all. I have no sense of balance. All of our bad reviews on Yelp are my fault. They should have fired me about seven months ago."

Dallon’s mother smiled at him. “Dallon said you have four siblings. You all work there?”

“Yeah, uh, two brothers and two sisters. I’m the youngest. My oldest sister and both my brothers will help my dad cook when he needs it, and we’re small enough that we don’t need to hire outside the family. It gets really crazy there, but I like it sometimes. Having a big family.”

"I'd love for Dallon to have siblings, but he was a miracle baby." She reached out to pinch Dallon's cheek over the table adoringly and Dallon smiled with a closed mouth, obviously used to putting up with it. "But he's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Even though he won't work for you." Brendon played, and Dallon kicked at his foot under the table, as comfortable with Brendon as Brendon was becoming with his family. He realized then that he wasn’t nervous, stuttering, too scared to speak out of fear of messing up. He just felt safe there. Like they’d known each other for years.

“At least he volunteers. He’s much better there than at the store dealing with adults all day. It gets exhausting. Besides, volunteering is good for college. They like that kind of stuff.”

"Well, it’s not just for college. I like working with kids." Dallon added between bites of food. "It's fun. They love me. It kinda makes me feel like I have little siblings. It’s at the rec center on Arizona. I do arts and crafts with kids and help them out and whatever. It's not a lot, just a couple of hours whenever they need me, but it's really fun. Maybe you can come with me one day.”

Brendon smiled fondly at him, picturing him working with kids, doing arts and crafts and encouraging them to think outside the box. "That's so sweet. I would love to. It sounds like a lot of fun.”

“It is! You don’t have to know much about kids either, there’s the curator and everything so you don’t have to have experience. Just be nice to the kids. Maybe in a couple of weeks I’ll take you. We’re making hand turkeys. There will be glue and feathers and multicolored construction paper."

“I can't wait." Brendon kicked at his foot again and Dallon laughed, looking down at his plate and reaching out for his drink.

What got him was his smile. That smile, the way his teeth were crooked because he never had braces, a little lopsided, the dimples in his cheeks and the little curve on the edges of his grin. It wasn't just the smile, but what it was supposed to represent: his happiness. Brendon adored his happiness.

The thing was, artist and happy were not synonyms. In fact, if Brendon knew one thing about artists in history, it was that artists were sad. And maybe it was a cruel stereotype he’d led himself to believe, but to the extent of his knowledge he’d never heard of a happy artist. So why was Dallon any different? His smile was so perfect that the sun borrowed his light. Brendon couldn’t quite connect it.

Maybe it was how he was brought up. Maybe it was his creative process, or the way he chose to see the world. Maybe he was different than the others in history. Brendon still had time to figure that out.

Dallon was smiling. It was right there in front of him. He could see it, he could hear his laughter, he could feel the joy radiating off of him like a layer of heat from a hot car in the summer. So Brendon was still testing his theory that all artists were sad, just as his organization system was. He couldn’t ask, and he couldn’t dig for more information, so he was going to watch carefully. He was going to prove it. Not all artists would be sad. In fact, they could be happy. Dallon would be the first.


	6. Chapter 5: Beyond the Trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hate this chapter but slowly they get better please bear with me

Dallon Weekes was nothing if not cryptic, always having been someone who chose carefully narrow secrecy both now and before Brendon had known him. When the final bell rang he had practically grabbed Brendon by the wrist and dragged him to his car, face illuminated by a smile. Brendon wasn't one for surprises, but this was Dallon and it wasn't like he was going to tie him up and torture him in his basement, he didn't even have one of those, so he followed with anxiety burning in his veins.

The car ride to downtown was short and as Brendon settled in Dallon clicked on the CD, never one for listening to the radio. Brendon turned to look at him, busying himself with tugging on his seatbelt and making himself at home. "What's this?"

He stuck the key in the ignition. "Miniature Tigers. One of my favorite bands."

"Huh. I like it." Brendon twisted up the volume, smiling to himself. He liked Dallon’s car, being a passenger in it and feeling like he fit. "So Dallon, be honest here." Dallon turned his head just enough to look at him and nodded. "How miniature are these tigers?"

An impish smirk met Dallon's lips and he tilted his head back, nodding and playing along. "They're like, really tiny."

Brendon raised his eyebrows comically. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Imagine like, the smallest tigers you can think of." Brendon bit his lip, holding back a laugh. Everything felt so... commonplace. Joking with him. And maybe that was what it would always be like. Stupid jokes and Brendon's careful avoidance of his true feelings. Not all of it had to mean something.

He leaned back in his seat and glanced up toward the roof of the car whimsically. "Okay, I'm imagining it."

Dallon kept a straight face. "Now divide that by ten."

"Woah. Those are some tiny tigers."

"Seriously." Dallon finally let himself let out a laugh, and they exchanged grins before Brendon reached over to twist the volume up a little more, deciding that he’d listen.

Brendon sat quietly for a couple of minutes and tapped his fingers against his thighs until Dallon parked the car in front of a little building with glass windows and an off-white exterior. He looked out the window and pushed his glasses up further on his nose to read the intricate gold lettering on the glass in a delicate cursive font. It was a cafe of some sort, and how had he managed to miss this every time he passed by?

Eloquently, he stated the obvious, "It's a cafe."

"Uh huh."

Brendon twisted to look at him. "What's so special about a cafe?"

"Macarons." Dallon grinned brightly and let himself out of the car without another word, so a confused Brendon followed.

"Macarons?" He closed the car door and followed Dallon to the little shop. "Those French cookie things?"

"Macarons are more than just French cookie things! Trust me, Bren." He opened the door with a sweeping gesture for Brendon to enter first so he did, greeted by warmth and a sweet smell. Under the front counter was a glass display of macarons and Brendon followed Dallon toward a table, observing his surroundings.

Brendon looked up at Dallon with a pleasant smile. "This is really cool."

"Yeah! Is there anything specific you want, or should I just get a few different flavors?" He gestured to the display box and Brendon looked over it, setting his hoodie down over a chair.

“Surprise me. I’ll have whatever you’re having.” He trusted Dallon’s taste, watching him smile at him like he was letting him in on a secret, and slid into a seat at a table by the window as Dallon stepped up to the counter.

He looked around at the photos on the wall and the golden decals, everything seemed to fit, as Dallon set a tray down with two plastic cups of soda and a plate of macarons. Brendon smiled warmly at him, watching him like he didn’t even have to try. Dallon nodded a hello at him, not quite knowing what to say, and Brendon began to sort the cookies into different categories on opposite sides of the plate.

"So, I feel like we're always having these relatively deep conversations," Brendon said casually, taking a sip of his drink once he was done. Dallon grinned at him with his own drink's straw in between his teeth, Brendon’s stomach flipped happily, and he prayed he’d bite.

"You're not wrong." Dallon nodded in acknowledgment, and Brendon scratched at his wrist under the table. "If you're craving some deep conversation now, I'd be happy to abide. I prefer that over small talk any day."

"Me too," Brendon agreed; they had more in common than he’d thought. Maybe they could work out, in a perfect world. In a world where maybe Brendon wasn't scared. In a world where Dallon wasn't the most mysterious thing he'd ever seen. "Alright, what's next on the deep conversation schedule?"

"Hm. Mortality, beliefs, general wonderings," Dallon listed playfully on his fingers. Brendon laughed quietly, pulling his hands away from the drink to wipe them on his jeans. The condensation was sticky on his fingers to match the nervous sweat on his forehead, it wasn't even hot out, was this a date, why couldn't he just ask, and Dallon was smiling so warmly at him that maybe the chilly November air didn't matter either way.

“I actually have a general wondering. It’s been on my mind a lot lately.” Brendon mentioned, swirling his drink around in his cup. “Can I ask you a mean question?”

Dallon looked at him with amusement and Brendon grinned hopefully, genuinely curious. “Alright, I’ll bite. Go for it.”

“Why Dallon?” He asked blatantly and Dallon laughed, looking away in disbelief like he couldn’t believe he had the audacity. “Seriously!” Brendon laughed too, not meaning any harm, just finding it funny how comfortable he was asking. “Why did your parents name you Dallon?”

“My parents were religion nuts!” He defended himself with a laugh, kicking at his foot under the table. “I’m named after this Mormon religious leader. Something about me being God’s miracle, or something. I don’t really know the history behind it, but it’s very Mormon. That’s how I was raised, y’know? I don’t go to church much anymore but every once in a while, I'll find it in me to make it over there. It's not that I don't want to, it's just that a lot of stuff went on over the past couple of years and I kinda started to question my beliefs and whatever. Thought that because I'm gay, they wouldn't accept me anyway. But over the years I think the LDS has become a lot more welcoming, and I tend to break some rules anyway." Dallon shrugged like he wasn't coming out, like it was any other conversation, and maybe that was because for him, it was. But Brendon blinked at him in disbelief, blinked again. And again. Dallon was gay. He really was throwing off the system.

"You're gay?" He repeated, the words feeling foreign on his tongue though he'd said them a million times each. And as Dallon nodded the affirmative, Brendon felt his heart flutter wildly. Fuck, oh fuck. "Oh."

"Yeah. You are too, right?" He asked casually, looking a little too aloof for something like this. Brendon had learned not to do that, ask someone flat out who they really were behind the scenes, but it was endearing on Dallon. Charming, even, and really, Brendon would probably give him his social security if he asked kindly enough. He watched Dallon with a confused nod, how could he have known, was it really that obvious, and Dallon shrugged again, no big deal. "Tyler has been talking to Josh a lot, he mentioned you liking guys. Plus, that whole boyfriend comment your mom made when I went over your house. I didn't wanna say anything, just in case you're not out or something, but if your mom asks if a random guy you bring home is your boyfriend, it probably means you're into guys.”

"Of course he did." Brendon rolled his eyes at his nosy best friend, of course Tyler would talk about Brendon's sexuality in front of both of their potential love interests. "Tyler kind of likes to literally only talk about my life, seeing as he’s part of pretty much all of it. Sorry if he ever gets too personal or anything. No one can really tame him.”

Dallon shook his head reassuringly. "Hey, I get it. My friends do the same to me. But don't worry, he's got all good things to say."

"Yeah, do me a favor and never listen to him," Brendon laughed, and Dallon joined in before he added a quick, "and, um. I don't want you to assume that because my mom asked that I'm, like, always bringing boys home. Cause I'm not. You're like, the only boy I talk to. Not like that, um, like. You're not..." He looked down at his lap, cheeks red with embarrassment. He never knew how to stop talking. "I know there have been rumors about me and stuff. They're not true. I'm not, like, a slut or anything. I'm not cheap."

"I didn't think you were, Urie." Dallon kicked at his foot again, and when Brendon glanced up Dallon smiled apologetically. "I wasn't trying to pry or anything. I didn't wanna out you. You know, in case you're not okay with me knowing. I'll completely erase it from my mind. You're totally hetero." He put his hands up in surrender, warmly considerate of Brendon's feelings. Everyone else at school just teased him, though it was different with someone who could see where he was coming from.

"No, I don't care. It's not a secret. I'm alright with you knowing." Brendon assured him quickly with the hint of a laugh, and relief washed over Dallon's face. A face that had seen what could happen when coming out didn't go as planned. "I've been out for a while, don't worry. I literally posted it on Instagram like a dumbass last year. Everyone knows. Tyler wouldn't have said anything if I wasn't out."

"Yeah, me too. And I'm glad you're okay with me knowing because I didn't wanna pretend that you were totally hetero." With a comical grin, he held up his cup for a cheers. "We're one and the same, Brendon Urie."

Brendon laughed and tapped his cup against Dallon's, smiling at the clink of the plastic before he held it up as a gesture of endearment. "No kidding."

Dallon grinned back, something sweet in his gaze. And Brendon was falling in love with that gaze, meant just for him, unreadable but warm, so warm that he felt like maybe this wasn't even him. Brendon Urie, featuring a beautiful boy staring at him from across the table like he needed to memorize the slope of his cheek and the shape of his lips. "And by the way, Brendon," Brendon glanced up again, unsuspecting, "you're too cute to be cheap."

"Oh." Brendon looked back down, oh my god, and grinned at his lap with a quiet, nervous laugh. He didn't know what to say so he said nothing at first, a thank you couldn't seem to come out like it would if he knew how to do this. His eyes flickered up again to catch blue ones smiling at him, and really, he didn't know what to say.

“Mm.” Dallon took a long sip of soda and set his cup back down on the table, disregarding the blushing mess of a boy across from him. It was flirting. There was no way it wasn't. "Hey, so what are your thoughts on the place?" He changed the subject without a second thought, and Brendon should have just asked, should have just blurted out that he liked him and that he was cute too, so fucking goddamn adorable, and he should have leaned in and caught his lips and smiled and blushed and asked him on a date right then and there. But he couldn't, and he didn't.

"Oh. Um. I love it." Brendon gestured around at everything. "My oldest sister used to date this guy that was obsessed with French culture or whatever, so once he came over and we all made macarons. They tasted nothing like these, though, these are so much better."

"Oh, yeah. My parents spent a year in France together before they had me. They always wanted to move to Paris, but we ended up staying in Nevada because of their work. I grew up coming here, though, they were still obsessed with everything French. I know a little bit of the language. Like, a tiny bit. Nothing to write home about.”

"You do?" Brendon asked incredulously, and Dallon nodded enthusiastically, interesting and pretending not to know it. Not being very good at pretending not to know it, but the smile splitting Brendon's face in half was warm in this cold and Dallon wouldn't admit anything, anyway. "That's awesome."

"I mean, not nearly enough to matter. I know how to order a few things from restaurants and how to ask for the bathroom and for general directions, and then basic everyday stuff. You know, nice to meet you, my name is, stuff like that. It's not really that impressive." He waved it off modestly.

"That's totally impressive. Knowing French is hot," Brendon said before he could stop himself but Dallon smiled, grinned, really, taking the straw of his drink in his teeth again, and who knew what his intention was? Introducing Brendon to a world that was his own. Trying to impress him. Was he?

"Are you busy this weekend?" He asked, and Brendon shook his head a little too eagerly. He knew what that meant. It was code. If Brendon could cross more lines, draw his own out, maybe; they were already stepping out of the ones preset. Meet more of Dallon. Spend time with me, it meant, and I want to see you again. I want to be around you. I want you, maybe, though that was the one that fueled Brendon's three a.m. daydreams, nocturnal as he was.

"You should sleep over."

Could he? "I could."

“Ask your parents! It’ll be fun. We can start the Movie List and everything!” He enthused, sitting up in his seat and smiling. God, that smile. That was the kind of smile that boys fell in love with around here. That was the kind of smile that Brendon would collect and frame and treasure.

He nodded fast. “I definitely will.”

“Good." He smiled back, eyes shining. Brendon loved blue eyes. "So, um, there’s a park down the street, if you wanna go? There’s not much else to do, but I don’t really wanna go home.” He proposed awkwardly, like it was embarrassing to ask. Like Brendon wasn't planning on asking, either.

“Definitely. Let’s go, then.” He stood up, nodding his head toward the door. Dallon nodded back, returned the used plate and tray to the front before they each picked up their drinks and made their way out, side by side and shoulders almost touching though neither would label it intentional. Dallon held the door open for Brendon, made a very gentlemanly sweeping gesture to guide him out first, grinned victoriously when Brendon giggled, blushed, pretended to curtsy.

They sipped their drinks idly while a cool breeze wafted by and blew the leaves on the ground a few feet. It was starting to get colder out, but Brendon liked the crisp, fresh air, the end of the seritonal season, the smell of the earth preparing itself for the cold. He was glad to be able to spend a little time outside before winter rolled around and the temperatures dropped. It would be too cold to do this then, spend days walking around the city like they were exploring it for the first time, opening doors for each other and learning things they didn't know before.

"So, uh, what about you, Urie? You believe in God?" Dallon brought up suddenly as they started down the sidewalk. Brendon shrugged and shook his head, hoped it wouldn't be a deal breaker. His system of beliefs just differed from what was orthodox in this place.

"Nah. I don’t really think so." He looked up at the sky as if he were challenging God to some sort of battle. "I kind of used to. Went to church and stuff as a kid. But then I heard that being gay will earn you a one way ticket to hell, and I realized that I'd rather have a relationship with a boy than with God."

"You know, the bible doesn't say that. That you're going to hell if you're gay. People just interpret things differently. You're not going to hell, Brendon, and neither am I. If I'm going to hell, it's gonna be for something else entirely."

"If there's even a hell to go to," Brendon figured.

"Well, you never know." Dallon shrugged and gestured for them to cross the street, so Brendon glanced both ways and sped up his pace to follow him to the other side.

"Anyway, my parents actually raised us Mormon too but they're not completely dedicated, they really didn't care when I told them I didn't believe in God. They didn't care when I came out, either. Actually, no, I take that back. They cared in a good way. They were just really excited that their kid wasn't just devoid of emotion, since every time they asked me if I liked a girl, I said that I didn't. Little did they know."

Dallon chuckled and kicked a rock with the tip of his sneaker. "Yeah, my parents were surprised but they were accepting. They even arranged it so that some of my mom's store's proceeds go to an LGBTQ charity. They wanted to be a part of it immediately, and it was kind of cheesy, but I think more than anything they wanted to prove that they were okay with it. But they're avid believers in making a change, so."

"That— that's amazing. Your parents seem so cool. I mean, they're accepting, and they did that, and they went to France, and like, my mom would never let me pierce my nose. She would literally disown me."

He let out another little laugh and turned to look at where the rock ended up, up against a fence in a little tuft of grass on the side of the sidewalk. "I guess you can be glad the safety pin thing didn't work out, right?" He joked, and Brendon laughed. "Yeah, that's another great thing about them. They understand my freedom of expression. And they were supportive of everything I did. It's actually really nice. I'm just glad I didn't get homophobic assholes as parents, y'know? It's so much better to have them be cheesy and gross than to have them hate me for liking guys. Especially being in the church. Higher risk for homophobia."

He nodded in understanding: he got it. He'd laid awake at night for weeks before he came out, praying that it would be okay, that if there was a God then He would still love him; that his parents would, too. "Yeah, I get it. My parents too. And it's good that you got to come out. Before..." He paused, and Dallon nodded. He didn't have to say it. He wasn't sure he could.

"Yeah, I know."

Brendon suddenly felt the need to apologize, his stomach flaring up with anxiety as he looked over to see Dallon watching their sneakers step against the concrete. "I'm sorry."

Dallon shook his head. “No, don't be. It is a good thing. That would probably be one of my biggest regrets, not telling my dad that I'm gay before he died. I'm thankful I got to."

"And it's good that they were okay with it." He reasoned, knew he would feel terrible if something happened to either of his parents, especially before he came out to them. It made his skin crawl to even think about. How did Dallon do it? How could someone be so brave?

"I actually think they kinda knew. I sat them down and told them that I was gay and not to hate me. My dad said that as long as I know who I am and that I'll be happy, then it's okay. And my mom was like, of course you are, you're an artist and you wear cardigans."

"That's true, they had a point.”

"Shut it." Dallon elbowed him in the side, and Brendon giggled. “So, how’d you come out? How’d you know? Gimme the spiel.”

They wandered into the park and migrated toward the swings, where Brendon took a seat on the one beside Dallon and started to toe the ground to push himself. He looked up in thought, but he could see a pair of blue eyes plastered on his face, unmoving. “It’s the usual thing. Always suspected it, suddenly realized in middle school, pined over cute boys that were unattainable with my best friend after we came out to each other at the end of seventh grade. A few months later, I told my family. I only started opening up about it at school sophomore year after I figured some personal shit out.” He reminisced, thinking about it like it were yesterday. Posting it on Instagram and praying no one would comment something mean, not knowing how else to get it out there. Telling Tyler about bumping into Dallon in the halls, a blushing mess. Baby steps. One day he’d tell him.

"Um, it was kind of the same for me. It wasn't like some big revelation though, it kind of just crept up on me suddenly. It basically tapped me on the shoulder and said hey, you like dudes. I mean, it was a little more complicated than that, I suspected it for a while and came out before I knew for sure, I had a lot of doubts before I came to terms with it somewhere along the way. But that was the extent of my coming of age story, I guess."

Brendon had begun to kick a couple of wood chips away from underneath his foot where it was hanging off the swing, focusing his vision on the ground beneath him. “So how long after you realized did you come out?”

“Uh, a couple of months...? I kind of didn't know for sure, I just thought it and then I was fourteen and felt like I should come out. I wasn’t that scared or anything, I just didn’t feel the need to tell them. When I thought that things started to get serious, I told them.”

Brendon glanced at him, his eyes fixating on the way his fingers flexed against the swing. “What do you mean, things started to get serious?”

Dallon shrugged half-heartedly and swung his legs back and forth slowly, as if he were letting himself be blown by the wind. As if he were just another apparition. “I was going into high school, things were changing, I was starting to have real feelings for people. And I was really on the fence about it, I didn't know if it was real, you know? When you're that age you question everything. And then my dad died, and... it was different. I had feelings for someone. Stupid feelings, ones that hurt both of us, and in the end, nothing came of it. Nothing real, anyway. And that's a long story, I won't get into it, but when I started school things changed. Stayed the same, but changed. It's hard to explain. The point is, though, is that I never knew the validity of my feelings until I started liking people for real."

Brendon’s heart dropped in his stomach, and of course Dallon would have liked someone at some point in his life. Of course. “Oh.”

“Yeah. You know, and I felt bad for coming out before I was sure, and I was scared that it would have been all for nothing, but now I know who I am and it's not so complicated anymore. That was just a really weird time and... I mean, I’m just glad I told my parents before my dad died. That's what actually matters now. That would’ve been really hard.”

"So, you were fourteen when you came out?"

Dallon traced a slit in the knee of his jeans with his index fingernail, nodding slowly. "Uh huh. It was a few days before my fifteenth birthday, actually. He died fifteen days after my birthday, which is kind of disturbingly ironic. May nineteenth."

Brendon looked up at him again, caught reminiscent tribulation in soft blue eyes. "I'm sorry."

Dallon nodded respectfully at his sincerity. "Thank you, but I've made my peace with it. I'm just really, really thankful that I could come out before he died, you know? It was something I had to do. He had to know."

“At least you were brave about it. I was so scared to come out. I remember staying up all night looking up 'am I gay' on Google and clicking on every website until I came to terms with it. I knew it would be hard and everything, but I didn't wanna admit it because I already felt like I was different enough. I'm not some self-hating gay or anything, don't get me wrong, I just didn't wanna be an outsider. I kind of already was. And there were just so many things to worry about, school and church and my family, you know? But my parents were really great about it, they convinced me that just because I like guys doesn't mean I'm bad. It took me a little while to get that.” He pulled his knee to his chest and rested his heel on the swing.

“No, I understand, I did that too, before I was sure. But at least they were accepting, that's the most important thing,” Dallon figured. “I was scared too, though, I wouldn't be embarrassed about that. I think every gay kid is scared to come out. It’s the whole doing extensive research, reciting your whole coming out speech to yourself in the mirror, rewording it every time, writing it down in your notebook during class thing. You spend so much time stressing out about it only for it to be as simple as a couple of words that make no difference, when it all comes down to it.”

Hearing about Dallon’s insecurities made Brendon think a lot about how he was a real person, as stupid as it was. Brendon had spent years watching him from afar, admiring him with his lip in his teeth and his walls up. Once he'd put him on a pedestal, before he knew. But now... he wasn’t just the adorable Dallon Weekes that Brendon had fallen for once upon a time. He wasn't that idealistic, gorgeous love interest like in all the movies. He was a person with feelings, he was relatable and he made mistakes. He sat in bed and researched why he was gay, stressed out about it, walked tracks in his bedroom floor. He came out, just like Brendon had, and now... things had changed. Brendon knew that now more than ever.

“The day I came out, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror for like, an hour, and I just kept reciting my whole speech until my parents got home.” He continued.

“I did the exact same thing.”

“I’m not surprised.” Dallon was smiling when Brendon looked over at him again. That smile could save lives, Brendon was convinced. The way his blue eyes shined when his grin reached them could save Brendon’s life. “I like talking to you, Brendon.”

The words came to Brendon like he was in a dream. No one had ever said that to him before, thought more of him than nothing. No one... how did he even answer to that? What could he say that would amount to anything that Dallon had said to him? How could he thank him enough? He couldn't. And in time, he would learn, but for now he just blushed, beamed at him brightly. “I like talking to you too, Dallon.”

The sky faded to dark as the two made idle conversation on the swing set at the park, never bothering to check the time because why bother when it all felt so infinite? Dallon drove Brendon home, let him choose an album to play in the car and sang along quietly under his breath as Brendon rolled the windows down, smiling to himself. Sometimes Dallon was just so beautiful in his element and Brendon had a feeling he didn't even know it.

Dallon hugged him swiftly over the middle console of his car before Brendon got out and hurried toward the steps, out of the chilly air and toward the warmth of his home. He turned with his back against the door to smile at Dallon, heart beating fast, and Dallon sat in the driver's seat for a minute, just watching, staring back. Staring like they were both thinking the same thing, daring each other to say it. Neither of them did.

After shucking off his jacket and converse in the front room, he was met with an indignant mother sitting at the kitchen table, making him stop in his place. She glanced up at him and clucked her tongue expectantly, and suddenly he remembered that he hadn’t even told her he wouldn’t be home right after school.

Rocking back and forth on his feet, he smiled sheepishly and hoped she’d be nice. “Hi, mama.”

“It’s after eight, Brendon. It’s dark out. Where were you?” She asked, and he could feel her anxiety, she always got that way when he wasn't where he was supposed to be. She had a horrible theory that if he wasn’t always under her watch, he would somehow join a gang and start doing every drug in the book. That wasn’t very likely at all, considering the fact that he had no interest in drugs or people, for that matter. He could never join a gang.

“I was just with Dallon. We went out after school and I forgot to tell you.” He crossed his heart, and she sighed in relief.

“You were?” He nodded vigorously so she pat the table, eyes lit up in delight. “Well, come tell me about that, then. Did you have fun? What did you do?”

He took a seat, biting back a stupid smile. He’d thought about this for a long time; sitting down with her to tell her how much he liked this boy. Not being scared to open up for once. Simple, maybe, to anybody else, but everything felt like a milestone for Brendon these days. “He took me to this macaron cafe on the other side of town. I didn’t even know it was there. It was really good, though. I’ve never had real macarons. And we walked to this park down the street and talked. And talking is so nice. I forgot how much I like talking when I don’t have to worry about it. He’s so easy to talk to. I just... I really like him, mama. A lot. He’s really nice and funny and I’m excited about him.”

Her eyes softened into sincerity, I love and support you practically tattooed on her forehead. Brendon knew that she did. He’d struggled with that a lot before he’d come out. But things were different now, he was different now, and he didn’t really care what people thought. He was a boy’s boy. That wasn’t going to change for anybody. He didn’t want it to change anymore. “As long as you’re being safe then I’m happy for you, ipo. I just worry about you being out in the world sometimes. Please try to keep me updated.”

“Yeah. Promise.” He nodded, just grateful that she was so understanding. “So... does that mean you’ll let me sleep over his house this weekend? Cause he asked, and I really wanna, and I promise I’ll do all my homework and everything beforehand. And I'll eat real meals and not just takeout and I'll brush my teeth before bed even though I never do that, and I'll be polite and respectful. Please?”

Her eyes followed his with consideration and he tapped the table anxiously with his index finger knuckle. She watched him for signs of nervousness, anxiety, a lie, anything; she was protective. It was just how she was. Quietly, she asked, “Are you seeing him?”

“I wish.” He answered bluntly. It made her smile, and he hadn’t really meant to say it, but when he did, he didn’t regret it.

“So that’s a no.”

“That is a definite no. We’re just becoming friends and I want him to like me. I wanna be his friend. It’s nice to have a friend for a change.” He looked up at her pleadingly, he never did this as a child, got excited about sleepovers and sharing stories and having fun with no anxiety. He wanted to get excited about something. “Please?”

She sighed, but not in exasperation. In self-awareness, like she knew she was crazy for letting her hormonal teenage son spend the night with the boy he had a crush on. But it was followed by a smile. A genuine one. Because that hormonal teenage son was doing better than he ever had, and what was one night? “Fine, as long as you’re not fooling around. I want you to get your homework done and everything, though. And you know I'll find out if you don't.”

“We’re not fooling around. I promise I’ll get everything done.” He put his hands together in a begging gesture, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout. She nodded, looking at him like he knew his trust was being tested, and he jumped up to hug her, squealing like a child. In a way, he still was one. “Yes, thank you!”

She laughed, rubbing his shoulder carefully. "You're welcome, my boy. And you don't have to change your entire routine, I guess, just. Please brush your teeth in the morning. Please. And remember this when you're giving me a hard time. You know how I feel about sleepovers with people who are more than friends."

He pulled away and started to bounce up and down on his toes in excitement. That was a discussion for later, he and Dallon weren't exactly more than friends, but he wouldn't mention it. She could say whatever she wanted because he was sleeping over at Dallon’s. "I will! Thank you. Thank you. I'm gonna brush my teeth so damn well." He grinned stupidly and she laughed again, happy when he was happy. "Okay. I'm gonna go upstairs. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay, baby." She nodded, and he turned to leave, made it to the doorway before he turned around again.

"Hey, mama?" He started, earning her gaze once more. "He's gay."

"He is?" He bit back that smile, nodding. "He told you that?" Again, he nodded, and she clucked her tongue with a smile of her own. "Well, in that case, go get 'em, kid."

"Oh, trust me." Brendon leaned back against the arch of the doorway, smiled like she had no idea. "I will."

* * *

What was he supposed to wear? Was there like, some dress code for boys who were having their first sleepover with the boy they liked? Was that a thing? Was Brendon just totally out of the loop? He needed to get a Tumblr or something. There was so much he felt like he didn't know. With Tyler so busy now and whatever he and Dallon were, he needed to take precedent. He wanted Dallon to like him. He wanted Dallon to want him. The only problem was that that was so damn hard when he was such a dork.

His leg shook anxiously in the passenger seat of the car as he drummed along on his thighs to the music on the radio for a change, Dallon was in the process of cleaning out the car and CDs were scarce. Everything on the radio sucked, but, well. It didn't matter today anyway. Dallon glanced at him every few minutes, smiled to himself, and Brendon pretended not to notice. He just tilted his head toward the window and smiled too, cheeks red, heart beating.

Dallon pulled into the parking lot underneath the building as they talked about their history homework, which Brendon had promised his mother he'd do right away. And Brendon turned to grimace at him as he climbed out of the car and grabbed his bag, packed a little heavier with clothes today. He'd almost forgot. But he sure as hell wasn't brushing his teeth before bed, so he'd get it done. He just... wanted to get some other stuff done, too.

"I just don't get why we have to learn about agriculture! I get that it may have been important for people to know once in the past or whatever, but it's literally talking about soil. I don't wanna be a farmer. I'm never gonna be a farmer!" Brendon rambled, following Dallon down the hallway past the Thanksgiving decorations adorning the walls.

"Well, why not? Being a farmer is a totally respectable career!" Dallon pulled his keys out of the side pocket in his backpack, tone sketched through a laugh. "I mean, you get to wear those sexy denim overalls and harvest crops and like, hang out with cows and stuff. Sounds like a total dream."

"Oh." Brendon laughed, tilting his head to the side to look at Dallon with a grin. "Yeah, you're totally right. I would look fucking amazing in those denim overalls. My body was built for those."

"I agree." Dallon made an up and down motion with his hand, gesturing at Brendon's body. "And those boots you have to wear? Iconic. And as a bonus, you'll never have to buy carrots at the grocery store ever again."

"Oh my god." Brendon hit him in the arm with another laugh, and Dallon couldn't bite back his grin. "That changes everything. I might reconsider my future career choice. Not paying one seventy-nine for a bag of carrots is totally worth it. Thank you, Dallon, you're seriously a life saver."

"Oh, of course. It's my pleasure." He mock-bowed and gave Brendon another jovial grin before he stuck the key in the lock and pushed the door open. Brendon cast another smile up at him, his laughter fading as he stepped inside.

“So, what are we gonna do tonight?” Brendon asked while Dallon shut the door behind him. He shrugged and kicked off his shoes so Brendon did too, and only offered an illustrious grin when Dallon cast him a glance, an eyebrow quirked with amusement. Brendon wasn't gonna bother hiding it; he was happy. He was nervous, excited, and happy.

Smile reaching his eyes, Dallon started toward his room. “I don't know. Anything. What do you wanna do?”

Dallon pushed open the door and let Brendon in first with another sweep of his arm. “I don't know. Anything.”

Dallon glanced at Brendon with a half smirk on his face, but he couldn't help it. He was in a good mood. Brendon smiled back cheekily before he looked around his room, taking in the sweet familiarity of the art hanging around them like they were tucked into a fever dream of blurred edges and saturated colors.

What was most peculiar to him was that he didn’t want to organize everything in the room: collaged photos, the messy art supplies, the lack of color coordination. He was totally fine. He'd never been so fine. He gave the room a once-over and then turned to Dallon nervously, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Hey, um, should I sleep on the floor or something?” He made a weak sweeping gesture with his arm, and only then did Dallon realize he was still holding his backpack.

Dallon shook his head and took Brendon’s bag from his hands politely, setting it down on his chair, history homework forgotten. Brendon respected the hospitality. “No, don’t be ridiculous, you can sleep in my bed. Unless that makes you uncomfortable, then-“

Brendon may have been a little too quick to interrupt. “No, it’s okay, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I don't mind. I like... beds." I like beds?! "I just didn’t know if it would be okay...”

“It’s okay,” Dallon assured him. Brendon nodded awkwardly, and Dallon did too, and he laid down on his back witha heavy sigh, patting the spot beside him.

Brendon plopped down on the bed and let his gaze shift toward the stars, recalling what Dallon had told him about making wishes and hoping for the best. His life had been a cacophony of eleven eleven wishes and eyelashes and wishbones and even stars, but the plastic ones were pretty new to him. So as Dallon laid beside him quietly with his eyes shut, the day had been long and he was tired, Brendon watched him carefully, holding his breath.

He always seemed to be holding his breath, these days.

He watched the way his chest rose and fell with his breathing, the way thin lips were ever so slightly ajar, the tiny hoop on his nose and how his hair hung off one side and fell in his face. With his bottom lip worrying in between his teeth, Brendon glanced up at the stars and closed his eyes. If the real ones didn’t work, then those would have to.

Brendon sat at the head of Dallon's bed and did his history homework with Dallon laying beside him on the bed that afternoon, humming along to some stupid jingle that was stuck in his head. Every once in a while Brendon would bump his socked toes against Dallon's arm or side, laughing quietly, and Dallon would just grin and start again, like a cycle. It was just on the edge of not fraught with confidence and not entirely awkward, this thing between them. But it was an evolution all the same.

At some point Brendon had not so ceremoniously pushed his finished homework off the bed and onto the floor by his backpack, he'd pick that up later, and went to grab the Movie List from where Dallon had pinned it up on the wall. He chose one out and grabbed Dallon's laptop from the desk, logged on himself as he shamelessly remembered the passcode, before settling on his stomach beside Dallon on the bed.

Halfway through the first movie, Dallon seemed to remember: "My mom isn't home, you know." He said, and Brendon turned to look at him, their shoulders brushing. "We can watch this on the TV."

"You should have said so, dork." Brendon shoved his shoulder with a laugh, only grinned when Dallon said it had slipped his mind. Brendon ran down the hallway, a sucker for socks on wood floors, and Dallon watched him slide around like a little kid before he snuck into the kitchen, riant laughter floating in the air like this was the most fun he'd ever had. And maybe it was, but he would never admit it.

He wouldn't mention the fact that he and Dallon sat side by side on the couch just by chance. He wouldn't mention that they were so close that every few minutes Brendon would bump his foot against Dallon's where it was propped up on the coffee table, or that Dallon would turn to him and laugh, call him a nerd, kick him right back. He wouldn't mention that when he knew Dallon wasn't looking, he was casting secret glances at him, smiling to himself and blushing when he looked away, either.

When they'd made it through two movies and Dallon's mom had long since arrived home, Dallon got up to clean up the empty snack bags from the table, declining dinner because who knew Cheetos were so filling? Brendon knew he promised his mom that he would eat a real meal, but, well. They still had breakfast, anyway. Breakfast. The night. Dallon's bed. Brendon got up from the couch to thank Dallon's mom for letting him stay the night, she waved it off like no big deal, and Dallon nodded a head toward his room.

Without bothering to wait for Brendon, Dallon crawled underneath his covers and stretched out with a groan. Brendon bit his lip, why did the idea of sharing a bed with him make him feel so fluttery, and Dallon raised his eyebrows to ask what he was waiting for. But Brendon didn't know, exactly. He wanted to cross those invisible lines with Dallon, but... it didn't seem all that possible anymore.

“Come on.” Dallon insisted upon the look of clear hesitation, and Brendon didn't even really mean to look at him like that. It was just that he was scared. What if he did something embarrassing? "Unless you wanna, like, sleep standing up."

"No. Um. That would probably be uncomfortable." He said quietly. Dallon smiled in amusement, and okay, he was joking, right. So Brendon tugged his glasses off and set them down on Dallon's side table; it was probably for the best if he didn't see this, anyway.

Brendon was just getting used to Dallon, being around him in a casual setting, outside of the classroom and all the formalities. He didn't like those, anyway. And it was good, of course it was good, but now it wasn't just him and Dallon, two separate people. It was him and Dallon as one. In Dallon's house, in his room, in his bed. He had meant to take baby steps, but somewhere along the line he just forgot to. And he didn't know what this was, and he desperately wanted to.

Without a warning Dallon reached out to grab the apprehensive boy's hand and pulled him onto the bed in a way that would be so goddamn hot if Brendon wasn't trying to shut his hormones off. He rolled onto his back with a laugh, swore he was blushing, didn't care that he was. "Hey!"

“Hey.” Dallon leaned in a little, smiling shyly, and suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore. An inch away, two, maybe three, but he was close, it was intentional, it had to be, and what was Brendon doing? He stared up at Dallon and Dallon stared down at him, breathing quiet, and then something flickered in Dallon's eyes so fast that Brendon hardly saw. But it was there, and then Dallon wasn't, and he was back to the other side of the bed like he didn't know what had come over him. “Um. So, I’m sorry I’m not like, an exciting person to be around. I just kinda wanted to hang out some more, and I thought this would, like, be kinda fun. I like getting to know you."

Brendon shifted to sit up too, leaning on his elbow against the pillow, and he could feel the tension stretch between them. He could lean in, he could cut that right in half, he could settle things now. He could, but he wouldn't. “No. I had fun. You’re fun to be around.” He punched his bicep for good measure.

Dallon smiled. “You’re sweet.”

Brendon didn't know how to answer so he didn't, instead just smiled, debated touching his arm but decided against it. Instead he stretched out just like Dallon had done and laid down on his side at the same time that Dallon happened to, and they were suddenly close again, Brendon didn't care about personal space anyway, and he could kiss him. He could, if he wasn't too scared, or if he was confident that it wouldn't end in heartbreak or death, and he could do a lot of things but he wouldn't.

“Don’t you think it’s weird? That we’ve known each other for years but we just became friends? Through a project, no less? Not under all those other circumstances?"

“Well, how else are we supposed to become friends?" Dallon smiled, tilted his head to the side, lifted a shoulder where his collarbone was exposed over the hem of his tee shirt. "My mom won’t let me join those friend making websites.”

Brendon laughed, touching his own jawline aimlessly so that Dallon's gaze followed his fingers for a second before he met Brendon's eyes again. “I have news for you. Those aren’t for making friends.”

“Depends how you look at it.” Dallon smiled, dimples in his cheeks and crinkles in the corners of his eyes, and Brendon could get used to seeing that face before he fell asleep. He could get used to waking up to it, too.

"I guess you're right." Brendon offered, and it got quiet again, but comfortably quiet, and he leaned in a little, it was just that Dallon was warm and he was cold, was all. Dallon watched Brendon's eyes for a second, like he was trying to find something behind them, but there was nothing. It was just him watching Brendon watch him, completely silent and unstated.

And then, like it had suddenly occurred to him, Dallon tugged the covers up and gripped them tight, eyes slightly bigger like he had shocked himself. “Um, we should get some sleep.”

Brendon swallowed thickly. “Yeah, we should.”

“Okay.” Dallon reached over Brendon to click off the lamp on his side table, hovering over him so close that Brendon could see the way his throat moved when he swallowed, so close Brendon could tilt his head up and... and then Dallon shifted back in the dark to settle back down on the other side of the bed, and it took everything in Brendon not to cave. “Goodnight, Brendon.”

Brendon closed his eyes, body thrumming with nerves and on high alert. The room was dark, he wouldn't open his eyes again to see what he couldn't have, but he could feel it. Dallon's eyes on him, holding some meaning that Brendon wasn't sure how to detect. “Night.”

He squeezed his eyes shut hard and tried not to picture Dallon staring back at him.

* * *

Brendon woke up to the sound of music coming from a distant room in the apartment, somewhere off down the hall, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he glanced at the side of the bed that Dallon had been sleeping on. He'd woken up a few times during the night, listened to Dallon breathing quietly and squinting through the dark just because he couldn't help it, Dallon just looked so sweet, but now it was light and he was nowhere to be found. Brendon was enveloped in the comforter, and a milky tired ache lingered in his bones. Saturday, Dallon's home.

Longingly, Brendon dragged a lazy arm over the sheets, cool to the touch, in the spot that had once been occupied. Wondering when Dallon had left, where he had gone. He sat up and slid on his glasses to check his phone for the time and then, with a yawn, went to figure out the source of the music: the kitchen.

Brendon quickly discovered that Dallon Weekes singing and dancing around his kitchen with a spatula in hand to be used as a microphone ranked very high on his mental list of Very Good Things. Brendon leaned against the wall and beamed to himself while he watched the boy move his body to the beat of the song like he forgot the rest of the world existed, like he forgot that Brendon was asleep in his bed. It felt unreal. Ethereal, almost.

Dallon was singing along to the music coming out of his phone, strategically placed in a glass, bobbing his head and looking like he hadn't been up long. His hair was a mess and his glasses were on, still in his pajamas but wearing an energy that objectively no one had in the morning. He danced around carelessly, looking absolutely ridiculous, and only stopped when he heard an amused laugh from Brendon that he'd been biting back for a minute or two.

"Hey!" He turned around and pushed his glasses higher up on his nose; Brendon would have thought that he'd be the slightest bit embarrassed about how crazy he looked, dancing around the kitchen with that bedhead and wrinkled clothes, the opposite of how neat and put together he looked out in the world. But his grin never faltered, and Brendon's heart was beating fast. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"No, no, it's alright." Brendon walked over the threshold of the kitchen and slid into a seat at the island. It was a nice thing to wake up to, Dallon's voice. He turned to look at him, speculating, but Brendon promised, "I swear. My body never lets me sleep long, anyway."

"Oh. Okay. You looked tired, so I wanted to let you sleep. You seem like you need it sometimes." Dallon held up the spatula and waved it around, and some sense of domesticity bubbled in Brendon's chest, sudden and foreboding. He wanted this forever; he could do this. Maybe it wasn't so scary. Maybe it wasn't so impossible. "I'm making pancakes. I'm sure they're nothing compared to the diner's, but,"

"Pancakes are perfect. And hey, maybe if they're good enough, I'll offer you a job."

"Do you guys ever hire people that aren't Uries, anyway?" Dallon turned to check the pancakes, so Brendon inconspicuously and quite shamelessly looked over at his ass when he bent over. And then Dallon turned again, and oh, right, he had asked him a question, and Brendon sat up and cleared his throat, a distraction from his blush. Dallon leaned against the counter, a hip popped out, and really, Brendon had the right to look.

"Oh. No. My dad thinks that it's best to have it be just the family. Friends screw you over, or so I've heard." Brendon shrugged, so Dallon raised his shoulders in a shrug as well. "There are enough of us, anyway. No point in hiring when you have a thousand kids to do the job."

Dallon let out a quiet laugh. "Yeah, well. My mom has had some pretty untrustworthy business partners. Your dad is a smart man." He flipped the pancakes with ease, and then again, maybe he could work in the diner. Working with Dallon could certainly have its benefits. But, well, Brendon was kind of a mess at work, and he couldn't keep dropping glasses and the coffee pot and spilling drinks all over the place. Dallon already made him flustered enough, and morning shifts with the soft scratch of his voice would be the death of him. "For the record, I'm not really the cook of the family. My mom does all that."

"And you're still feeding me." Brendon shook his head in mock-disappointment. "I knew this friendship would be toxic."

"Shut up." Dallon laughed, swatting at Brendon with the spatula. Brendon giggled, couldn't even help it, dodging it with his hands in defense, and maybe he caught that grin from Dallon before he returned to the stove. It made him look away, cheeks blooming red. "I get the terrible cook gene from my dad. He couldn't cook for his life. Once he almost burned down the house because he forgot that he put something in the oven. It took hours to clear all the smoke."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, both of my parents and all of my siblings can cook really well, duh, but I can't cook for shit."

Dallon looked over his shoulder at Brendon with a fond smile. "You work at a diner! You should really learn. That's gonna be your legacy."

Brendon started playing with his fingernails awkwardly, chipping the color off around the edges. He tended to hold off on painting them again until after Thanksgiving, when the judgmental half of his relatives were gone. They never cared for him, anyway, but some parts of his life were different than this one. Half of him was dichotomous to the other. And that half was locked back up in the closet, because not everybody understood. He chipped another piece off, and Dallon watched, said nothing about it. "Considering the fact that I have four older siblings, I'm probably not inheriting the diner."

"It'd be a cool thing to get, though." Dallon opened up the cabinet to pull out some plates, and Brendon tilted his head up to watch him. "Like a family heirloom."

"That‘s nerdy." Brendon accused, and Dallon flipped the pancake onto a plate with a dorky smile over his shoulder. it wasn't just that he was funny, anyone could fall for that, but talking to him felt so... easy. Like the past few years hadn't happened, like people had never once been the catalyst to Brendon's fear. It was a thought that made his head spin a little, one that didn't quite fit in his mind yet, but he wasn't scared of Dallon. Nervous, maybe, but not because of what he was capable of. Just what he and Brendon were capable of.

With everyone else he was cautious; he had to be. With Dallon that all kind of seemed to be thrown to the wind.

"Yeah? I'm a nerd." Dallon placed the plate in front of Brendon and flashed him an award-winning grin that was meant to be a joke, but Brendon’s heart swelled. No, this was nothing to be scared of.

"Thanks." He gratified quietly, he hadn't meant to be quiet, but something caught in his throat and he was suddenly so warm. Dallon nodded, moving to the fridge to grab the syrup. "Hey, you know you have a really nice voice."

"No I don't." Dallon laughed modestly and turned away from him again. A soft pink competed with his pale skin and he was smiling like he wasn't used to it. He should have been used to it. But Dallon always did it, looked away at a compliment, avoided the subject of himself. Brendon knew because he did it too. "Want some coffee?"

"I'd love some." Brendon accepted politely and thought not to push it, self-consciousness was to be carefully and narrowly avoided. But, well. Brendon was never one to avoid much of anything. "And yes you do. Seriously. You've got some real all-around talent."

"Well, thank you. That's sweet." Dallon poured some coffee from the coffee pot into both mugs while he tried to hide his face, but Brendon caught sight of his rosy cheeks when the boy went to slide the mug to him. He said nothing, didn't even let himself smile, but he saw it. He made him blush. "So, last night I had this dream where I was in this dark building with no one in it, but like, there was this one thing and I don't know if it was a ghost or something, but it definitely wasn't a person, and it was trying to tell me something but I couldn't hear it, because everything sounded distorted. But I think it was trying to tell me something, I can't help but feel."

"Huh. Maybe he was trying to tell you that you're about to embark on a very long and fatuous journey. But the crystal ball wasn't clear, and you couldn't see it. It's a metaphor, right? Maybe that life is unpredictable." He suggested, half smiling. Maybe Dallon's dream ghost was trying to tell him something.

"Maybe." Dallon laughed brightly, getting the cream out of the fridge for his coffee. "So, what are we doin' today, Urie?"

Brendon hummed, tapping his fingernails against the mug to create a steady rhythm. Neither one of them had mentioned it, but it was there. If one of them didn't ask then the other did, a perfect establishment of your time is mine. And neither would mention it, in fact, not for the next few months. It was a steady line they were walking, after all. "Well, I'm working at three, but I'm not busy until then."

"Well," Dallon took a seat across from Brendon and offered him a hopeful smile, "I was thinking macarons."

Brendon smiled back, but Dallon's cheeks were still flushed and Brendon was warm all over now, sitting across from him and sneaking glances when Dallon wasn't looking. He wanted to tell him not to be nervous; it was just him. It was just a little compliment. He was just trying to tell him what he deserved to hear. But he couldn't— he couldn't say all that, so he just kept that smile plastered on his face. Maybe one day. "You read my mind."

The air outside was cool and Dallon turned up the heat as Brendon settled in the passenger seat, tugging at his seatbelt and humming along to the overplayed song on the radio. Dallon took the backroads, the main ones just weren't spontaneous enough for him, but Brendon laughed when Dallon said it, like it was some stupid declaration of how he never did anything orthodox. There were parts of the city that neither had ever bothered to explore, the same parts where they ended up finding themselves lost instead of found. But they laughed, turned the music up anyway, and Brendon wanted to kiss him but he bit his lip instead. Overplayed, maybe, but nothing about Dallon was.

Back on the main roads, Dallon twisted the radio down and Brendon did the heat, turning to grin at Dallon like he just couldn't help it. Like some Saturday morning in the middle of November was turning out to be the best day of his life. And in the driver's seat, Dallon smiled back, this irrefutable warmth in his eyes, and he made up stories about the places they passed by. It was just a quirk that he had and Brendon found himself doing it too, because with Dallon it was hard not to.

Dallon bought the macarons and Brendon claimed a table, the same table, and when he set the plate down Brendon began to sort the macarons into different categories according to flavor and color. Dallon watched in amusement for a minute, observing the way Brendon pushed them to the side and then into the correct corners of the plate, and said nothing. But his quiet gaze wasn't making Brendon nervous like anybody else's would, it wasn't impatient with him. Just curious. Dallon was allowed to be curious.

And Dallon sat patiently across from him, watching and waiting while Brendon did his thing, taking sips of his soda through the straw and playing with the little bubbles on the cap that had yet to be pushed down. His index finger pushed one in, and it made a little popping noise. “Hey, Bren?”

“Hm?” Brendon finished his sorting and sat back to take a sip of his own drink, eyes still on the plate, giving it a once-over. He was only half paying attention, having to make sure that everything was perfect before either he or Dallon touched it.

“What’s up with that?” Dallon pointed a finger at the organized cookies on the plate and Brendon looked up at him. “The whole organizing thing? You do it a lot.”

He shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, anyway. Had he been doing it a lot? He never noticed. “Um, I have some sort of... compulsion. It's not like, OCD or anything, but it's just... I have this weird thing where I have to put everything into a category or something. Y'know, like, compartmentalizing. It just makes me uncomfortable if I don’t.”

"Ah," Dallon half smiled in amusement and quipped, “so your room and your backpack...?”

“It's not like that, dork.” Brendon balled up his straw wrapper and threw it at Dallon with a scrunched-up nose, urging a riant laugh. “That’s a stereotype, you know. That compulsive people need to be neat. A common misconception. And besides, it barely affects me. It’s just this thing I’ve done since I was little to make sense of everything around me. The doctors think it might be OCD, but I think it’s just a weird tick or something. I had a lot of problems growing up, so they take everything I do seriously.”

“So you started it and do it consciously, then?”

He nodded. “Yeah. When I was a kid, I would read all these books about animals and then I would go to the zoo and see that unlike the talking animals in the book, the ones in the zoo weren’t all mixed together and friendly. That misconception really bothered me. I guess before I even knew I was doing it, I was sorting my stuffed animals so that where they were made sense. I guess I just found that easier, it eased my anxiety, so I started to do it with everything.”

“Huh.” Dallon nodded pensively but didn't press further. Brendon nodded too, he didn't quite catch the point of interest, but Dallon just leaned forward and went to grab a cookie, half lost in his thoughts and Brendon wasn't even going to try to make guesses. He second guessed himself, though, and then paused to ask, “I can take one, right?”

“Yeah. Go ahead.” Brendon smiled warmly and grabbed one of the macarons from the plate. “Sorry. It’s really not that serious.”

“Nah, I don’t mind.” Dallon sat back and took a bite of the macaron he’d chosen, a pink one with raspberry filling. “You’re interesting, Brendon.”

“You’re nice, Dallon.” The words said themselves, but he meant it just as much.

* * *

Brendon's eyes had a mind of their own sometimes and it wasn't his fault that when he got to school, they just happened to wander toward that general vicinity where Dallon and his friends stood at Josh's car every morning. He climbed out of his father's car that morning, thanked him for the ride, and almost immediately an excited Tyler was grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the school, away from the parking lot, and no, that wouldn't do.

Brendon muttered a hello, tired from a sleepless night, and kept up with his fast pace as he turned to look at Dallon, standing against the hood like he always did, arms folded and smiling. And maybe it was something his friends had said or maybe not, but he was looking at Brendon too, unobstructed and clear. It wasn't like it had been before, an awkward internal battle of oh my god, why is he looking at me. It was just second nature. They shared a warmhearted smile, and then Brendon disappeared into the school with Tyler’s hand wrapped around his forearm.

“May I help you?” Brendon yanked his arm back and rubbed it with a pout. Tyler was getting so weirdly strong these days.

“Get this. Josh asked me to be his boyfriend. Like, in real life, not in my dreams.”

Brendon stopped and turned to look at him with wide eyes. He'd been so occupied with Dallon lately, he'd almost completely forgotten. “Holy shit, really?!" Grinning, he nodded. "When? How? Tell me everything!”

Tyler nodded frantically like it was taking everything in him not to explode. “We were hanging out Saturday night, and we went on this fucking amazing date to this restaurant downtown, you know, the one with the lights outside, and he asked me to be his boyfriend and I was like, fuck yes, I've been waiting two years.”

Brendon grinned, pulling him into a hug right there in the middle of the hallway. “That’s amazing. I’m so happy for you. You have a boyfriend.”

“I know!" He pulled away, smiling too much. "Now it’s your turn, tiny. Ask him out. We need boyfriends together. This is middle school us's dream. We need to go on double dates. Brendon, please."

“Now that is something that’ll only happen in your dreams." They continued down the hall. "But he was actually really sweet this weekend. We keep having these weird moments that are so full of tension and it feels like we’re gonna kiss until we don’t and I have absolutely no idea what’s going on. I can’t tell if he likes me or if I’m just imagining it or what.”

Now that he was saying it out loud, it sounded ridiculous. Dallon didn’t like him. Dallon couldn’t like him. Dallon was Dallon. And Brendon... was, well, Brendon. Tyler turned to look at him, shaking his head like that was all trivial. “He has to like you. What’s not to like? I mean, I like you, and I’m very picky with my men.”

“Ew.” Brendon crinkled his nose up in disgust and smacked Tyler’s arm, making him laugh and look away again. “Gross. Don’t refer to me as a man. I’m not even sure I’m fully through puberty yet.”

“I know, Brenny bear, you’re still having wet dreams about your little crush. That’s okay! Jerk off all you need, and soon enough, you’ll have him to do it for you. It's only a matter of time.”

That got him a full elbow in the rib cage. “Ew! No. No, I am never... no. That's never gonna happen, and I don't... I don't need to think about that right now. Or ever." He eyed him dangerously. "You're gross."

“So I’ve been told.” Tyler grinned cheekily, and, well, Brendon didn't expect him to ever censor himself, anyway. “Now, little Urie, let me give you every single detail of my date. I expect you to do the same.”

“It wasn’t a date,” Brendon argued, but with Tyler there were no concessions. He turned to look at him, eyebrows raised like that was the most nominal detail, and, well, he was probably right. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you all about it.”

Brendon had a routine, a set one that rarely changed. Get up, go to school, go to work, lay in bed and stare at his ceiling. It was... comfortable. Comfort was important. But when Dallon stepped into Brendon’s life like a strike of lightning, there was a distinct change in routine, a significant shift. Brendon's plan had been set out since he was young, he left a trail that everybody was expected to follow. But then Dallon showed up, Brendon's own personal rule breaker. He'd moved so far beyond the trail that Brendon had so exigently left.

His world had been thrown off its axis and was spinning sideways at a million miles an hour, but he was getting used to the speed of change, anyway. Dallon was completely altering his life. And, well, he couldn't tell if he was supposed to welcome it; anything out of his comfort zone was a red flag. All his life he'd been afraid of change, he'd tried to avoid it, but... this change was different. This was just what he needed. Something he hadn't known he needed, either.

Brendon stepped out of his history classroom with Dallon by his side, buoyant grins still prominent on their faces from the intriguing class discussion turned heated debate. They were still casually chatting about what they’d been talking about during class, luckily on the same side of a very controversial argument, but even when the conversation faded Dallon didn’t seem to want to stray. The silence lingered for a moment, Dallon biting his lip, and then he turned to look at Brendon with finality.

“So, I know you were probably just saying it to be nice, but would you actually wanna come to the place where I volunteer Saturday? It’s just working with kids, nothing stressful, kind of fun.” He was moving his hands around when he talked, a nervous tick. "You don't have to come, it's kind of a stupid idea, but-"

Brendon nodded enthusiastically in interruption. “Sure, I’d love to. I’ll ask if I can take off work.”

Dallon shook his head guiltily. “Oh, don’t skip work because of me. You can come on a day you’re not working.”

“No, trust me, I need an excuse to get out of it.” Brendon crossed his heart, and Dallon let out a lighthearted laugh at the honesty. Working on a Saturday morning was no fun, and Brendon could use a break, anyway. He was working every day this week, and, well. Dallon playing with kids? It was worth it.

“At least you’re being honest. I’ll pick you up, then, if you can go. Let me know.” He rested a hand on Brendon’s shoulder to warn him of his departure, and Brendon nodded once more, feeling heat rise to his cheeks at the simple touch. Just friends. Friends, friends, friends. “Bye.”

“Bye!” Brendon waved until Dallon disappeared into his next classroom, and he ducked into his physics room with red cheeks and a smile on his face. Friends, but at least it was something.

He wasn't sure when Dallon had begun to walk him to class, but Brendon was kind of enjoying the way Dallon could make him blush in the short span of time between history and physics. It was kind of an internal contest, actually, who could make who blush first. Dallon didn't know it, but Brendon always lost.

Ty: why are you smiling Brendon Gay Urie did you finally get a boyfriend did Dallon Also Gay Weekes wife you up

Brendon glanced up, and Tyler twisted in his seat to wiggle his eyebrows like he had eyes everywhere and Brendon knew it. And he did, and he wasn't surprised, because in the halls sometimes he could see Tyler grinning to himself like he was conspiring something. Brendon noticed, but he pretended not to. If this was going to happen, it was going to take time. Brendon had a lot of that.

Urie: no but he asked me to hang out this weekend and he’s so cute ?? he volunteers with kids and he asked me to go with him tbh I swear he could ask me to like plow crops and I would do it

Ty: that’s not the only thing y’all could be plowing ;)

Urie: oh my god

Urie: you’re absolutely right but oh my god

Ty: let me know how it goes then

Urie: will do, boss

Tyler turned around again, smiling sinisterly but with good intentions. Brendon smiled back, a confident smile like he was just now realizing that he could do this, and Tyler winked before his gaze was directed elsewhere. He glanced up to greet his boyfriend with a smile, just like Brendon would do if he and Dallon were... well, anything, and Brendon rolled his eyes, but he was smiling nonetheless. New couples.

Ty: you're gonna kill this, kid

Brendon smiled down at his phone, because yeah. Maybe he would.


	7. Chapter 6: Invincible, if Only for a Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment if you like it!!! it gives me motivation :)

Brendon was able to get the morning shift off so that he could accompany Dallon to the rec center he volunteered at every once in a while to see where all the magic happened. He picked him up at the diner and explained on the way that he wasn't important, just facilitated the arts and crafts sessions, but Brendon waved him off, of course Dallon was important. He was putting a little color into the world. Dallon had blushed when Brendon said it, looked away and rolled his eyes. But the sincerity was all there, seeded in his smile.

“Dallon!” A few children that couldn’t have been older than eight years old greeted when he and Brendon stepped into a colorful little room with tables lined on top of a rainbow button patterned rug. Colorful plastic bins held craft supplies, on shelves over cubbies for the children's lunchboxes and jackets. Brendon stepped back to observe it, away from the attention. Nervous for no reason, feeling out of place.

“Hey, you guys.” He opened his arms to accept their hugs, patting the backs of a few, each with a name tag and a sloppily written name. “This is my friend Brendon. He’s gonna make some turkeys with us today!” He enthused, colorful and riant, in that talking-to-children voice that made Brendon smile when he looked down at his feet. It was different than his Dallon, the one who never properly let his enthusiasm seep entirely through. But here he was, shining.

“Hi.” He greeted timidly, forcing a smile when the children waved to him fervently. Dallon wrapped an arm around his back and placed a steady hand in between his shoulder blades, Brendon could feel the touch heavy through his shirt, as he led him toward the curator on the other side of the room.

She had been flipping through the sign in sheets when Dallon tapped her arm to get her attention. She turned, a kind looking woman with a few decades on her but youthful green eyes. “Dallon, I’m glad you could make it today!”

“Yeah! I brought a friend, too. This is Brendon Urie. Brendon, this is Lauren, she’s the one who runs the group.” Dallon introduced them breezily, more confident now that he was in a place he knew well, and Brendon shook her hand with a tremulous one of his own.

“It’s nice to meet you, Brendon.”

“You too, ” Brendon peeped, voice too quiet but understandably so, as being in new places with strangers made him apprehensive. He was surprised he hadn't stuttered one of the two words he spoke. Still, Dallon kept him close to him, felt his presence vibrating with nerves.

“Are you any good with kids?”

“I, um, I don’t really know. I’m never around them.” He answered timidly, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“I just wanted to show him where I volunteer. He can be crafty. I believe in him.” Dallon nudged Brendon in the side playfully and replaced his hand on his back to guide him toward the bins. Lauren smiled, told Brendon to just relax and have fun, so he was going to try. “You ever make a hand turkey?”

Dallon’s sudden question made Brendon snap out of his weird uncomfortable headspace and nod. “Yeah. Um. When I was little.”

“Well, good. Then you won’t have to listen to the instructions. And listen, Urie." He leaned in close, making Brendon's breathing catch in his throat. ”They're eight-year-olds. You don't have to be so nervous." He pulled away, laughing buoyantly, and Brendon guessed he was right. They were just kids; not exactly a catalyst for fear. “Can you carry a bin to one of the tables for me?”

“Sure.” Brendon did as he was told, chose one full of colored feathers, and Dallon blindly picked up a bin of Crayola markers.

He set it down on the table parallel to Brendon's and repeated the motion, back and forth until each bin was on a table and the shelves were empty. Lauren gathered the kids and Brendon grabbed the paper towels, particularly wary of any glue related incidents, and they all scrambled to find seats whereas Dallon saved two at the end of the table and directed Brendon to sit. Brendon did, don't be nervous, they're just kids, Dallon's smile, childish glee in his eyes, and Dallon paced as he began his spiel.

Brendon began to plan his hand turkey with the excitement of an eight-year-old child, collecting his materials from the bins and smiling to himself because he was there and he may as well have some fun. He started to sort out the decorations into categories by color and type, and had just begun to place a blue feather next to the rest of the blue feathers when a tiny finger tapped his arm.

When Brendon turned to look at the little boy beside him with an eyebrow quirked, he asked, “What’s your name?”

“Brendon,” Brendon answered, tone sketched with a nicety reserved for children younger than him but older than a toddler. “What’s yours?”

“Marcus.”

Brendon nodded slowly. “Marcus, I like that. You know my cousin has a pet turtle named Marcus.”

The boy’s eyes lit up like it was the best news he’d ever heard. “Really?”

Brendon smiled, wished he could have the zest for life of a child. “Yeah. It’s hard to believe, I know.”

Marcus watched Brendon add a yellow feather to the pile of other yellow feathers curiously. When he caught Brendon’s eye, he pointed a finger at the perfectly sorted piles that Brendon had cultivated over the course of Dallon’s instructions. “How come you’re doing that?”

“Oh. I don't know. They look messy when they’re not organized into groups that make sense, y’know? I don’t like it.”

Marcus sat back and contemplated that for a moment like it was just so damn insightful before he bounced back into his bubbly disposition and plucked a green pom pom from the pile of materials in front of him. “Then I’ll do it too!”

Brendon smiled respectfully at him as the seat across from him slid out and then back in. And when Brendon glanced up Dallon was smiling at him like he'd been eavesdropping, this warm, indecipherable smile, like he had seen into the future, like Brendon just had no idea. And he didn't, but he smiled back anyway, because there were things that Dallon didn't know either. “How ya doin’ Urie?”

“Well,” Brendon gestured toward his almost completely organized piles, “I’m getting there.”

“Brendon showed me how to organize things,” Marcus chimed in. Dallon laughed, observing the comparatively messy pile beside Brendon's neat one, and Brendon shrugged in a what can you do manner when he glanced up at him.

“That's neat! If you need any help with anything else, you let me know, okay?” He nodded. “Okay.” He turned back toward Brendon, who pulled his construction paper in front of him and grabbed at his blue marker. Dallon watched him for a second, uncapping the marker, sticking the cap on the end, and then he collected his own materials, looking away shyly when Brendon couldn't see.

“So, you do this kind of stuff all the time?” Brendon began tracing the shape of his hand on the paper. “Just hang out and do art with kids?”

“Yeah. It’s not curing cancer or anything, but hey. It's fun. I’m inspiring today’s youth.”

“I think you’re doing an excellent job.” Brendon nodded his head toward the child beside him, who had begun to trace his own hand with vehemence, bumpy, crooked lines sketched out on colored construction paper.

Dallon let out a quiet laugh while Brendon mimicked him, tracing lines around his fingers, and, well. The whole craft thing, while it was primarily meant for eight-year-olds, was kind of cathartic. Dallon had said it once, anything could be if you wanted it to, and anything was better than staying home and staring at his ceiling, anyway. He looked up every once in a while, glanced at the perfectly construed turkey on Dallon's paper compared to his own messy one, probably uglier than any of the children's, but it was his and it was going up on the fridge anyway.

As Dallon gathered the papers and set them out to dry the glue, Lauren corralled the children into the playground outside before lunchtime. Against the fence sat a lone wooden bench, away from the noise and the frantic children, so Brendon took a seat and tucked his hands in between his thighs to unearth some type of warmth. With a half smile, quietly dazed look on his face, he watched some children start a game of tag.

Why was it that little kids liked playing tag so much? Brendon never understood. It was just kids in a frenzy trying to run around to catch other kids. Maybe it was the exhilaration of it, maybe it was the adrenaline that made the chase fun, but it was about trying to catch what didn't want to be caught. Brendon never wanted any of that, he had enough of it in his own life. But the thrill was beyond him.

All of a sudden Dallon took a seat beside him, folded his arms over his chest with his legs kicked out, nudged him in the side. Brendon wondered when he had made it outside. "You okay, Urie?"

Brendon nodded. "I'm fine. This is cute. You're good with them."

Dallon bumped his shoulder against Brendon’s modestly. “Thanks. You are too, you know. Marcus seems to like you.”

Brendon laughed, because conversation with children always left him thinking. He had asked a thousand questions, how was Brendon supposed to know why a turkey was called a turkey, he was pretty sure they weren't from the country Turkey but he honestly couldn't be sure, and he didn't actually know if there were rainbow turkeys somewhere out there, either. Could be. But that was the thing about children. They asked questions no one else thought to ask, made you think. It was kind of like how Dallon had that effect on him, except a lot more maturely. Made him think, but never had answers himself. “He’s adorable.”

At the sound of Brendon’s laugh, Dallon let himself smile. “Between you and me, he’s one of my favorites. So inquisitive, y’know? He’s always asking questions. Trying to figure out everything that’s going on around him. Reminds me of you.”

Brendon turned to look at him solemnly while he stared out at the playing children, his vision focused in on a corner of the park where all the kids were digging their heels into the dirt, looking for worms. Brendon and Tyler used to do that together all the time during their youth. “When’d you start volunteering?”

Dallon stalled for a second, twisting the ring on and off his finger. “After my dad died. I don’t know why I really decided to do it, but a couple of months after, I started school again in the fall and I wanted to try something new. Something that could benefit me positively after having spent half the summer doing stupid shit and the other half locked away in my room avoiding everyone I loved. My mom suggested I help out with kids, so I decided to do it, and every time I spend the afternoon here, I go home feeling a little better. Kids their age are a lot different than teenagers. Don’t get me wrong, having intelligent conversation with people your own age is great, but there’s something about the innocence of children that gets me."

Brendon turned a little, pulled a knee to his chest. "Yeah? Why's that?"

"I don't know. It’s their raw creativity, their unsaturated happiness, the way they embrace the world because it’s all they know how to do. On the first anniversary of my dad’s death, I was here. Something struck me the wrong way, things always do, so this little girl named Madison, or Maddie, we call her, she let me hold her stuffed unicorn until I felt better. She was six years old at the time, but she sat with me and let me talk to her and she listened. Really listened. A lot of people our age just pretend to listen and give you the default answer, you know? It’ll get better, hang in there, but you don’t believe it because that’s what they’re conditioned to say. This little kid was telling me that she was sorry and she hoped I would feel better. She said that her unicorn hoped I would feel better too. There’s something about the way a kid comforts you. It’s unfiltered, it’s sweeter, it’s more precious than anything else.”

Brendon turned back toward the playground, thinking too hard about things he didn't know about. “I get what you mean.” He squinted his eyes under his glasses. “Is she still here? Maddie?”

“Yeah. She’s right over there.” He pointed to a little girl with a pink dress on, holding up a worm that she’d plucked from the ground. Brendon laughed, he couldn't help it, and Dallon looked at him fondly. Fond in a way that Brendon didn't quite catch, but it was all the same, comprehensible or not.

“It all reminds me of being a kid. You never had to stress out about college and homework and having a job and friends and liking people. You don’t think about any of that. You just kinda hang out and play pretend cause you wanna grow up. Did you ever do that? Play pretend when you were a little kid?”

Dallon nodded, eyebrows furrowed pensively. “Yeah, of course. When I was young, Ryan and I used to play in his parents’ room whenever I went to his house when his dad wasn't home, which at this one point was pretty much every day. Us and his siblings would dress up in their parents’ clothes and pretend we were adults and everything, we used to look forward to it and now I’m like, kind of an adult, and it’s so much more stressful than using a fake credit card to buy plastic fruit with that fake cash register toy every kid has, you know?”

Brendon laughed again, nodding because he knew it all too well. “Dude, I know exactly what you mean. I used to put on my mom’s heels and jewelry and makeup. That shoulda clued me into thinking I was gay, but that’s beside the point." They both laughed, and Dallon turned to look at him again. "I would dress up and then play with my siblings like we were these business owners or something, I don’t remember. But we would think so badly that we just wanted to be adults like our parents. I never thought about anything external to my own life at the time. Working at the diner like my parents did. Falling in love and drinking coffee and crossing the street alone. It seemed so simple at the time. I wish I had listened when everyone told me not to grow up too fast.”

“Me too.” Dallon reached out and rested a hand on Brendon’s thigh. It was a friendly gesture, one that meant nothing, but Brendon didn’t dare move. And suddenly it wasn't so palpable anymore, a line between friends and that was all. This was all rooted deep in his heart now, with nowhere else to grow. This had become too deep so fast. “But I guess we have to grow up. Times change and we change with them.”

“If only we could turn back time and tell ourselves to cherish childhood.” Brendon sighed.

Dallon nodded slowly in a don't I know it kind of way, and Brendon's body tensed up when he pulled his hand away to push it through his hair. “Yeah. If only.” He pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his hands.

He stared unseeingly out at the kids in the playground, where a boy was throwing a worm at another and laughing wildly like it was the funniest thing in the world. Brendon wondered how the worms felt being whipped at random kids that had plucked them out of their homes in the ground, but then again they were capable of growing half their bodies back. They probably weren’t very sentient, and probably not against being thrown just for the sheer pleasure of kids.

"You said that your parents don't hire people that aren't Uries."

Brendon turned to look at him, eyebrows furrowed. "Huh?"

Dallon nodded his head toward him but didn't look away from where his gaze lingered. "You told me a few weeks ago that you and all your siblings had to start working at the diner when you turned sixteen. And last weekend, when I asked if you ever hire people that aren't in the family, you said no. But you mentioned once that you've lived in your house your whole life. What did you do before Kara turned sixteen? Did you hire other people?"

Brendon looked down at his lap, blinking in thought. It was like... it was like he remembered everything Brendon said. Did he? He was grasping at straws, but it had become such a visceral matter of every touch meaning something. Every smile, every glance. Every conversation, too.

"Oh. No. Um, my dad started working at the diner when he was sixteen. He was in high school; it was named something else back then. The Metro, I think, I don't really remember. But he became good friends with the man who owned the place. He started out bussing tables and washing dishes but when he was in his twenties, they started to let him cook. He got really good at it, kept the job for a really long time. He'd been living in the house upstairs, renting it, cause he had nowhere else to go. But when Kara turned seventeen, the guy retired, wanted my dad to take it. He renamed it Urie's, had Kara start working there, and my mom quit her job to help out. We had a few other people working at first, my dad's coworkers, but people grow out of jobs. Especially a diner job in this city. It just kind of naturally became a family business."

"Is that why you were born into a litter?"

Brendon laughed quietly, shrugging. "I don't know. Maybe. I've lived in that house my whole life, though, it's just now my parents own it and don't rent it. It was a really big deal when I was a kid. But I got along really well with the people who worked there, they'd help me with my homework and give me free food and watch me when everyone was working."

"That's sweet." Dallon's voice was lost somewhere, like it had been caught around something else in his throat. Brendon turned again, because he wasn't going to play the guessing game. He couldn't anymore.

Brendon nodded; a lot of things were sweet. The Metro and childish smiles over nominal arts and crafts, Halloween candy and soft skin and pretty blue eyes that caught the light in a way that made them look like glass. Dallon was sweet, too. That was what got them here in the first place. “Thank you for inviting me, Dal. I like this a lot. I can see why you do it, you do so well with them. They seem to love you.”

Dallon didn’t answer, not right away, instead just dipped his head to look in Brendon’s eyes. Long and daunting, like he needed to see him suddenly, like something was hidden beyond brown irises. But nothing was there, just a boy and a past and not a clue. “You’re welcome. I value your company. I’m really glad you came. It's nice to be around things like this, and it made me think of you. I thought you would like it.”

Heat pressed to his cheekbones, and he reached up to rub the lens of his glasses with his sleeve. He was grasping at straws. He knew that. But... “Why’d that make you think of me?”

Dallon shrugged like it was nothing, just a thought passing through. “I don't know. You’re one of those people. I’ve been talking to you for a couple of weeks and even within that short span of time you've come off as someone who listens. And I'm not saying that my friends don't listen, because they do, but... I don't know. It feels different with you. Like this is something I know you'll feel more deeply, because there's more to this than just me teaching kids how to glue feathers on paper. It's something that was like... this remedy to a point in my life where I felt like nobody was listening to me. You always listen to me. And when I came here for the first time, I felt like I needed someone to listen, and they did. And you... you make me feel like someone is listening."

Brendon looked down at his lap, thought it over and over again until it had been completely exhausted. Maybe he wasn't grasping at straws. Maybe everything was just flipped and this was all useless, because a needle in a haystack was still a needle in a haystack no matter what direction you look at it. Maybe he was thinking too hard about it, or maybe he wasn't thinking about it enough.

"I'm not scared of you." He said quietly to his lap, but Dallon's eyes burned on his cheeks and his lips and his throat when he swallowed. "All my life I've been scared of everyone. Not you. I think... I think you get me more than most people ever have. Or— or you try to get me. And that's still more than I can say about anybody else."

"I think you're right," Dallon whispered, and Brendon turned to look at him, and if his eyes flickered from Dallon's eyes to his lips then neither of them said anything, and then Dallon looked away, inhaling sharply. “Thank you for coming with me today, Bren. I know that this isn’t the most conventional place to hang out, but I wanted you to come and see what I do. I thought that you would like it, for whatever reason.” He looked down at his lap and laughed. "It's stupid."

“No, it's not. I actually had a lot of fun.” Brendon admitted, reaching out and then second guessing himself and placing his hand on the bench between them instead. Dallon looked up again, smiling sheepishly, and Brendon added, "I mean, my ego is sufficiently ruined, because a room full of eight-year-olds made better hand turkeys than me, but..."

They both laughed, leaning close to each other like it was entirely innate, had it been intentional, Brendon couldn't tell, and Dallon said, "I can give you private art lessons, how about that?"

"I'd like that," Brendon said, and he was almost shocked at his words, had meant them to be frivolous, no roots in his heart. But everything seemed to be spoken with sincerity, these days.

All of a sudden, all laughter died in his throat, closing around a confession. And with his gaze cast downward like he was hyperaware of what he was doing, Dallon moved his hand just the slightest bit to the left. And Brendon moved his to the right, not really sure what he was doing, and they didn't look at each other. But their cheeks were red, red, red, and almost tremulously Dallon put his pinky over Brendon's, nail polish all chipped off because his relatives would kill him if they knew, and linked them together innocently.

Dallon let out the quietest breath like it had taken everything in him, staring down at their hands in the cold air. The early autumn heat was beginning to blur into a bite, ubiquitous for this time of year. And at once they both looked up and straight ahead, staring out at the children playing, breathing slow and cautious. Blushing warmly, wide-eyed and pure.

They sat there side by side, Brendon's pinky looped around Dallon's like it was a promise neither would ever dare to whisper, and neither said a word.

* * *

Brendon watched his sneakers step in time with Dallon's across the pavement and through the diner, past the din of customers and his family and the afternoon rush. He waved hello to his father through the window to the kitchen and nodded at Matt and Kara before he led Dallon up the stairs, wanting to take no part in the buzz today. It was a high anxiety day, was all. The house was adorned with autumnal decorations for the company, Brendon sighed and didn't mention it, just kicked his shoes off in the front room and escaped upstairs, where he'd remain for the rest of the weekend until Monday rolled around again.

"So, what are we up to today, Urie?" Dallon asked upon setting his backpack down on Brendon's bed, hands on his hips and arching his back in a stretch.

Brendon shrugged, he hadn't thought much about it except that he had, and it had been buzzing in his veins for weeks. Self-expression. Dallon said it himself, didn't he? Brendon reached out to take his hand, not thinking but not not thinking, and Dallon startled. “I was thinking I’d paint your nails, if that’s okay with you?”

Dallon perked up. “That’s totally okay!”

“Awesome.” Brendon dropped his hand, grinning, and Dallon was beaming like he was trying to compete with the sun. Such a goddamn beautiful smile, and it was all for Brendon. "I’m gonna go get some nail polish then. It's in my sisters’ room. Do you want any specific color?”

“No, surprise me.” Dallon sat on the edge of the bed patiently, so Brendon went to snatch the box of nail polish bottles from Kyla and Kara’s room.

When Brendon returned with the heavy box of bottles, Dallon slipped off of the bed to join him on the floor as he set the box down and spilled it over in between them. Dallon smiled imperceptibly to himself, playing with the ring on his finger aimlessly as Brendon sorted the colors out by order of the rainbow, and neither of them said a word but Brendon knew. Dallon was being patient with him, letting him get out his nervous energy.

"Choose whatever you want. Except that weird hot pink, it's kinda ugly and it's really goopy and takes like, four days to dry."

"Ew," Dallon said, sketched through a laugh, and collected ten different bottles. Brendon watched him hoard them by his socked feet like treasure.

"All those?" Brendon asked, and Dallon nodded, grinning to himself childishly like it was a joke and he was messing with him as he picked out the ugliest neon green. "One for each nail?" Again, Dallon nodded. Oh, he was serious. He was seriously trying to be a rainbow. Brendon laughed, he was trying to get himself killed, or he was trying to make a statement, or he was just a child at heart, trying to make things a little brighter. "You're killing me, Weekes."

"You said to choose whatever I want," Dallon argued. And, well, he was biting back a grin and Brendon couldn't say no. He rolled his eyes but smiled, swore with that smile that he was playing, and he didn't know when they had developed the ability to speak without words but Dallon's smile was a gratification and he was offering his hand to Brendon. “So, when’d you start doing this?”

Brendon twisted the red nail polish open and began to paint Dallon’s left pinky, gingerly holding the extremity against his own. “When I was little, Kyla and Kara would dress me up like I was one of their dolls, they’d put my mom’s makeup on me and I would wear her heels and because I was so young, I was so docile. I never really cared, though. They explained to me that people expect boys not to do stuff like that, but I think painting your nails or wearing heels and makeup should be for anyone. I always liked what’s considered girly stuff, y’know?”

Dallon nodded, and Brendon didn't dwell on the thought long enough to be embarrassed. “I get it. I always wondered why gender roles are actually a thing. Who cares if you wanna wear uncomfortable shoes that make you taller? And who cares if you wanna darken your eyelids or put color on your lips or whatever? People should be allowed to do what they what. Do what makes you happy.”

He peeked up at Brendon over their hands and smiled again. Sometimes it felt so real, the purity laced in Dallon's smile. The way that Brendon could pretend there were no consequences, lean in and kiss him and act like it never happened. It felt so real, somehow, or maybe too unreal. Everything seemed so unreal lately. “Exactly.”

“But it sucks, because if you don’t follow them, you get attacked for it. That’s why there are so many hate crimes. Some gay people can pull off being straight and everything, but it’s not always that easy. If you’re flamboyant then you may as well be dead. I’m thankful that I live near Vegas, maybe if we were a few miles northwest then people at school wouldn't be as bad as they have been, but in some other parts of the world, it’s rough. Way rougher than here, anyway.”

Brendon nodded, twisted the red bottle closed and the orange bottle open. “I hear you. You can probably pull off straight though, if you really tried. I can’t. People say shit to me all the time. I’m just diner boy, the kid with the nail polish. They all assumed I was gay and they were right.”

“And if you don’t play football and date cheerleaders than you’re considered a faggot.” Dallon glanced up at him again, smile somehow vanished, and with disbelief Brendon met his eyes. He’d never heard that word coming from someone he knew and loved before. Only from hateful kids at school, only on a screen in front of tear-filled eyes, but never out of a pair of lips as beautiful and gentle and sweet as Dallon’s.

“Yeah.” Brendon swallowed thickly and looked back down at his fingers, trying hard not to let them shake. “That.”

“But I say fuck it." He added, and that was the thing about Dallon. He lived by his own rules and he just didn't care about anyone else's. That was rare, if you asked him. "If you wanna be flamboyant, then you should.”

“Yeah." Brendon let himself smile, if only it were that easy. He pushed the orange aside and opened up the yellow. "It’s just a matter of when and where, I guess.”

“True.” Dallon laughed a little bit, stretching out his fingers. “I still have a pair of silver sparkly jeans in my closet that I’m saving for a day where I’m not too scared to wear them.”

“Dude. In eighth grade I used to ride my bike with Tyler to the mall all the time, and I was just starting to figure out my sexuality and all that, so we went into this store and I really wanted to buy makeup. But I didn’t have money because we only went so Tyler could grab something after school, and I was too scared to ask my parents or siblings to buy me makeup, so I stole this cheap eyeliner. It was only like, a dollar. When I got home, I tried it on in my room and took a bunch of pictures of myself and then took it off. I never did anything with them, but I always really liked it. Makeup shouldn’t just be for girls.”

“Boys like to feel pretty too, sometimes,” Dallon added. Brendon nodded and moved on to the next color, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks when he realized what he’d said. Dallon made it too easy to be honest, was all. Made Brendon want to whisper every truth he'd ever hidden. And that was dangerous but there was a part of him that was starting not to care anymore. He couldn't decide if that was fatal or not, either.

“I never told anyone that.” He admitted, and Dallon laughed, actually laughed, but it wasn’t teasing or malicious. It was soft, like it was coming from somewhere deeper inside of him. It was something that Brendon would spend hours thinking about that night, the way he looked up at him with oceans in his eyes, the way Brendon wasn't scared of them. How he wasn't really scared of anything that Dallon did, or said, because he just... got it.

Dallon nudged Brendon’s knee with his sock-covered foot, and Brendon looked up at him again fondly. There was no use in being scared, anyway. “It’s not like I’m gonna make fun of you or anything, Urie. I’ve got my fair share of stories.”

He made a sweeping gesture with his hands. “Well, so it goes, that began my period of determining whether or not I was actually gay. I never wore it out, just around my room, but I loved that shit. I might wear it again one day, who knows?" He shrugged. "I mean, if I ever get the confidence. I probably won’t. It’s kind of embarrassing, being the boy with the guyliner.” He painted the next nail and then pushed the bottle to the side while Dallon lifted his hand and blew on it.

“Oh, please. Call it what it is. Pretty, pretty makeup.” Dallon half smiled and offered his other hand to Brendon, mildly reminiscent and ineffably gentle. “And I think you should do it. Wearing makeup isn’t embarrassing. It’s kind of sexy.”

Heat pressed to his cheeks and he didn't look up, wouldn't dare. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I like it. It's attractive. In a bold way. Like this,” Dallon wiggled his fingers suggestively, “I’m a total dude magnet.”

Brendon let out another laugh and dragged the edge of his nail against Dallon’s where he’d messed up and accidentally painted the skin. He glanced up for the quickest second, Dallon was biting his bottom lip through a smile, he'd indirectly called him sexy, and he mentioned liking guys again, and his hands were touching Brendon's and it had to be something. “You’re welcome, then.”

Dallon chuckled and held up his hand, a messy masterpiece that he appreciated nonetheless. “This is cool of you. Maybe we can do it more often.”

Brendon pushed his glasses up further on his nose and sighed a little. If only they could get away with it, if only he could live in a world where it was okay to have painted nails without being pushed in the halls or made fun of during lunch or class or, fuck, even when he was just washing his hands in the bathroom. “You probably don’t want that. People can be mean.”

“Well, you can’t get your feelings hurt if you don’t let what people say bother you, right?” And Dallon had a point. So what if people were mean to him? He had no reason not to wear makeup or nail polish. He could wear his mother’s heels or his sister’s necklaces. He could do whatever he damn well pleased.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Brendon smiled softly at the sudden realization that he could be invincible, if only for a moment. And that may not have been his reality because he'd lived thousands of days that proved it wrong, invincibility was idealistic and Brendon didn't do hypotheticals. But it was the thought that counted. Nodding still, he capped the bottle.

"Hey, you aren't doing yours?" Avoiding eye contact, Brendon shook his head. "No? Brendon, that totally defies the idea of painting your nails to fight against the man. Why not?"

He shrugged one shoulder idly, it didn't matter anyway. "Um, I have family coming over for Thanksgiving. And every year I kind of hold off on painting them until it passes. Cause, you know, they don't know I'm gay and they... they just wouldn't be happy if they knew, is all. I hate having to go back in the closet but it's just... it's one of those things. I don't want to but I have to, cause I'd rather hide who I am than be ridiculed for it."

"I get it." He said quietly. Brendon didn't know his story, his family and if they knew and when and why and how it all happened, but he knew Dallon got it. He knew. "Is that why you've been so on edge today? Your family?"

Brendon glanced up at him, eyebrows furrowed and heart pounding in his chest. It had been on his mind all week, sure, and maybe he was finding it a little harder to smile when he thought about the fact that he had to sit there at dinner and listen to his aunt say a prayer and thank God for having a family devoid of sin and sit in the living room, listening to her talk about the homosexual boys down at her church and ask why they even went to church when they were going to hell anyway.

He couldn't stop thinking about the way his little cousins asked if he had a girlfriend, and, well, why not, is it cause people don't like you? And he had to bite his tongue and keep from saying no, it's cause I'm just one of the faggots your mommy hates so much. Maybe he was trying not to think about the way his aunt whispered to his mother in the kitchen about God knows what, but the conversation always ceased when he entered the room. He had been so focused on making sure that he wasn't thinking about it that he forgot just how bad of an actor he was.

"You noticed?" Eyebrows knit together in sudden concern, Dallon nodded gently, and Brendon didn't even realize how bad he was letting himself get sometimes. "Um. Yeah. I... I don't really like Thanksgiving." He looked down again, shrugging. "I know it's important, family holidays are, but..."

"You don't have to like your family. Not when they don't approve of who you are," Dallon said gently. Brendon glanced up, met his gaze but looked away when he tried to smile. "I understand, though. It's different when it's people at school you don't even know and people you're related to. You don't have to listen to what they think, but your family is different. Feels like you have to listen to them."

Brendon nodded, avoiding his eyes. Sometimes the truth was hard to swallow. "I know. It sucks."

"I know." Dallon sighed quietly under his breath and watched Brendon's fingers carefully like he wasn't just painting fingernails but stitching something under his skin. "Yeah, I know. But just... you're awesome, Urie." He said suddenly, honest in a way that sketched genuineness. Like he needed to get it off his chest, like it had been eating away at him, chewing holes in his flesh where he wouldn't let Brendon look. Brendon glanced up again, heart wavering, but he didn't know what to say. "Don't let people take that away from you. It's rare, to be as real and honest and so unapologetically you. Please don't let anything fuck that up."

His throat closed and words died behind his teeth. And suddenly Brendon couldn't seem to look away, because lingering in his gaze was something dark and heavy. Something corporate and indecipherable. Maybe Brendon couldn't look away, but he wasn't even trying anymore. "I won't, Dallon." He whispered, not knowing what else to say.

Brendon thought a lot about what he had said that night, and Dallon's words lingered long after he was gone. He was rare. He was unapologetic.

And if Brendon put on eyeliner in the quiet of his room after Dallon had gone home, well, then no one had to know.

* * *

The pros of Thanksgiving break were that it was a four day weekend after weeks of work and no play. Homework and tests and studying and stressing out because he really just had no idea what was going on between he and Dallon. The cons were that it was a four day weekend where his mother's side of the family visited and drove him up the fucking wall.

So the pilgrims and the Indians got together for a feast or whatever all those years ago. So Thanksgiving was an important American holiday. So it was imperative that it be spent with family. Those were all formalities. It didn't mean they were actually true. Maybe the first one, Brendon wasn't going to argue with the history of his country, but still. He fucking hated Thanksgiving.

The food was the best part. It was the only good part, actually; Kara and his parents made dinner before the family arrived and Brendon sat in the kitchen and watched and ate the little celery sticks they put out since his parents wouldn't let him have anything else. But then his family showed up, and his aunt looked him up and down with distaste before pulling him into an obligatory hug. And then his little cousins tugged on his shirt and made him go play basketball behind the diner even though he hated sports and wanted to go inside and it was cold and they were too short for basketball, anyway. Tyler was away for the day, and Dallon was up in Salt Lake City until Saturday night, and Brendon had never felt so goddamn lonely when he was surrounded by people.

Brendon: what do u say when ur cousins ask why u don't have a girlfriend

Dallon: have you SEEN boys

Brendon: correction: what do u say when ur cousins ask why you don't have a girlfriend and u can't come out of the closet cause their mom will prob stone u to death

Dallon: ummmm

Dallon: I don't see why you wouldn't have a girl or boyfriend so can't help you there

Brendon: dang it

Dallon: sorry :( how long are they staying?

Brendon: until saturday but I really just want to be alone. they live in california so they usually spend the long weekend here and it's usually just my aunt uncle and their four kids that stay here and then we have a ton of other family over for just the day but they take over my siblings rooms and are so in the way I hate it and it sucks

Dallon: not your room?

Brendon: no my parents know that I get anxious so they don't make me house anybody which is just as well cause then I'll be getting my gay energy all over them and that just won't do!!!! I have to go have dinner now but can I call u tonight

Dallon: yes of course

Dallon: go shine all your gay energy all over them!!!!!

Brendon smiled to himself and locked his phone, sliding it down in between his thighs as his aunt took the hands of the people beside her. He listened to her talk about how Jesus blessed them with their mashed potatoes, and Matt whispered in his ear to ask what she would do if she found out that Brendon was gay. Brendon threw a roll at him, hated to think about it, but it wasn't like Matt knew, anyway. It wasn't something just anybody could understand.

Brendon sat downstairs in the corner booth of the diner that night with tears in his eyes and his phone pressed to his ear, listening to Dallon talk quietly about his day because Brendon just couldn't think about his own right now. It was cold in Salt Lake City but Dallon was laying in the grass of his aunt's backyard, staring at the moon. And it was warm where Brendon sat in the diner, staring at the moon, past the glass of the window, and Dallon whispered that he wished he was home and Brendon whispered that he wished he was with Dallon and neither of them said anything more, just sat there quietly until Dallon's mom called him inside and Brendon's mom called him upstairs because it was late, they hadn't realized.

"Hey, Urie?" Dallon whispered before they hung up, and Brendon hummed, lingering at the end of the table with his mug of hot chocolate empty on the edge. "I'm really thankful that we're friends."

"I am too, Dallon," Brendon said without a second thought. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Dallon hung up, and Brendon went to bring his mug to the sink in the kitchen.

The thing about Brendon's family was that they were everywhere. When he got up someone was in the bathroom, and there were people in the kitchen, and he had to go downstairs to the diner, closed for the weekend, and use the bathroom there because God forbid he had any respect in his own home. And when he and his siblings were going to perform their ritual of game night Friday when none of them had plans, their cousins beat them to the TV. Brendon was just so sick of feeling like a guest in his own home.

By the time Sunday morning rolled around the house was empty again, or as empty as the Urie household could be. He was trying to sleep in on his final day of freedom, there were no screaming nine-year-olds in the house today, but his mother had practically dragged him out of bed and forced him to go to the farmer’s market she loved so much. She needed company, he needed to get out of the house, it was the perfect solution. Except that Brendon was too tired to care about shopping for fruits and vegetables, because who could so early in the morning?

"Look, Bren.” Brendon’s mother made a very big deal in pointing to the strawberry rhubarb that was tucked in a green basket at an elderly woman’s stand. Brendon dragged his feet alongside her riant steps and shrugged sleepily, carelessly. “I could make a pie with this.”

“I’m sure you could.” He agreed passively. He really missed his blanket, and he was counting down the minutes until he could be with it again.

“I’m gonna get some.” She pulled out her wallet and spoke with the elderly woman for a moment while Brendon stood in place and twisted his body around to keep himself moving. He was kind of antsy, and he reminded himself to have a stern word with his mother about waking him up on high anxiety days.

“Brendon!” He heard a familiar female voice come from behind him, and he twisted around to see none other than Dallon’s mother approaching him. Of course he had to be looking like he did, with his sister's slipper boots and a much too big sweatshirt on that he was practically swimming in. He hadn't been expecting to see anybody he knew. His hair wasn’t even brushed.

“Hi.” Brendon offered a nervous smile and reached out for his mom’s arm. He tugged on her sweater sleeve to get her attention, so with her bag of strawberry rhubarb in hand, she turned to tend to him. “Um, mama, this is Dallon’s mom.”

“Oh!” Brendon’s mom reached out to shake her hand, catching how their eyes looked the same when they smiled. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“You too! Leann.” She introduced herself, and Brendon was praying that Dallon wasn’t there with her, because he couldn't have Dallon seeing him like this. He hadn’t even brushed his teeth.

“Grace,” Brendon’s mom returned. “We love Dallon, he’s such a good kid.”

Brendon could feel heat rise to his cheeks; she was so embarrassing. “Yeah, I like him too." Leann laughed. "I’ve heard about you from Dallon too, actually. He talks about Brendon all the time. And his family, of course. He loves your family.”

Brendon looked down at his feet, smiled to himself, swore to his skin to cool down before he had to find a bucket of ice water to dunk himself in. There was no way that was true. He talked about him all the time. All the time. “That’s so sweet. He’s wonderful, really.”

“Well, Brendon is too,” Dallon’s mother added, and Brendon’s mom placed a hand on his shoulder proudly.

“Yeah, we like him.” She said playfully. Parents were so weird. “Well, we should move on, we’ve got a lot of greens to tackle before we go home and-“

“Sleep for six more hours,” Brendon interrupted. Dallon’s mom laughed, nodding in agreement, and Brendon noticed that she had a handful of bags. Dallon would be carrying those if he was there, so...

“I don’t blame you. Dallon usually comes with me to these, but he was exhausted this morning. We got home late last night. And after all, it’s a Sunday.”

“Oh, I’m this tired every day.” Brendon shrugged, hoped that his weak humor would somehow make up for this. He'd never felt so awkward in his life.

“Well, I’ll let you go.” She pat Brendon on the shoulder maternally. “Come back over soon. We love having you, honey.”

Brendon was about to say ‘you too’ but he caught himself right before he could totally embarrass himself. “Okay. Sure. I'd love to. Bye.”

“Bye, Brendon. It was nice meeting you, Grace.”

“You too!” They smiled at each other in that motherly our-kids-are-good-friends kind of way before they went their separate ways down the length of the farmer’s market. She nudged Brendon in the side excitedly while he tried not to explode, clutching the sleeves of his sweatshirt and grinning to himself. “He talks about you all the time.”

Brendon squealed, actually squealed, and then composed himself as if it had never happened. He was in public, for God’s sake. “Oh my god.” He said under his breath.

Dallon Weekes talked about him. That was a lot more than he could say a month ago, anyway.

* * *

Brendon was back in his assigned seat in history the next morning, unreasonably tired and taking everything in him not to fall asleep. He was vaguely aware of Dallon and Ryan's hushed voices as they stepped into the classroom, too tired to bother eavesdropping, and he was already half asleep against the palm of his hand and he didn't acknowledge Dallon's presence until he twisted around in his seat suddenly. Surprised, Brendon looked up to see a half smile on his face, and he forced a smile back.

“My mom said she saw you at the farmer’s market downtown yesterday.” He declared in lieu of a greeting. Brendon nodded the affirmation, and Dallon's smile widened. “She was really happy to see you. She likes you.”

Dallon’s mom liked him? Brendon, with his stupid slippers and sweatshirt and messy hair and the dumb red glasses he wore since he couldn't find the black ones after his cousins thought it would be funny to hide them? His heart fluttered. “She does?”

“Yeah. She thinks you’re a good influence or something, I don't know. I agree though.” Brendon smiled, didn't bother to hide the red that was creeping up his cheeks. A good influence? Brendon? “Hey, are you going to the pep rally?”

Brendon shook his head; he had completely forgotten about the annual pep rally. “I wouldn’t be caught dead at that thing.”

Another smile turned up on Dallon's lips and he went to bump his fist playfully against Brendon's. “Me neither. So, I was wondering if you would wanna go to this art museum with me. We don’t have to go for long, but I have to go for an art assignment and I wanna bring you.”

Brendon’s heart pounded and he nodded, maybe too quick, but if Dallon noticed he didn’t mention it, only smiled when Brendon forgot to. “I’d love to.”

“Cool!” Dallon grinned when Brendon remembered how to smile back, simple things were just so complicated sometimes. He turned around in his seat suddenly without another word, leaving a blushing Brendon smiling at the back of his head. When he reached into his backpack to find his homework, Brendon caught sight of the nail polish still on his fingernails, kind of chipped but still very prominent.

When class ended Brendon stepped out of the classroom with Ashley by his side once Dallon was already gone with Ryan, chatting about something Brendon couldn't hear. "Hey, Brendon?" She tugged on his sleeve timidly, so he looked over at the girl with an eyebrow quirked. "I have a question."

He hated those words. Looking down at his feet, he nodded reluctantly. "Okay."

She worried her bottom lip in her teeth, hesitant enough to make Brendon worry. "Um, you like Dallon... right?"

His head snapped up to look at her incredulously. How could she have possibly known that? Was Tyler telling anybody? He wouldn't do that. Nobody else knew, though, there was no way. In a frantic whisper, he asked, "What? Who told you that?"

"Oh, no one, I promise." She crossed her heart. "I just pick up on that stuff. You're always smiling at him and flirting and walking with him in the halls. Like, he walks you to class and you laugh at everything he says." She kept her eyes down and her voice hushed to protect his secret, and he appreciated her attention to detail. He hadn't even been paying attention himself.

"Oh. Um. Yeah." He wouldn't meet her eyes, embarrassed just as everyone was when someone figured out their crush. "Yeah, I do. But you can't tell anyone, okay? Nobody. Only Tyler knows, and I want it to stay that way. He can't know."

"I won't tell, Brendon. Honest." She held out her pinky so he linked his with hers, squeezing for emphasis. "I just wanted to tell you that I think he might like you too. The way he looks at you, you know? His eyes light up and he looks all happy. Not to mention the fact that he's always trying to impress you. Everything he says around you, he says to make you smile or laugh. And when you do, he looks proud."

Brendon watched his black converse step in time with her blue ones. Sure, Dallon always looked happy to see him, but that was because they were friends. Dallon liking him back wasn't even an option. It wasn't something to consider or ponder about. Brendon certainly didn't ponder about it. He didn't lay in bed at night and stare at his ceiling wondering what Dallon really thought of him. Or maybe he did, but no one had to know. "Oh."

"Yeah. Just, y'know, some food for thought." She punched his bicep and offered a cheerful smile, as if she knew that in that moment, she'd completely made his day. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah, see you." He offered a smile and watched her step into her next classroom while he clutched the strap of his bag tighter. Fleetingly, he wondered if Ashley could be right, but it wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible. Because he had no idea what he would do if it was.

* * *

The “is it a date” conversation was one that Brendon had been having with himself quite regularly since he and Dallon had begun to spend time together. It wasn't just a simple obviously unrequited crush anymore. It was lunches after school and talking on the phone all night, getting macarons and driving around town and studying together before a test, watching movies when studying just wasn't working out. It was Brendon wondering how to decipher if any of it was a date and if that was Dallon's intention, because this was all so confusing.

Just when he thought that they were getting somewhere, it was like they took one step forward and two steps back. Sometimes it felt like they were so close, finally crossing the invisible threshold that had been blurred with every other smile. And then sometimes it felt like they were on opposite ends of the earth. The dichotomy of it was foreboding sometimes.

Brendon sat quietly on his bed Thursday evening, picking at his freshly painted nails and watching Tyler dig through everything Brendon had for clothes. It was a museum. A museum wasn't a place that people who were just friends went. A museum was a date. It had to be a date. "You have nothing!” Tyler complained, pushing aside a black sweatshirt in the drawer while Brendon watched him pensively, only half listening. “You literally have no clothes, Brendon, you need to come shopping with me.”

“Well, I’m going out with Dallon tomorrow and it’s kind of too late to go shopping right now. Why can’t I just wear something I already have? Are my clothes that bad?” He frowned to himself like a child that had been told no.

Tyler plopped down on Brendon’s bed, rolling onto his back with a sigh. “No, they’re not that bad, tiny. They’re fine, it's just— is everything you own so... shiny?"

Brendon looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... the unicorn sweater? Lavender hoodie? You know I like that half the time you dress like you live in Hot Topic and the other half like you just shoplifted every Justice store in America, but Bren, this is a possible date and you need to look better than usual so that you grab his attention and pique his interest. You can't wear some of this stuff. Most of this stuff. No offense, it's just... if you go on a date, you wanna look fresh. New.” He waved his hands around like he was conspiring but Brendon didn't get it. Was an unestablished date still a date? Shouldn't a guy like him for him and not what he wore? Tyler dropped his hands and stared at Brendon's ceiling pensively, why was this so goddamn difficult, but just as Brendon was about to give up and say fuck it, why did it even matter, he was just gonna wear leggings and a sweatshirt and hope that Dallon found it cute, Tyler jumped up and grabbed his hand. “I have an idea. Come with me.”

“Do I have a choice?” Brendon asked. Tyler shook his head fervently, of course he didn't, and pulled him to Kyla's door.

"Come in." She called when he knocked, so Tyler stormed in with a plan. “May I help you?”

Tyler nodded enthusiastically. “Brendon has a date tomorrow and he needs to borrow clothes. You have the best style, he has a girly body, he can fit into yours.”

“It’s not a date.” He argued, he couldn't keep letting himself hope. Believing things that weren't true wasn't a good idea. Avoiding the roll of Tyler's eyes and the way his sister surveyed him, he glanced down at his body and tugged at the hem of his shirt. “Do I really?”

“Yeah. Not a bad thing.” Kyla led the two boys to her side of the room and to her closet, where Brendon stepped back to examine himself and Tyler began rooting around quickly like he had some sort of clothes-searching superpower.

“Okay!” Tyler grabbed a navy blue knit sweater out of the closet at record speed and held it up in front of an unsuspecting Brendon. He closed one eye, squinted the other, grinned and pulled it off of the hanger— and without bothering to ask permission, he reached out and tugged Brendon's shirt up until it was completely off. Brendon startled as he forced the sweater on him and smoothed his hands over his chest, smiling exuberantly at his masterpiece on the uncomfortable boy. “This looks so good on you, Brenny bear! Wear this with black jeans and those black shoes you have and you’ll look perfect.”

“So, what’s this whole date situation?” Kyla asked, plopping down on her bed while Tyler walked circles around his best friend to examine him all around. Brendon rolled his eyes, but he examined himself in the mirror nonetheless. He did look good in the sweater, and, well. Yeah. He wore girl's jeans for a reason, he guessed.

“Dallon asked him to go to a museum with him with the excuse that it's for a school project or something. It’s totally a date, right? That’s such a gay date.”

“That is a gay date, Bren! Congratulations.” Kyla looked up at him and giggled when Brendon turned to look at her, annoyance clear in his eyes.

He was about to make a snappy comment about how it wasn’t a date and maybe they should both mind their own business, but he decided against it. He was riding the high of his good luck, after all. “Can I borrow the sweater?”

She nodded solemnly. “Yeah. You look cute in it. Go get him, little one.”

He pressed his lips into a straight line, just the slightest bit tilted up to form a smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She said, and he looked down at himself again, wondering if maybe there was more to it.

* * *

Brendon avoided Dallon's gaze awkwardly as he sat in the passenger seat on Friday afternoon, looking around at anything but him. He was acutely aware of Dallon smiling, could see it out of the corner of his eye, and words died in his throat. Was it a date? He couldn't tell. Was Dallon always smiling this much?

As they stepped up the marble steps that made Brendon feel like he was walking on royalty, Dallon wrapped an arm around his shoulders to guide him to the desk where they showed their student IDs to get free entry. Brendon tensed up a little at the strangely intimate touch, second guessed himself and relaxed his shoulders, settled into it. He knew what this was, but he wouldn't say it. Anxiety lined his veins, dripped down into his fingers to leave them shaking, and they stood so close their shoulders touched.

Dallon leaned in close suddenly, breath hot against Brendon's ear. "New places make you nervous, don't they?"

Brendon dropped his ID, hands shaking so much that he hadn't even noticed. A few people glanced at him and he bent down to pick it up, hyperaware of everything around him. "Um." He tugged at his sweater, tightened his grip on his ID. Didn't he know that all these places had one common denominator? "Yeah. I guess."

"So you've never been here," Dallon concluded, tucking his hands politely behind his back.

"Um, no. I'm not really a museum boy. I mean, I've been to the science museum, like, in middle school. For field trips. Nowhere like here." He twisted his body back and forth awkwardly, looking around at the ornate walls and the chandelier. "This is fancy."

"You'll like it, Urie. I promise." Dallon grinned, and then he was stepping up to show his ID before he led Brendon into one of the side wings to show him some sculptures.

Dallon had a camera around his neck, resting quiet against his gray collared sweater, and Tyler was right in dressing him. He tugged self-consciously at his own sweater and followed Dallon around, rambling on about his favorite paintings and artists and mediums as if Brendon understood a word he was saying. He nodded politely, laughed when Dallon apologized for being so pretentious, admitted that no, it wasn't his thing but yes, he agreed that some of it was so astoundingly beautiful that it kind of took his breath away. And, well, Brendon preferred the sketches in Dallon's notebook, but perhaps that was because he was biased.

Dallon snapped a few photos for his homework while Brendon wandered around the room, losing himself in this painting of these waves done with oil paints. Feeling himself in the art. He didn't think he'd like it so much, he had never actually even thought about it, but it was... intriguing. He couldn't see himself doing it, that probably wouldn't end up being good for his ego, but as he and Dallon talked over lunch he admitted that he wasn't expecting to feel it so deeply.

Brendon was doing his homework at his desk that night when he got the notification that he had been tagged in a post. Curiously, he unlocked his phone and opened up a photo of himself, facing away from the camera and looking at that painting.

Djjazzyweekes: a work of art (and a painting!)

With shaking fingers, Brendon double tapped the photo and commented a smile before he set the phone down. He didn't know what it meant but his heart was thrumming in his chest and blood was rushing in his ears, because it had to mean something. He was sick of wondering and sick of guessing but suddenly, it didn't even matter anymore. He could trick himself into thinking it was nothing, he could stare at his ceiling and dwell over it for hours until it had been exhausted to death. But when it all came down to it, Brendon couldn't let himself stop thinking it. He didn't know what exactly Dallon was doing, but it was all done with intention.

* * *

Brendon’s beloved home was really feeling the Christmas spirit, as it did every year with lights and decorations that had somewhere along the line become a staple of the Urie family's holiday. The town was flooded with Christmas carols, holiday songs on the radio, peppermint flavored everything. The tree had been set up on the farthest wall of the living room, right beside where it parted to meet the dining room across the little hallway under the stairs. Decorations lined the walls, lights were strung about the corners where wall met ceiling, and every surface was covered in some sort of jolly ornament that lit up or sparkled or glimmered. Peppermint candles lifted the sweet scent in the air, and the stereo in the living room was always playing Christmas music. The Urie family really, really loved the holiday season.

Brendon: so what are u doin this fine friday eve

Dallon: I’m baking Christmas cookies with my mom haha I'm super cool and a hundred percent definitely NOT a loser

Brendon: tell her I say hi! (and to send over some cookies!)

Dallon: she says hi! (and no! she’s gonna eat them all herself!!!) (but you can have some anyway I'll sneak them don't worry)

Dallon: what are you doing

“Brendon, will you please help? This is a family tradition.” His mother’s voice grabbed his attention, and he looked up to see his family decorating the Christmas tree together with lights and tinsel and ornaments.

Brendon was sitting in one of the dining room chairs with his knees pulled to his chest and a candy cane in his mouth when he was interrupted from his very important conversation. He glanced at Kyla, hanging a little ornament of a Santa with a penguin on a branch and frowned. “I already helped!”

“You put up like, four ornaments.” Kara grabbed a candy cane and threw it at Brendon; he ducked his head against his knees to avoid getting hit in the face.

“I’m short. I can’t even reach anything. You guys don’t need me.” He defended himself, he wasn't necessarily in the mood to hang ornaments on the tree and be lectured about how he needed to scatter them opposed to cluster them in once particular place on the tree. He caught a couple of them roll their eyes, but Brendon would let it slide. It was the holidays.

Brendon: being attacked by candy canes

Dallon: a good way to be attacked

Brendon: I agree but still

Brendon: we’re decorating the tree but I’m talkin to u instead

Dallon: how sweet :)

Dallon: hey would you wanna sleep over tomorrow night?

Brendon: yeah what do u have in mind

Dallon: well my mom and I go out every saturday night and look at Christmas lights around town and we can watch movies or something, take a break from the movie list and watch some Christmas movies instead maybe?

Brendon: sure I’ll ask!!

He glanced up as his mother handed a golden birdcage to Kara. “Can I sleep over Dallon’s tomorrow?”

She turned to look at him, hands on her hips and a frown on her face. “If you get off your phone and help us decorate the damn tree.”

“Fine.” He sighed and let his sock-covered feet slide off the chair and onto the floor. His family could be so hasty when it came to Christmas sometimes.

Brendon: my mom says that as long as I get off my phone and help decorate the damn tree I can so I’ll text u later on when I'm not being harassed to be festive

Dallon: cool! and you better :)

Brendon smiled to himself and set his phone down on the chair, jumping up to help since, well, the bottom of the tree could use a few ornaments. He hated Thanksgiving but Christmas was just for the Uries, a tight-knit holiday where he couldn't even be bothered to change out of his pajamas. A holiday where he really did give thanks, because this was the part of him that mattered. The part that the ones he loved knew and accepted. He stood up high on his toes to hang an ornament by the star.

Dallon's mother was in the driver's seat of a car Brendon had never seen when he made it outside the next evening, cheeks flushed from the sudden cold and a scarf around his neck. Dallon waved lightheartedly from the passenger side, smiling about as bright as the Christmas tree upstairs, and the boy climbed into the backseat and dropped his bag on the seat beside him. "Hey, Urie."

“Hi, Brendon,” Dallon’s mother greeted, smiling at him through the rear-view mirror. He smiled back and reached out to give Dallon a fist bump when the boy extended his hand. “How are you?”

“Hey, hi. Good. Cold. What are we doing?”

“We’re going out to look at Christmas lights. Welcome to the Weekes family tradition,” Dallon chimed from the front seat, turning around to look at Brendon's rosy cheeks. Matter-of-factly, Dallon told him, “we get very jolly around this time of year. As soon as Thanksgiving ends, Christmas begins.”

“We’re the same way,” Brendon laughed, and Dallon's mother pulled into the road while Dallon twisted up the heat.

With a blithe smile Dallon turned on the radio, and a Christmas song filled the speakers, flooding the car with the wonderful sound of bells and trumpets. Brendon loved Christmas, the lights and the presents and the traditions. He loved waking up on Christmas morning to run downstairs and open presents with his family by the Christmas tree, he loved the looks on their faces when they opened his presents and the big breakfast and the even bigger dinner.

He could even appreciate Kyla’s off-key singing to the music on the stereo, covered in those little ceramic village houses his father collected and displayed each year. Boulder City during the holidays was a lot like that little village, except if you wanted a true ice skating rink then you had to go up a few miles toward Vegas and there was no giant snowman slide downtown. But they did have the Christmas lights contest and small-town festivities, making him feel this visceral spread of warmth deep in his chest when he and the Weekes family drove through town, singing along to the radio, laughing, blushing each time Dallon's mom made the two get out of the car to take photos in front of the lights together.

The warmth of Dallon's apartment felt good on his skin as he unwrapped his scarf in the foyer, looking around at the decorations and smiling to himself. Dallon made popcorn and hot cocoa with a candy cane for good measure, and Brendon settled down on the couch with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, knees to his chest and remnants of faint snow in his hair, whatever Nevada bothered to give. Dallon's mom toyed with the settings on the Christmas lights for a second before she turned on Rudolph, Brendon's favorite, and Dallon took a place by his side as he handed the boy a mug.

As the elves sang about making toys, Brendon went to twist his body, bumping his knee against Dallon’s softly. He looked up to whisper an apology, but the words died behind his teeth when he dipped his head to give Brendon a genial smile. He moved his leg just enough to toe the side of Brendon’s sock-covered foot with his own, a friendly gesture, and then tilted and rested his leg against Brendon’s. Brendon stopped, stilled completely, and Dallon smiled to himself as he looked back at the television screen and adjusted his body to face Brendon’s subtly.

When the credits started rolling Dallon's mother excused herself to bed and Dallon gathered the dishes to put them in the sink. Brendon waited awkwardly in front of the hallway, watching Dallon move from the living room to the kitchen to the living room again, and then he was clicking off the light and nodding silently toward his room. Brendon waited for him, tugging at the hem of his sweater as he followed Dallon down the hall.

“Thanks for inviting me to do all of this with you and your mom. It was a lot of fun.” Brendon's voice came out in a whisper as he closed the door behind him and flicked on the light. Dallon turned to look at him with a smile, nodding softly, and then turned to grab a pair of red and green plaid pajama pants from the drawer.

Dallon didn’t bother to tell Brendon to turn around when he tugged his joggers off but Brendon did anyway, common courtesy, and went to find his own pajamas in his bag. “Of course, Bren. Thank you for coming. I like sharing what I do with you. You’re fun to be around.”

Brendon settled down with his legs criss-crossed amongst the blankets Dallon had added somewhere over the course of the past few days. Brendon pulled a dark green one with a repetitive pattern of little black moose up over his shoulders and smiled bright when he caught Dallon's gaze. “You are too, Dal. And I love all this Christmas celebration stuff. I love the lights and the decorations and Rudolph. It’s so good, I swear it gets better every year. I know it by heart and I can quote the entire thing word for word but I literally never get sick of it.”

Dallon nodded enthusiastically, making his messy, snow-soaked, unwashed brown hair fall into crystal blue eyes. “Me too. And I don’t mean to turn the greatest Christmas movie of all time into some heavy discussion or wax poetic and whatever, but my favorite part is that everyone on the island of misfit toys finds a home in the end. Kinda makes you think that even when you don’t totally fit in, you still deserve love.”

Brendon glanced up at him through his bangs and nodded carefully. “Yeah. Yeah, I get it. What I don’t get, though, is the doll. Why was she on the island? It never clarified her reason for being there. It's been bothering me forever.”

Dallon played with the hem of the blanket over his lap, and Brendon watched his fingers move gingerly, nails chipped red and green from when Brendon had done them to match his own a few days prior. “She was depressed, that’s why she was on the island. She had really low self-esteem. She was considered a misfit because of mental illness, which is a little screwed up, but I guess back then it made sense to people.”

Brendon breathed out this disconcerting feeling in his chest, watching the way Dallon twisted the ring off his finger before he glanced up at him and met his eyes instead. “Oh, wow. I didn’t know that. That... that’s really sad.”

“I know.” He agreed, shrugging in a what can you do manner. “But hey, everything works out in the end, anyway. Besides, we probably shouldn’t look too deep into Christmas movies.”

Brendon laughed quietly and looked down at his lap while Dallon pulled the covers up over his legs, smiling warmly despite himself. “You know, you’re probably right.”


	8. Chapter 7: Blank Slate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas here's the Christmas chapter six months early

December seemed to go by so slowly when Brendon was sitting through classes trying to finish his work so he could glance out the window and watch the snowfall. White snowflakes toppled down from the sky gracefully and landed on wet concrete only to melt into the ground, transient passing guests but still welcomed ones at that. It was half rain at this point, but it seemed that this year it was snowing more than usual. Maybe that meant something, or maybe he was looking too far into it.

The year felt long and he was happy to see it end, if only to start again at the blink of an eye and repeat the cycle of school and work and do it all again. It had gone from sixty to forty in just a couple of weeks and little clouds huffed out from parted lips lingered as two pairs of shoes walked down the sidewalk, wet from the snow that had stopped somewhere on the way across town. Brendon's trembling hands were tucked deep in the pockets of his jacket, and Dallon's red jacket was zipped tightly and up over his chin, cheeks rosy and soft.

"So, are you excited for vacation?" Brendon urged once the previous conversation had fallen away silently amongst shaking shoulders, short lived like the snowfall that had more or less turned into a plain, bright white sky.

Dallon nodded, squinting up at the sky as if trying to search for the sun. "Yes. I have no time to do anything anymore. It's so nice to just close myself off in my room and listen to Christmas music and paint or write or lay there and do nothing just because I can."

"Aside from the essay we have to write. And the packet of a hundred questions in math."

"That too." Dallon let out a half laugh and raised his shoulders to cover his neck with his jacket, he'd forgotten his scarf at home that morning and it felt like it was getting colder by the second. "What about you? What's your schedule for the holidays look like?"

"Sleep. More sleep. Christmas cookies. And sleep."

Dallon laughed and pulled his hands out of his pockets to rub them together for some friction. The air was chilling them to the bone, and Brendon was shivering even under the three layers he was wearing. "That's fair. I'm looking forward to the end of the year, though, I like starting fresh."

Brendon nodded congruently. "Me too."

"And maybe we can hang out over break," Dallon suggested, but when Brendon looked up at him, he added matter-of-factly, "only if you can take a break from your sleep and your Christmas cookies, of course."

He hummed playfully, popping a hip out for dramatic effect. "I can't make that promise."

"Huh. Maybe I'll just participate in your plans then." A lively smile tugged his lips upward when he said it, but Brendon still felt his face heat up and he looked down at his sneakers beside Dallon's boots. Dallon's cheeks were pink too but maybe it was from the cold, and it was an internal battle that Brendon would never stop losing.

He was about to say something else in an attempt to be flirty back, but the sudden hello of the warm air made the words die on his tongue. For the best, he thought as Dallon held the door for him. "Hey, I'm gonna go to the bathroom, can you order?"

"Yeah." Dallon took off his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair at their table by the window. "What do you want?"

"Surprise me." He suggested, and disappeared down the hallway in the back that led to the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror, he splashed a handful of warm water on his face to rid the blush and wake himself up. Dark circles were imprinted under his eyes and his pores were seeping exhaustion and getting it all over the place. He sighed, water dripping from his cheeks, and today was a lot. Today was a lot, but he got through it, and he was going to keep getting through it. He wiped his face on his sweatshirt and his hands on his leggings and headed back to the table.

Dallon was carrying a plate of macarons and two sodas when he returned, setting them down on the little white table just as Brendon was taking a seat across from him. He pushed the plate closer to Brendon, smiling warmly and nodding his head, and Brendon didn't know when he had begun to know him so well, but Brendon accepted the plate and started to sort the cookies into categories anyway. “I can’t believe first semester is almost over.”

“I can’t believe junior year is almost halfway over,” Brendon added, moving a red velvet flavored macaron across the plate to the corner with the cookies that were darker warm shades. “I was told that high school is supposed to be the best four years of my life. For the two and a half I’ve been here, that’s been proven false.”

“Me too.” Dallon half smiled when Brendon peeked up at him. “But I’m staying hopeful.”

“Me too!” Brendon gave him a fist bump and smiled down at the plate when Dallon let out a little laugh. “At least we get a week off. I know it’s not like, that much, and we still have a lot of homework, but I get to sleep in every day and that’s what matters. Except when I'm working.”

Dallon slumped over with his cheek in his hand, pouting petulantly. “Why do they give us homework over break? It’s called break because we need a break.”

“Dude, I know. I didn’t go through almost four whole months of school just to get a stupid week off full of more work than we got in those four months.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Dallon agreed, snatching a cookie from the plate once Brendon was done and had pushed the plate back to the center of the table. Brendon picked one out and broke it in half so Dallon did the same, trading a half with Brendon over the table breezily. “Do you think you’ll actually do it?”

“Resentfully, but yeah. I can’t afford to fail. I assume you’re already halfway done with yours?”

Dallon laughed again. “You know me so well!”

“You’re just a dork.” Brendon threw a crumb at him and offered a smile, one Dallon returned sweetly before he took a bite out of his cookie and reached out for his drink. “We should actually do something over the vacation, if you’re not busy. We could talk about how much we hate homework over break and then you can do all my homework for me, because I really just don’t want to do it.”

“You’re sinister, Urie.” He accused with an arched eyebrow, tone drawn through a laugh.

Brendon grinned at him over his straw in between his teeth, put that adorable shining-eyed look on his face. “I strive to be.”

A pleasant smile met Dallon’s lips and made Brendon’s heart threaten to combust. The week wasn't long and he'd gone sixteen years without Dallon, but suddenly that felt so infeasible. Somewhere, they had crossed these invisible lines that sketched out some complex accord, incongruent and so abstruse when he thought hard about where they stood. With two feet solid in this convolution. “But yeah, we should hang out," Dallon repeated, and Brendon tilted his chin up, wondering. "I need something to look forward to.”

“What about Christmas?”

“What about the rest of the vacation week?” He returned, and Brendon knew. It wasn't fun if you spent it alone. He had spent a lot of time dwelling on that. But now... things were different, and he and Dallon found themselves colliding and sapping energy from each other to survive the winter. They wouldn't label it, not out loud and certainly not to each other, but their symbiosis had felt so delineating, sometimes.

"You have a point. I guess I can make some time for you." Brendon was blushing but Dallon's gaze didn't stray from his. "Unless you wanna, y'know. Join me for my plans. They're not very interchangeable, after all."

Something incomprehensible flickered in Dallon's eyes but it was gone as soon as it was there, and his smile was impish, and Brendon was sick of cat and mouse. "I'll keep that in mind, Urie."

Brendon smiled on the way home, and he smiled when he hugged Dallon over the middle console, and he smiled when he let himself into the house and ran upstairs and kicked off his shoes. He couldn't stop smiling but Dallon had been smiling too and it was almost Christmas and he had a reason to smile, anyway. He wandered through the house for a little while, peeking around until he established that his parents must still be working. Folding his arms around him and embracing the warmth of his home, he climbed the stairs.

He knocked quietly on the girls' door and poked his head inside, smiling at his sisters. "Hi. I just got home. Can you guys give me a face mask? I feel icky."

“Sure.” Kyla got up to grab one of the tubes of peel-off face mask from her vanity so Brendon pointed his thumb in the direction of his room with a step back into the hallway.

“I’m gonna go change first. I’ll be right back.” He waited for their okay before he rushed into his room to change.

He piled his clothes on the floor and looked around at the few Christmas decorations he'd put up in his room, a desktop tree and a few snow globes, as he smiled quietly to himself. The end of the year was creeping up, but he wasn't going to let it surprise him. He'd accomplished a lot this year, reached little milestones and made significant changes. He glanced up at a sketch that Dallon had half-assed on a scrap of paper one day in the middle of studying, taped up on the wall by his door. This year was different. The next one would be too.

Kyla was sitting on the floor with the tube and a headband when Brendon returned, the bottoms of his pajama pants pooling at his feet. "Thanks." He huffed, taking a seat in front of her.

"Sure." She handed him the headband and he slipped it on, pushing his hair off of his forehead and out of his eyes. "How was school?"

"Fine. Boring. I have a lot of homework for vacation, but I'm probably gonna get together with Tyler one day and try to get it all done. Maybe Dallon, too. We'll see."

"Good thinking. What about Dallon? How's he?"

Brendon shrugged and tilted his head so she could swipe some of the stuff onto his cheek. "He's alright. Drove me home. We got macarons."

"Nice. What's he doing for Christmas?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask." He opened his eyes to see his sister pursing her lips at him. “What?”

“I can’t believe you were with him all day and you guys didn’t talk about Christmas. I’m not sure I’m gonna let him marry into this family anymore. Are you even a Urie?”

He kicked her in the leg. “Shut up. We’ll talk about Christmas on Christmas or within the next couple of days. We were talking about other stuff today. And anyway, we've talked about Christmas plenty.” He could have mentioned the whole marrying into the family commentary, but he decided that his Christmas present to her was letting it slide.

“And I’ll have you know that there is no such thing as plenty when it comes to Christmas.”

“Okay, fine. You’re right, you’re right. You can never have too much Christmas.” He agreed, and she smiled, nodded, returned to applying the gooey green mask as he leaned forward and smiled too. She was right, he hated Thanksgiving but Christmas was one of the most beautiful times of the year.

Every Christmas Eve Brendon had trouble falling asleep. It had been like that since he was young, and even when he stopped believing he found it impossible to doze off. Maybe it was the childish excitement or maybe it was because he was terrible at sleep already, but even now sometimes he mistook every noise outside for the sound of sleigh bells ringing. Eventually, though, as he cuddled up to his favorite blanket and squeezed his eyes shut, he fell into a hazy comatose and his mind offered a peaceful blank slate.

"Brendon!"

He stirred, the sound of his family calling for him muffled through the door and blurred around the edges. He rubbed at his eyes, why was everybody trying to get him up, still half asleep and doused in lingering exhaustion because he hadn't gotten to sleep until what, twelve? One? He really needed to—

He sat up suddenly, smiling wide when he heard the faint sound of bells jingling somewhere down the stairs, and jumped up when he realized.

Christmas held a special place in Brendon's heart. It was the one day a year he put everything aside, tolerated his siblings' obnoxious singing and terrible puns and inconsistently bad presents and just smiled and rolled his eyes because it was his favorite holiday and he knew he never said it but loved spending time with his family. He loved their traditions, the hazelnut cocoa Kara always made, sitting around the tree opening presents, the fake smiles he got because he really was just terrible at gift-giving.

Brendon climbed out of bed, didn't even bother checking his phone. He almost missed a step when he was darting down the stairs, slowed his pace a little because Christmas in the emergency room would probably suck, and when he turned into the living room he was greeted with the sparkle of the tree and his family sitting on the ground beneath it, waiting for him.

"Morning!" Brendon's mom greeted when the boy sat down in front of the tree, skirted with presents from his siblings and Santa, as all the tags still read. "Merry Christmas, keiki."

Brendon smiled warmly and pushed his glasses up on his nose, glistening with the flickering lights of the tree. "Merry Christmas."

Traditions were set in concrete and Brendon smiled stupidly every time his parents raised their cameras, capturing moments that cycled around every year like routine. Brendon watched his siblings smile, thank him for the gifts he'd picked out for them, apologized sheepishly because he didn't really know what to get them. But they laughed, it was the thought that counted, and as he slid his presents into a bag and smiled to himself, he wondered if maybe he was a little too predictable.

His mother and Kara started breakfast and dinner, multitasking on the stove while everybody else cleaned up. But Brendon found himself caught in the purgatory of cleaning and cooking, stuck right in the middle where he had nothing left to do. So he lingered in the kitchen for a few minutes, sitting at the table with one leg crossed over the other and picking at the bowl of colorful Christmas hard candies to find all of the chocolate filled lemon pieces while Kara moved around him to use the table to try and sort out different ingredients.

"I'm gonna go say merry Christmas to Tyler and Dallon." He perked up suddenly after having snatched all of the lemon candies, almost having forgotten. His mom turned to smile at him pleasantly over her shoulder, holding a spatula and wearing her favorite Christmas apron, and that holiday buzz tingled in his extremities again. Sometimes he felt six years old again, grinning down at that empty plate of cookies he left out for Santa. Time had passed but he could still feel that childish excitement thrumming in his bones, staying up until he couldn't keep his eyes open and dancing around to Christmas music in his pajamas like no one else existed. Sometimes he still found that little bit of magic even when so much of it had faded away. "Can I?"

"Of course, baby." She nodded, and Kara reached over her to grab at something on the stove. A big breakfast and an even bigger dinner were tradition too, and Brendon made a point out of not using his phone for most of the day to bask in Christmas and all its glory. But, well, this year he had priorities. Friends to tend to, gratifications and hidden smiles behind a screen. Ending the year with more than he had started with. "Hurry back, though, I'm making extra bacon for you."

"I'll be quick." Brendon flashed her a grateful smile before he headed up to his room, almost slipping on the hardwood floors in his socks, and leaped for his phone on the side table. It was still early, they'd always opened presents early, and his eyes flickered up to the digital numbers atop his screen before he went into his contacts. Early, but not too early. Tyler's number appeared first, so he clicked it and rolled onto his back.

"Merry Christmas Brenny, my love." Tyler greeted on the first ring, impossibly more cheerful than usual and making Brendon smile. On days like today, he could appreciate the cocky undertone. He looked up at the dinosaur holding a cake, maybe a fruitcake today, and returned the sentiment. "Open presents yet?"

"Yeah, you?" Brendon asked, and a cold thread of air slipped in through the closed crack of his window. He turned his head toward it, traces of mountains outlining the distance beyond the roofs of his little neighborhood, and Nevada wouldn't dare grant him a real snowfall but what it did offer was just above freezing temperature, fresh air, and goosebumps on his skin. He inhaled steadily, exhaled just as so.

"Of course. We'll discuss everything later." He suggested, and Brendon hummed in affirmation. Video chats at the end of Christmas day were always in order, a short conversation about Brendon's sweet Christmases and Tyler's eventful ones, where he spent the day with extended family that tried to tear him apart. But he took it in stride and Brendon pretended he had his strength sometimes, too. But on Christmas it was different. On Christmas, he never had to pretend.

"Definitely. I can't really talk, my mom's making breakfast and I have to call Dallon too. I just wanted to say merry Christmas and I love you."

"My little Urie is getting all sappy and sentimental on me," Tyler cooed thoughtfully. "I love you too. I'll be back home in a couple of days, and we'll go back to Netflix and ice cream. For now, my grandma has been calling for me downstairs for five minutes, and I still need to call my boyfriend, so I'll talk to you tonight. Tell the Uries I say merry Christmas."

"Of course. Tell your family too. Bye buddy."

"Bye hoe." Tyler hummed before the line disconnected. Brendon smiled to himself, rolled his eyes, but scrolled through his contacts again all the way to the W's anyway. A lone number stared at him and he stared back, at a smiling Dallon in a tiny contact photo. Swallowing thickly, he clicked on the number.

The receiver didn't even ring once before the line connected, and Brendon couldn't bite back his grin when he heard Dallon laugh quietly. "I was just gonna call you. My finger was literally hovering over your number. Merry Christmas, Urie." Dallon's mellifluous voice filled his ears immediately, and Brendon rolled over onto his stomach with a sigh. He hadn't seen him in days, they couldn't find the time to even talk on the phone, and Brendon hadn't realized what a loss it was to go a day without Dallon until he had passed the line between temporary and permanent.

"Merry Christmas." He said softly, thumbing his bottom lip.

"How are you?" Dallon asked, and Brendon could hear the effervescence in his voice, that saccharine sweetness Brendon found every once in a while when he wasn't even looking. He swallowed again, smiling this time. He wasn't going to dwell on things today. It was just nice to talk to him.

"I'm good." He nodded to himself slowly. "I'm really good. I am very jolly. How are you? What are you doing for Christmas?"

"I'm okay. Maybe not as jolly as you. But, um, we're not doing anything. My mom and I just spend the day together. We don't do a lot of the festivities since..." He paused, and Brendon's smile dropped slightly when he heard the way Dallon breathed out on the other line. "We just watch movies and talk and stuff. Nothing special."

"Wait, you're not doing anything today?" Brendon asked, recoiling in disbelief.

"Nope."

Gears started turning, a light bulb went off in his mind, and he sat up suddenly at the presence of an idea. "You should come here. Like, to my house. With your mom." He didn't even think about it before he said it, but when his mind finally caught up to his mouth, to his surprise, he agreed with himself. It was a good idea. No, it was a great idea.

"Brendon, that's really sweet, but I don't wanna impose." He started hesitantly, wearing an awkward smile that Brendon could hear. But grateful nonetheless, in a way Brendon couldn't fathom. It seemed that things just kept cycling in between meaning now and then.

"No, you're not!" Brendon insisted, and Dallon made a noise of reluctance. "I mean, I'd have to ask first, but my parents and siblings love you. I'm sure they wouldn't mind. And you shouldn't have nothing to do on Christmas. It's just me and my family today. Come on." Not above begging, he stuck out his bottom lip as if Dallon could see and added, "I want you to. You're my best friend. Please?"

Dallon was quiet for a moment, considering. It was Christmas, and no one should be alone on Christmas. Brendon beamed to himself with pride and hope stitched in between the edges, please, please, and then Dallon said quietly, like he couldn't believe he was even saying it, "I'll have to ask. So will you."

Brendon resisted the urge to squeal in delight. "I will, Dal."

He sighed in defeat, but Brendon could tell that he was thankful. He had to be. If Brendon knew anything about Dallon it was that he didn't want to be pitied but Brendon wasn't pitying him, nor would he dare to. He was just trying to be a good friend, was all. "Alright, okay. I'll go ask my mom and text you the answer." Another pause. "Thank you, Brendon."

"Of course, Dallon. I-" He stopped himself, swallowed. He couldn't. "I'll text you."

"Okay." Dallon breathed out, smiled though Brendon couldn't see. "I'll talk to you in a minute."

"Sure. Yeah. Bye." Brendon waited until the line went dead before he jumped up with his phone still in hand and bolted downstairs to the kitchen where the smell of food was wafting through the air. His dad was trying to figure out the stereo in the living room to play Christmas music, his brothers and sister lingering around him, and in the kitchen his mother and Kara were switching between making dinner and breakfast like the culinary geniuses they were born to be. Sometimes Brendon wished he'd inherited that gene.

"How are they, keiki?" Brendon's mom asked when he entered the room with a plan.

"Good. Ty says merry Christmas. Um, quick question, can Dallon come over?" She turned to look skeptically at his sheepish smile while he practically bounced back and forth on his toes. "He told me that he and his mom don't do anything for Christmas since his dad died, and he's been a really, really good friend to me and I care about him a lot and I figured two more settings at the table tonight wouldn't be a big deal."

She sighed, eyes flickering up and down his features like she needed to detect the honesty in his eyes. It was all there, the plea for help. A milestone, a friendship, whatever it was. "Of course he can, Bren."

"Yay. Thank you, mama." He grinned and was already pulling out his phone and to tell Dallon when a lone message caught his eye.

Dallon: she said yes as long as we're not disrupting

Brendon: no of course you're not my mom says u can come

Dallon: what time would be okay ??

Brendon's heart did a little flip in his chest.

Brendon: as soon as u can!

Dallon: ok then after breakfast I'll get ready to come over :)

Brendon: ok I'll see u then :)

He thanked his mom again, beaming brighter than the flickering lights on the tree, and snuck into the living room to spread the news. His father had finally figured out the stereo and Sleigh Ride was blasting through the house, a little louder than necessary but soft enough to hear each other reminiscing on old Christmas memories over breakfast. When a six-year-old Brendon tried to make his own reindeer feed but ended up spilling it everywhere, resulting in a miserable Christmas eve until his mother helped him make some more with oats and glitter and sprinkle it outside. When Mason almost knocked over the tree, and Kyla swore that she saw Santa sneaking in through the window, and Brendon left the milk out for Santa a little too long, but it wasn't his fault that he was just too excited. When the children made up a dance to Jingle Bell Rock and performed it for their parents, every morning that they all crawled in their bed to wake them up to open presents. How they all still liked to hold that magic years after it had faded.

Brendon was not so patiently waiting for the doorbell to ring after having rushed through breakfast and darting upstairs to brush his teeth, not expecting much though there was a mistletoe hanging in the kitchen doorway for a reason. He snuck into Matt's room and snatched his cologne, girls had to like him for a reason, and he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror and smiled stupidly to himself. His hair was disheveled and his pajamas were wrinkled but it was Christmas. It was Christmas, and he was spending it with Dallon Weekes.

He ran to buzz Dallon in as soon as the doorbell rang, shouting to everybody that he would get it as he slid across the wood floors eagerly in his socks. The electric fireplace was crackling under the TV, his siblings were talking while his parents worked on dinner in the kitchen, and he caught the quiet snickers coming from the living room when he slipped and almost crashed against the wall. But he turned to glare at them and then pressed the button hard, face lit up with excitement because nothing was going to ruin this. The door clicked open downstairs, followed by the sound of footsteps, and Brendon shook his hands to ease his anxiety before he pulled open the door to reveal a smiling Dallon with his mother trailing behind.

"Hi!" Brendon greeted cheerfully.

"Hi." Dallon pulled him into a hug while his mom stepped inside and closed the door behind her. His winter coat was cold but his skin was warm, reminiscent from the heat in his mother's car, and Brendon closed his eyes, breathed him in. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Brendon whispered, voice muffled by Dallon's shoulder. His touch felt warmer somehow, and if he lingered a second too long then neither of them mentioned it. But the warmth was there, traced in their veins and leaving fingertips shaking.

When Brendon pulled away he gave a one arm hugged to Dallon's mother too, holding a wrapped present and a bouquet of flowers. "Merry Christmas, honey, thank you for inviting us." She said, kind sincerity in her tone and in blue eyes that thanked him too when she pulled away. Something more meaningful than thank you for her. A thank you for Dallon, they both knew. Neither said it out loud.

"Of course." He rocked back and forth on his heels, vaguely aware of Dallon's eyes giving him a once-over. Suddenly self-conscious, maybe he should have brushed his hair, he gestured toward the direction of the kitchen. "Um, my parents are in the kitchen, if you wanna go say hi."

"Of course." She smiled and ruffled Dallon's hair, the universal mother's sign for 'be good', before she handed her son the wrapped present and disappeared with the flowers still in hand.

When she was gone, Dallon turned back toward Brendon and smiled as he took off his shoes and coat. Brendon waited patiently, watched him hang his coat up politely, tugging on the sleeves of his red sweater. "Um, she got your parents flowers as a thank you for inviting us over. I told her that that would be cheesy but she said she didn't care. They deserve it. And, um..." He held out the wrapped present awkwardly, taking Brendon aback, "this is for you."

He accepted the perfectly wrapped present, heart fluttering, and he really didn't have to do that. Brendon wasn't expecting him to, and it wasn't even like Dallon knew he would be spending the day, and... "Dal, you shouldn't have."

"You're my best friend, I wanted to." He insisted with an awkward little punch to his bicep, the just friends punch, and every signal was mixed and Brendon didn't know what to think so he wasn't going to think anymore. He just smiled, let himself laugh a little. Enjoyed whatever this was while it lasted.

"I'm totally kidding, I would've kept your present for myself if you didn't get me one." He joked, and Dallon's eyes softened suddenly when Brendon reached out to grab at his wrist. "Come with me. Yours is in here. I left it under the tree. For the novelty, you know?"

"You got me a gift?"

"Of course I did! You're my best friend, I wanted to." He mimicked riantly, turning to look over his shoulder and grinning when Dallon bit his lip through a smile, watching the boy skip down the hall with childish glee. Making up for some things lost. Just appreciating what he had gained.

The fireplace crackled and the Christmas music still played as Brendon led the boy through the living room and toward the tree, brightly lit and animated like it was impersonating Brendon himself. Dallon waved to Brendon's siblings, and he reached down to pick up the box he'd wrapped messily the day he brought the gift home from his annual Christmas shopping spree with Tyler. He handed it to Dallon, and he cradled it to his chest like it were sacred, smiling inexplicably to himself.

"Open yours first." Dallon insisted while Brendon pulled him into the dining room by the wrist, out of sight from his family. Brendon looked up at him, met his eyes with transience before he carefully tore the wrapping paper off of the present until the color red took the place of it. He let the ripped up, mangled paper fall to the floor. It was a record.

"Tell it to the volcano." He read softly, running his fingers over the thin plastic covering.

"It's Miniature Tigers. The record is hard to find, but the album all together seemed like something you'd really like, so I found it online. I showed you a few of their songs and you said you liked them."

"Yeah, I remember. The really small tigers. This is really thoughtful, Dallon. I love it, thank you." He set the record down safely on the table, brushing his fingers over the cover again. It was hard to find, he had said. "Open yours."

Dallon looked up at him, this warm fondness in his eyes, and set the heavy gift down on the dining room table as he dragged his nails across the paper. He tore it off the top, Brendon's eyes following his fingers eagerly, and his mouth fell open involuntarily, making Brendon giggle. He touched it like it were about to pounce, disbelievingly and speechlessly, and when his fingertips touched the pale wood Brendon grinned, rocking back and forth on his heels in anticipation. He'd spent forever at the art store trying to pick it out, even asked someone for help, but he wanted it to be perfect.

Dallon looked up in disbelief. "Brendon."

"They're oil paints." He gestured to the wooden paint box under Dallon's hand. "I know you said you needed new ones, and I thought it would be perfect. I, um, I looked up the best kinds of oil paints that weren't, like, hundreds of dollars. I didn't know if this set was okay."

"It is perfect, oh my god. And expensive. You didn't have to do this." He shook his head like he couldn't make sense of this, like it meant more than just paint. Like it was something Brendon couldn't decipher, something he wasn't sure he knew he could.

"No, it wasn't a lot. I swear." He crossed his heart. This time of year his parents were generous with their paychecks, and he made good tips around Christmas, anyway.

Unhesitatingly Dallon pulled Brendon into a hug, tighter than the one before. He hooked his chin over Dallon's shoulder and tightened his fingers in the fabric of his sweater to balance himself, suddenly he was seeing stars and hummingbirds above his head, the good kind, feeling dizzy happy. When he went to pull away Dallon tugged him back, shook his head because he wasn't done yet, and Brendon laughed, soft in Dallon's ear.

Dallon's voice was quiet, breath warm, and neither pulled away, wouldn't bother. "This is incredible, Brendon, thank you." He whispered.

"It's really nothing." He insisted.

"No, this is amazing." He pulled away, let a hand linger on Brendon's shoulder before he dropped it to touch the box again, letting out a quiet laugh. "And you wouldn't have kept this for yourself, dork, you don't do art."

Brendon laughed too when Dallon let out a contented sigh, eyes on the box and then flickering up to meet Brendon's like he couldn't seem to look away for too long. Butterflies burst in Brendon's chest and fluttered gently against his caged heart like champagne bubbles popping in clear night skies. Maybe he was too young or maybe it was impossible or maybe it was just some absurd notion but... he was pretty sure that he was falling in love with Dallon Weekes. He put a hand to his chest, felt his heart beat.

"I could if I wanted to. You wanna go upstairs?" He offered, and Dallon nodded, reached out to squeeze his shoulder. Thanked him with his eyes, and Brendon had so much to say with his own. Too much to say.

They gathered their exchanged gifts together and headed up to Brendon's bedroom, simply decorated with a mini Christmas tree and some snow globes. "You're so festive!" Dallon laughed, turning to look at Brendon with good nature, and set his present down on Brendon's desk. Brendon smiled, pretended not to notice Dallon's gaze lingering on the wooden box.

"Dude, I know." He closed the door and crossed the room, set his record down with all his others. "I'm gonna listen to this tonight. I'll let you know what I think of it."

"Cool." Dallon laid down on Brendon's bed, making himself right at home, and pat the mattress beside him. So Brendon fell down beside him like he was in slow motion, like this entire day was just otherworldly. Because Dallon's eyes were shining like starlight, staring up at the ceiling like he knew something Brendon didn't, and maybe Brendon was in over his head after all. "So, I was afraid I'd underdressed, but I think I'm good."

Brendon laughed, and Dallon did too, chest rising and falling beside Brendon's rhythmically and in sync. "Yeah, I would have tried to look nicer, but, well. I think you're more than just a house guest now, and anyway, it's Christmas. You know, I eat too much for jeans on a holiday like this, and leggings aren't quite classy enough..."

"So you go with the basics." Dallon gestured to Brendon's pajamas, blue plaid pants and a white long sleeve with some store's brand name on the front.

"Yes! And I see you brought the glasses." Brendon gestured to Dallon's glasses, accidentally catching his gaze when he dipped his head, not regretting when he did because Dallon's smile got him every time. "Don't see those often."

"Nope. Ran out of contacts. Not that I would've worn them today, anyway, it's just you. It's not like you haven't seen them." He shrugged, and Brendon nodded, turned back toward the ceiling, swallowed. He was just him, and Dallon was just Dallon, but still, that had to mean something.

"I don't wear contacts. They freak me out, having something in my eye like that. I always feel like they're gonna get stuck in my eye and never come out. I've read too many horror stories online. I prefer the world through lenses or totally blurry."

"I've gotten them stuck in my eye before. It's not great, but I don't mind them so much. When they're, y'know, not stuck on my cornea." They both laughed. "I lose my glasses too much to have to wear them every day. Yours, though, I feel like they're a part of you. They're cute." He said, and they turned to look at each other, not on purpose though it felt that way. Brendon's breathing hitched suddenly, a warm breath on his lips, peppermint toothpaste and coffee, cherry vanilla chapstick, and Brendon wanted to taste it. He could just lean in, an inch or two, and... "I see the resemblance. Between you and your siblings and your parents, I mean. You look a lot like your mom and dad." He said suddenly, filling the space between them with minute words.

"I get that a lot," Brendon told him, and Dallon nodded, didn't know what else to say. His blue eyes were wide, gentle like a deer's, and Brendon asked dumbly, "do you look like your dad?"

Dallon's lips twitched into a smile, and Brendon forgot to look away from his mouth. "Yeah. A lot, actually. When he was my age he looked just like me. Everyone tells me so, anyway. It's kinda bittersweet."

"He must've been cute." He whispered, and he didn't even really mean to say it, but Dallon laughed, elbowed him in the side like it was just a joke. Brendon's face burned at the realization, he needed to think before he spoke, but his eyes fixated on Dallon's lips again, his smile, and a little part of him didn’t regret it.

"We were really alike. In a lot of ways." Dallon added, a sweet reminiscence in his voice as Christmas music played downstairs and Brendon tried not to think about how hard this day must be for him.

Brendon shifted to lay on his side to face him, eyes never straying from Dallon's. He wanted to know more. He'd wanted to know more for months, really, and every time he tried he felt like he was crossing a line, because he could only go so far. This thing between them... it could only go so far. It was like he kept tiptoeing and Dallon kept proving that there was no line. Brendon was growing wary, but maybe it was all in vain. "How so?"

"I don't know. He just... always seemed to know what I was gonna do before I did it. He always seemed to get it. It wasn't even just a weird parent intuition thing, he always used to tell me that he knew me so well because he did all the same things at my age. Maybe that makes me predictable." Dallon? Predictable? Anything but. "He was artistic, soft-spoken, but then you got to know him and he was the kind of person that you wanted to keep knowing. He was so friendly, and kind,"

"Just like you," Brendon whispered. Dallon smiled at him, inched closer like it was an instinct. Like they were sharing secrets, wishes they'd included in letters to Santa, things they swore they would never tell. Maybe Dallon had things to get off his chest. Maybe Brendon did too.

"He loved Christmas a lot. For the entire month of December, we decorated and had these traditions and listened to music and went out to look at lights. He wouldn't let me listen to anything else, if he saw me with my headphones on, he would take them out and tell me that only Christmas music was allowed. It got annoying but the truth is I loved it. My mom and I still do that stuff, but everything just seems sadder and I guess it just takes time." He chuckled to himself, cold and resigned. "There was this one Christmas where he tried to make dinner but he ended up burning half of the food. The smoke alarms went off, and it was crazy, but we couldn't salvage any of it, so when the smoke cleared we just went out to eat and we just talked all day. It's the stuff like that that I miss the most. The days that it all seemed terrible and then ended up looking up. I thought when we got the call about the accident that it'd be one of those days, but..." He stopped.

Brendon couldn't tell if it was his impulsive motor cortex or because it was right there, but Brendon shifted his hand just enough to take Dallon's carefully in his own. Dallon let out a quiet breath and tangled his fingers ever so loosely with Brendon's, just enough so they were touching, and that was it. The touch. Because it was always a matter of whether a touch meant more than it did, because Brendon couldn't wrap his head around it anymore. It was so confusing sometimes. But they lay there together on Christmas morning, holding hands again, and Brendon wasn't sure if he was making it up among the sugar plums dancing in his head or if it was actually real. He couldn't seem to tell what was real anymore.

Dallon let out a shaky breath as a few tears slid down his cheeks, pushing himself to sit up with his fingers still tangled in Brendon's, so Brendon followed, heart pounding. "Thank you, Bren, for inviting us to your home. I know you asked me to come because you know my dad isn't here, and it... it means absolutely everything to me to know that you care enough about me to do this. That you care about me at all."

Brendon didn't even know what to say. His head was spinning, tears stained Dallon's cheeks, and he was so warm all of a sudden, like everything was catching up to him. "Of course I care about you."

"I'm really glad I came today. I needed to be with people I love." He pulled Brendon into a hug, dropping his hand, but the feeling lingered and buzzed on Brendon's skin as he hooked his chin over Dallon's shoulder. "I love you. Thank you for being such a good friend."

Brendon nodded, squeezed him tight, didn't dare pull away. But he closed his eyes hard and tried to think, it was all blurring in his head and suddenly he didn't know where they stood. If he stood at all, or if he was reading into it, because maybe it was just that, maybe he was driving himself crazy trying to figure things out, or maybe...

He pulled away, watched tear filled blue eyes focus on his, suddenly too still like he wanted to hear his heart beating. "Dallon." He whispered through a steady breath, because he didn't know what else to say, he didn't know where to start, but he opened his mouth, a confession on the tip of his tongue, and then he stopped. He didn't know what to say, so he wasn't going to say anything. Dallon swallowed, stared at him wordlessly, and Brendon leaned in, or maybe Dallon did first, and their breathing was slow, and he didn't want to close his eyes, and—

"Brendon!"

He jumped back and put a hand to his chest, fuck, he swore his heart stopped, and Dallon laughed, covered his mouth and threw his head back. "Jesus, fuck." He huffed, pulling away to shake his hands, rid them of his nervous energy. He went to stand by his door, cracked it open and called back, "Yeah?"

"Come socialize!" His mother shouted from the bottom of the stairs, and he closed the door again, leaned his back against it.

"I think she just gave me a heart attack," Brendon breathed out, heart still racing, and maybe it wasn't that, but whatever it was he wasn't going to say it. Dallon laughed again, climbed out of Brendon's bed and tugged on the hem of his sweater.

"I think you'd probably be in a lot more pain if that were the case." He figured. Brendon smiled up at him, warm blush on his face, and Dallon added, "She's probably right, though. We should go down."

"Yeah, we should." Brendon turned around to pull the door open again, avoiding his eyes though he could feel them watching him. "Sorry, she's kind of obsessed with us spending time together on holidays. Especially the family ones. You're gonna have to make a lot of conversation and small talk with my brothers and sisters."

He turned to look at Dallon over his shoulder, smiling sheepishly, and Dallon sped up his pace to walk beside him. The din of conversation and quiet Christmas music met their ears as they approached the staircase, and Dallon shrugged, smiled back. "That's okay. I like them. And, um. Listen. I'm sorry, I know that I shouldn't focus on all the bad stuff today, it's just that after only two and a half years it's kind of hard not to. Especially on days like this. Holidays."

"No, Dal, it's okay. I understand." Brendon stopped at the top of the stairs, reached out to place a hand on his arm. "You're my best friend. If you need to talk then I'll listen. I'm here."

"I know you are, Urie, thank you." Dallon nodded, seeded in sincerity. "And I'm sorry I'm like, so emotional. I get this way sometimes. And I act... really off. So. I'm sorry."

Brendon nodded, looked down suddenly so that Dallon wouldn't catch the disappointment in his eyes. Just when he thought that they had reached some solid ground, like he could finally tell where they were and had something tangible to take hold of, it was like Dallon stepped back and this plane tilted off its axis. "Sure, no, it's okay. Like I said, if you need me, I'm here. I don't know how you feel, but..."

"Still. It's nice to talk about with someone you care about." Dallon wrapped an arm around Brendon's shoulders. "Now, c'mon, I wanna go make conversation and small talk with your brothers and sisters!"

Tensing up a little under his arm, Brendon let himself laugh, following him down the stairs. He had tried everything, tried to measure the meaning behind every touch and smile and glance but he couldn't. And he couldn't keep trying, either, because things were getting too confusing. He didn't know what Dallon was thinking, and he was too afraid to ask.

The Christmas music got louder when they stepped into the living room, where Brendon's brothers and Kyla were on the floor talking and their parents had claimed the couch. Still, Dallon crossed the room and went to sit beside his mother, waving Brendon over too. His father excused himself to check on his oldest daughter, still slaving away over the stove, so Brendon stole his seat.

"How you doin', kid?" Dallon's mom asked, patting her son's thigh tactfully, and he shrugged. Turned to look at Brendon with an unreadable look in his eye, warm but not exactly guileless, and then turned to meet hers again.

"Good. Happy."

"Good." She smiled and turned back toward Brendon's mother, sat in the chair by the couch, making idle conversation and telling embarrassing stories about their sons. Given the circumstances Brendon wouldn't always be okay with it, but, well, it was Christmas. So he sat back on the couch, thigh to thigh with Dallon, and maybe he didn't need to know where he stood. He liked this just fine.

Dallon's mom told stories of Christmas when he was young and Dallon blushed, told her to stop, his friend really didn't have to hear that, he insisted, because so what he was scared of the Santa at the mall when he was a child? He knew he was a fake, anyway. Brendon loved the stories, he'd never admit it to Dallon but he loved them, and beside him Dallon wondered if this was what being in a big family was like. If maybe this was what he had missed out on. He wouldn't say it, but he felt welcomed into Brendon's, in one way or another.

Brendon nudged him in the side to get his attention. "Hey, I'll be right back." He whispered, and Dallon nodded, turning back to listen to Brendon's mom telling the story of Brendon's first Christmas. And, well, Brendon was there, he'd heard the story a million times, so he escaped to the kitchen instead.

When Brendon trotted into the kitchen where Kara stood over the stove chatting with her father, they both turned to look at him, not surprised. He always tended to migrate wherever the food was. "Hey, kid. Is Dallon having fun?"

"Yeah." Brendon nodded, crossing the tiled floor in his socks, and outstretched his arms for a hug. He looked down at Brendon in shock, affection had never been his thing, but he hugged him back nonetheless, pat in between his shoulder blades gently and glanced at Kara over his head.

"What's that for, buddy?" He asked once Brendon had pulled away but the boy just shrugged, teetering back and forth on his toes. Sometimes he just got to thinking, was all.

"Dallon was just talking about his dad. Christmas wouldn't be the same without you." He told him. He could see Kara out of the corner of his eye with a smile on her face, saying nothing but he knew what she was thinking. He never missed that look of pride in her eye.

"Oh." His dad pat his shoulder. "Well, he's always welcome to come here when he needs a family. We love him. And I love you."

"I love you too." He said, swallowing thickly because he really, really did. He turned to approach Kara, wrapped his arms around her from behind, and she giggled at the surprise but turned around to envelop him in a real hug, his favorite hug, and he mumbled, "And I love you. Merry Christmas."

"I love you too, little one." She pushed his hair back and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, soft like she used to when he was young, and he pulled away. Smiled up at her brightly, he had so many reasons to smile today, and the floor creaked as quiet footsteps crossed the threshold, under the mistletoe.

Brendon turned to catch Dallon watching him, eyes smiling. "She started telling embarrassing stories about me as a child and I'd really like to not relive those." He said, and Brendon laughed, leaned against the counter, close enough to the stove to smell whatever was in the oven, wondering how many more embarrassing stories about Dallon he'd acquire over this lifetime.

"Dallon, c'mere." Brendon's dad reached out to pull him into a hug. Quietly but sternly, he promised, "We will always be here for you when you need a family or somebody to talk to. You're important to Brendon and you're important to us."

Dallon nodded softly. "Thank you. For inviting me, and for being so kind, for everything. I really needed to be here today."

Brendon's dad pulled away with a firm hand on his shoulder, followed by a solemn nod. "Of course. We love having you."

"Yes we do," Kara added, grinning down at him as Brendon's dad excused himself to join everybody in the living room, ruffling Brendon's already unkempt hair as he went. Just like that, leaving something changed in his tracks.

Brendon took a seat at the head of the table so Dallon sat down too, smiling warmly and inexplicably at Brendon. Thanking him without words, they didn't need those sometimes, Brendon was so good without them. Maybe it was good that Dallon was becoming a part of the family, even if it wasn't the way Brendon had wanted him to become a Urie, because wedding bells weren't quite the same as sleigh bells. But maybe that meant something for their friendship, something unspoken but extant. Both of them felt it, though neither wanted to taint it with words.

"How's dinner coming along?" Brendon grabbed at a piece of celery with peanut butter resting on a glass platter and nibbled on it, already hungry again after a big breakfast.

"Very well. We should be ready to eat around two."

"Do you need any help with anything, Kara?" Dallon asked, feeling a little guilty for not having offered his help in the first place, but Kara shook her head; he was a guest.

"No, sweetie, but thank you for asking." She turned to look at him pleasantly. "But if you wanna bring the celery to the living room, I wouldn't mind."

"I'll do it." Brendon volunteered, gesturing to his friend to tell him to relax a minute while he reached out for the platter. He held it like he was serving at the diner and carried it out of the room, so Dallon turned to watch Kara move around the kitchen instead, pulling a knee to his chest, heel on the edge of the chair.

"Enjoying the Urie Christmas?" She asked suddenly, turning around when she felt his vision settle aimlessly on her back. He looked up to meet her eyes and nodded quickly in response, realizing she was talking to him, seemingly distracted though she didn't know what for. But she smiled through red lips anyway, turned to fold her arms over her chest. She looked a lot like Brendon, had the same eyes, a smaller nose, and Dallon had realized it earlier but never really took it into account.

"I am. Brendon's so sweet." He said, playing with the ring on his finger, and added, "I mean, you all are. It was really nice of him to invite us."

"What were your plans before this?"

Dallon shrugged, leaning back in his chair, and she twisted the flame up on one of the burners. He hadn't had a big Christmas dinner in years. "Nothing, really. My mom and I haven't done much for Christmas since my dad died. We just hang out."

She bit her tongue, she had completely forgotten, but Dallon began to shake his head before she could even apologize. "Yeah, right. Brendon did mention it. I'm sorry about that, sweetie. That's a lot for a boy your age to handle."

"Thank you. It was really hard, and... well, it's still hard. But it was a couple of years ago, you know, and after that you learn to live with it. I've figured out how to cope. Even when sometimes it feels impossible. Actually, Brendon's been really helpful lately. He doesn't know it, but he's really comforting." He shrugged a little awkwardly and looked down to play with the sleeves of his sweater.

"I get that. He always has been. He's one of those people." She gave him a smile just then like she knew more than she let on, but said nothing. "He's a good kid." She added, and Dallon turned to look when he heard Brendon's soft footsteps, distinct in the way he walked.

He looked between Brendon and Kara, leaving the boy to wonder. "I agree."

Dallon kicked at Brendon's feet under the table during dinner, smiling cheekily and pretending he wasn't as everyone talked over each other and laughed, sharing stories that Brendon couldn't hear over the sound of blood rushing in his ears when Dallon captured his socked foot in between his own and giggled like he were the only one in on the joke. Brendon kicked at him too, stuck his tongue out when no one else was looking, but he couldn't help but think that this was the best Christmas he'd ever had.

As the night fell and Dallon's mother insisted they not overstay their welcome, Brendon stood awkwardly in the front room to see his guests out. "Thank you for today, Urie." Dallon had whispered in his ear before he had left, leaving a warm blush on Brendon's cheeks that lingered long after he was gone.

Tyler was already logged onto his Skype account when Brendon got upstairs and opened his laptop, grinning dumbly to himself, and Tyler was going to have a field day when Brendon told him. His pixelated face was smiling as the line connected, Tyler's grandparents' house had shitty connection for the suburbs of Ohio, but nonetheless Brendon waved, letting the video lag for a second. "Hi!"

Tyler bounced giddily. "Hi, sexy! You look happy. What's goin' on? How was your Christmas?"

"Really good." That one was an understatement. "How was yours?"

"Awesome. I love visiting family. Even when the shitty homophobic ones are there too. It's really fun to tell stories about how much I adore my boyfriend, they get these scrunched up dirty looks on their faces and it's hilarious. And I told my cousins all about what it's like to be a sinner. I may have convinced one to be gay."

“Good! Add to our small army! We go to war in a month." He nodded his head toward the screen, still smiling stupidly. "Hey, speaking of, I have something really good to tell you. You’re gonna be happy.”

Tyler perked up, and if Brendon didn’t know better, he would swear Tyler was part dog with the senses he had. “Dallon?”

How could he tell? “Yeah. Duh. So, like, this morning I called him to say merry Christmas, and he said he wasn’t doing anything, y'know. Cause of his family thing." Tyler nodded in understanding. "And I felt bad, and like... he's a really good friend. And I didn't want him to be alone on Christmas. So I kind of invited him over, and he and his mom spent the entire day with us.”

Tyler put a hand to his heart, eyes softening, and Brendon bit back a laugh. So much had happened in just a few hours, so much he swore was real and some he felt wasn't. On some of it, the jury was still out. “Holy shit, B, that’s fucking adorable. You spent Christmas together. What did you guys do?”

He traced his finger over the trackpad lazily. “Um, we gave each other presents and talked a lot and just hung out, kind of, you know? He told me about his dad and I accidentally called him cute but it wasn't weird. Nothing is weird with him. And— and we were getting into this really deep thing and we kind of... held hands. It wasn’t romantic or anything, but it was sweet. The whole day was.”

He stuck out his bottom lip. “Oh my god. He held your hand. The plan is going swimmingly!”

Brendon paused and blinked at him; they hadn't discussed any plan. “What plan?”

“Operation Brendon and Dallon Urie Weekes, duh! God, Brendon, you never pay attention to me.” He lowered his voice, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Now at this rate, you should be married with children by this time next year.”

Brendon rolled his eyes and let out a laugh, that didn't sound so unappealing, but holding hands never meant anything more than it did. Besides, it was just Dallon. Who knew what meaning lied in it? “Okay, buddy, pace yourself. I'll need a couple of years, at least.”

“I know, I know. But it could happen! You’ve seen all those teen dramas on TV.”

“They’re on TV for a reason, Ty. They’re not real.” Brendon tried to argue, but Tyler waved him off like that was just a formality, anyway.

“Shhh.” Tyler shushed him, placing a finger on his webcam, and Brendon rolled his eyes again. “Listen, I know you very well and I happen to know quite a bit about Dallon. Maybe you don't, but I do. I've got eyes everywhere, tiny. And you guys would be perfect together, so please keep your eyes open for any opportunities. You and Dallon being together would be a real dream come true.” Tyler winked before Brendon could say another word. “I have to go, baby Urie, my family wants to watch another Christmas movie, my mom has been texting me for ten minutes. I’ll talk to you when I get home and we can hang out, sound good?”

Brendon gave him a warm smile and tugged at the hem of his shirt. Eyes everywhere? “Sounds perfect. Love you.”

“Love you more, Urie. Peace.” He held up a peace sign, waved it around in front of the webcam, and they blew each other air kisses before Brendon hung up and closed his laptop. Just like that another Christmas had gone by, another year over, another change made.

He climbed out of bed and made his way over to his record player, where Dallon's gift was waiting. He swayed in place for a second, smiling to himself though he didn't even realize, and when he went to pick up the record, a little piece of paper slipped out of the sleeve and fluttered to the ground gracefully, landing right in front of his fuzzy sock-covered feet. Confused, Brendon bent down to pluck it off the floor and turned it over in his palm to read the neat scrawl of Dallon’s handwriting.

BU-

You’ve become one of the greatest friends I’ve ever had in these past few months. I appreciate the way you came into my life. Our friendship was inevitable. Merry Christmas, Brendon Urie. Thank you for changing my life. I look forward to spending so much more time with you.

-DW

Warmth spread over his cheeks and his heart started pounding as he reread the note once, twice, five times, ten, before he set it down carefully on the desk and pulled the record out, a shiny red, and placed it down. As the needle scratched the first groove he sat on the edge of his bed, closed his eyes. It felt like his heart had been training for a marathon for months, it just made so much sense but somehow none at all. He didn't know, either, when he had started to not care about not making sense.

Brendon: the record is good, the note was better. you changed my life too

Dallon: in a good way, hopefully

Brendon: in a very good way. merry christmas dallon

Dallon: merry christmas Urie

Brendon smiled again, set his phone down and listened. He had gotten good at that, listening, over the course of a few months where a boy changed his life and he changed his too. Things started to feel different, that night as Brendon grinned up at the ceiling or the next night when Dallon called just to talk or the night after that, where Brendon sat in the passenger seat of Dallon's car, dreaming and making wishes on stars out the window and pretending not to notice the crystal blue eyes settled on his features, contoured by the moonlight and warm.

Maybe Dallon was aware that he was exceeding Brendon's expectations, maybe he had figured it out from the start. Maybe he knew that he was throwing Brendon's entire life off course, too. And maybe... well, maybe Brendon was starting not to care so much.


	9. Chapter 8: Outlawed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment ya'll I need motivation!!

Things shifted when Christmas vacation transitioned into a new school year. It was unspoken but Dallon and Brendon's lunch tables had met in the middle somewhere along the line, leaving the five of them sitting together talking about their winter breaks like nothing had changed, like a few weeks ago Brendon hadn't sat alone across the room with Tyler, wondering when it'd be okay to touch bases. Dallon was the one who had taken a seat with Brendon first, and everyone else just seemed to... fall in line.

“Can I sit here?” Dallon had asked. And Brendon stuttered out a yes, shocked and blushing stupidly.

And then suddenly it was like everything was different. Like the end of the year was a shift that became a fresher, more hopeful new one, like untouched snow, pure and pristine. Brendon didn't mention it, but it hid like his tongue in his cheek when Dallon sat across from him.

"I swear, every year they ask more and more questions. I'm starting to wonder why their mother still lets them speak to me," Tyler was rambling just when Brendon caught Dallon smiling at him, perhaps subconscious though his eyes softened when Brendon smiled back.

Lunch was becoming the best part of the day. Not that it wasn’t always, but Brendon got used to a smiling Dallon sitting across from him every day before he and Tyler walked their trays over to their table. Ryan would always be talking about something weird, some conspiracy theory or something in that vein, and Josh would listen and Tyler would tell them that come on, there was no such thing as aliens. But Brendon would pay no attention, he’d only stare at Dallon and make it the most obvious thing in the world.

It was like it was becoming a game. Brendon didn’t know what he was doing, or what Dallon was doing, either, but it was unfamiliar and strange. Not bad strange, just... strange.

On Tuesday they started to trade things for lunch because Dallon didn’t really like the chocolate milk the school bought and Brendon preferred it to their weird sugar free fruit punch cups, anyway. Wednesday, he kicked at Dallon’s converse under the table with his own, and Dallon kicked back, playfully ran his foot up the side of Brendon’s leg, making him feel it through his leggings and shiver. He wiggled his eyebrows, made Brendon blush but grab at his foot with both of his own and pull his sneaker off for revenge. On Thursday, Dallon blew his straw wrapper at Brendon, and Brendon shoved him under the table, and Dallon shoved back, and somehow laughing and pushing each other’s knees became loosely knotting their fingers together where no one could see. And it only lasted a minute before Dallon let go to go refill his water bottle, but that was just what best friends did.

Brendon felt himself draw closer to Dallon, closer than he had been, and he swore Dallon felt it too. Because every once in a while Dallon would glance up and smile at Brendon out of nowhere, like there was something he wanted to say but didn't. And Brendon would laugh in embarrassment, ask what he was smiling at, and Dallon would shake his head, say nothing. He thought of something funny, or he was remembering something Brendon had said once in passing. Thinking of something that reminded him of him. Brendon couldn't decipher it, exactly, but it always made him wonder. He was just getting so sick of wondering, nowadays.

As the week melted into weekend Brendon tried to weasel Dallon into studying with him, which actually meant playing Mario Kart after everyone had gone to bed until they couldn't keep their eyes open and then falling asleep on the couch. But Dallon had plans with Ryan and his brother, home from college until the new semester started, and Tyler was out with Josh, and suddenly he was alone again. He didn't like being alone so much when he had time to think.

Maybe he was looking too far into things. Maybe the sketch of himself Dallon had given him during math class, tucked and folded neatly in his back pocket, said otherwise.

"Brendon, you're home!" His dad waved him over as he kicked his sneakers off in the front room. Everyone was gathered in the living room, his parents standing and his siblings on the couch, Kara perched on the arm of the chair. He looked at them in confusion, nobody had announced a family meeting, and watched his pink socks step across the wood floors as he went to stand with them.

"What's going on?" Brendon asked, not bothering to mask the anxiety in his throat. They never held impromptu family meetings. Not unless something was wrong, really wrong, or-

"Nothing is wrong, don't worry. But your mother and I aren't going to be home for the weekend." At that, they all perked up, trying to hide their intrigue, horrible actors as they were.

"A friend of mine called to tell me that she's getting married in California this weekend." Their mother chimed in, and Brendon sat up, accidentally bumping his leg against Kyla's. He hadn't been home without his parents in a long time. "Her wedding was in a few months, but she and her fiancé decided to ditch the big wedding and get married this weekend instead. She wants me there, though, and you guys can't come, so Kara, you are in charge. I'm gonna leave some money for food, but you know where to find it and how to cook if you need anything. We're leaving tonight, closing the diner for the weekend and coming back Sunday. We'll be checking in periodically so please don't do anything stupid."

"Okay. I'll keep them safe." Kara nodded obediently, barely avoiding the gazes of her brothers and sister. Finally Brendon had a weekend off, he could sleep in, and he smiled, maybe he'd catch up on homework while he didn't have to work. His parents nodded and dispersed to pack their things, already late thanks to Brendon choosing to walk home alone.

"Are you all thinking what I'm thinking?" Matt asked quietly, what a cliché, as they all stood up and managed to gather in the middle of the room.

"Sleep?" Brendon suggested, and Matt nudged his shoulder as if he were joking.

"Party," Matt said instead, and that was a terrible idea, that was the worst idea, this was his weekend off, but his siblings nodded, even Kara, and Brendon folded his arms, shook his head no. The looked at him in disbelief, but they could hate him all they wanted. Matt sighed. "Brendon."

"No. No, I'm not gonna get in trouble because you guys wanna get drunk with a bunch of random people. Go somewhere else to do it, but not here. I don't want people drinking in my house." He lowered his voice to a whisper, suddenly embarrassed. "I don't want people having sex in my house!"

"I hate to break it to you, little brother," Mason put a hand on his shoulder, "but a lot of people have had sex in this house. Just because someone didn't know how to come until, like, ten minutes ago doesn't mean-"

"Stop," Brendon warned, that was just a low blow, and Matt snorted, Kara glared, rolled her eyes, and reached out to put a hand on the back of Brendon's head. Playing that sisterly love card, but he thought she was better than that.

"Brendon," Kara sighed, ruffling the youngest's hair. "I promise everything will be copacetic. We won't make you drink, we won't have drugs in the house, and you can invite someone to keep you company. When's the last time we did something fun like this all together, huh?"

"We're siblings! We live and work together! If you wanna hang out, let's go for a walk or to the park or something. Let's watch a movie! We'll have the TV all weekend! I'll even let you watch scary movies, and you know how much I hate those." He bargained. A party was objectively the worst possible way to spend the weekend. He wanted his peace, his quiet, his alone time. He wanted to be able to go into his kitchen for a snack without pushing past a bunch of drunk guys standing by a keg. Oh, god, they were going to order a keg, weren't they?

"Bren, we're doing it with or without you. Majority rules." Kyla shoved his shoulder too, gentler than his brother had, and he made a noise of discontent as he stepped out of the circle. Watching them conspire without him, he didn't want to be a part of it anyway, he retreated back up to his room, past where his parents were packing, and closed his door safely behind him. It was a last resort, he knew he shouldn't even ask, but as he laid on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, he realized that he didn't want to do it alone.

Brendon: please tell me you're not busy tomorrow

Dallon: I'm not busy tomorrow, why? desperate for attention?

Brendon: just yours ;)

Brendon: no my siblings are throwing a party cause my parents will be out of town for the weekend and I need someone to help me hold down the fort, I would ask Tyler but he's busy all weekend and I really don't want to be alone

Dallon: so I'm just your second choice. I thought you loved me

Brendon: u would be my first choice but I kinda need someone who's aggressive and u know,,, if anyone is aggressive it's tyler

Brendon: also u wear cardigans

Dallon: that's sound logic I forgive you

Dallon: but yeah lemme sleep over and you have yourself a deal

Dallon: and you have yourself a Dal

Dallon: Ryan asked why I'm laughing at my phone

Dallon: please help

Brendon: The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. For more information, press 1.

Dallon: shut up

Brendon: u can sleep over if u leave your bad puns at home I don't allow them in my house they're just shameful and embarrassing

Dallon: no bad puns? not sure I can commit to that.

Brendon: well then maybe you're just a bad friend

Dallon: hey I'm helping you hold down the fort >:( I'm the best friend

Brendon: you're like literally the worst

Dallon: but you like literally don't even believe that

Brendon: u see right through me

Dallon: am I wearing my x-ray glasses again? shoot, I didn't even realize

Brendon: dallon you're so pitiful please stop

Dallon: :)

Brendon locked his phone and dropped it onto his chest in exasperation, craning his neck back and letting his eyes fall shut. He didn't want to have a party. He didn't want people to dance and grind and make out on his couch or against his kitchen counters, he didn't want them seeing his baby pictures on the walls or stealing his soda from the fridge. He didn't want anything to do with it. His siblings should have known better. He had half a mind to tell his parents right then, but he wasn't a snitch. His siblings would be out for blood if he told on them, over sixteen years in the Urie household taught him that much.

The next afternoon Brendon stood by as Dallon slid his shoes off in the front room, placing them neatly against the wall. “In case I haven’t said it, I’m really grateful for your help. I really don’t want anyone to screw anything up around here.” Brendon extended an arm so Dallon gave him a hug, awkward and one armed with one hand on his waist. "Thank you."

“It’s no problem. I wasn't busy. And I get to hang out with you, anyway, so it’s totally worth it.” Brendon’s heart fluttered. “Why are they doing this, anyway?”

Brendon guided Dallon to the stairs, past the kitchen where his siblings were setting up snacks and alcohol that Kara had gotten early that morning. “Because they're try-hards. They wanna be cool.” Brendon raised his voice so he could make sure they heard him. They glared at him and Dallon waved anyway, tried to smile even though his brothers and Kyla shot Brendon dirty looks.

“You’re just jealous cause you have no friends,” Mason called.

Brendon scowled at him and wrapped an arm around Dallon’s side possessively. “Says who?!” He retorted behind Dallon's back, making Dallon burst out into laughter and his sibling roll their eyes.

“Leave him alone. It’s not worth it,” Kyla mumbled to her brother, keeping her gaze away from Brendon's as she sorted out the bottles of alcohol on the kitchen counter. Maybe if Brendon wasn’t so angry with them, he’d organize the bottles so they actually made sense. Maybe.

Rolling his eyes too, Brendon led Dallon upstairs and into his room with a hand on the small of his back. “We can go hold down the fort when people get here, I guess.” He waved a hand toward the door as he pushed it shut, and Dallon took a seat on the edge of his bed. It would be such a perfect opportunity to have Dallon alone if they were together. Parents out of town, siblings occupied, no interruptions... but those weren't thoughts that Brendon was allowed to have. He shook his head, leaned against the door.

“Cool. I'm all for fort holding. You are gonna feed me though, right? I believe food was in the contract.”

Brendon pat his back as he sat down beside him with a grunt, and Dallon pulled his legs up to rest his heels against the bed frame. “There was no contract, buddy. You're here for one reason. But I guess you can eat something. As long as it’s not party food. We can’t succumb to the horrors of the high school party.” He said like it was the scariest thing since whatever the most recent horror movie was, he didn't really pay attention to new releases, and Dallon half smiled.

“Even if it’s just a chip?”

“Not even a crumb, Dallon.”

“Well, you’re absolutely no fun.” Dallon laid back on the bed with a sigh, arching his back in a stretch and reaching out to poke at his side. “Why don’t you wanna be a part of this, anyway? What are you so scared of? I mean, I’m not condoning underage drinking and throwing parties when your parents aren’t home and breaking rules, but your siblings seem to have things under control.”

“That’s cause no one’s here yet,” Brendon reasoned. “You’ve seen those high school house parties on TV.”

“That doesn’t mean that’s how it’ll go. Have some faith in them.” Dallon punched his upper arm, made him force a smile. Dallon didn't entirely get it, maybe no one did, but Brendon just wanted it to stop. He didn't know how else to explain it. "I'll still help though, okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Brendon punched him back, and then again, Dallon didn't have to get it. No one ever did, anyway.

Music blared downstairs and Brendon winced as he led Dallon downstairs. They took a seat a few steps above the bottom, just close enough to be able to look out into the living room where people flooded in, college students, seniors in high school, anyone who knew the Urie siblings. Nobody Brendon knew, though.

He could have stayed at Dallon's, could have so easily avoided all of this, but the thought of people he didn't know in his house, his room, maybe his bed... he shook his head and looked away from a girl wearing next to nothing grinding against some guy clearly a few years older. Wasn't she cold? Maybe all the friction made her warmer. "This is gross." He muttered, making Dallon turn to catch a glimpse of the party.

"Yeah, I know." He agreed through ear-splitting music, folding his arms over his chest.

Brendon watched the living room and Dallon watched the kitchen as they played virtual battleship, their backs against opposite sides of the staircase. A few people had wandered past, looking for the bathroom and somewhere to be alone with someone, but Dallon told them it was out of order, shooing them away. Not a very graceful lie, but Brendon's messy marker on printer paper signs of OFF LIMITS and DO NOT ENTER taped on the railing had to clue them in sometime.

The night drawled out long, too long, and as the music was thumping Brendon's head was starting to hurt. This was a stupid idea. It was stupid, and he should just tell his parents, it wasn't like they weren't going to find out. His siblings were terrible liars. He could have called them, have them shut it down. But he couldn't. That wasn't him.

"This music sucks," Dallon said, hanging his head.

Brendon put his head in his hands. "I know."

"Like, God, if you're gonna throw an outlawed party, the least you can do is play good music."

Brendon half smiled and tilted his head back against the wall, watching as Dallon pushed his hair back and sighed. "I'm glad you're not bitter."

"I've been bitter since the womb." He stuck his leg out to push at Brendon's arm with his sock-covered foot. "This is kind of crazy, Urie. I couldn't imagine all these people partying in my house. Touching all my stuff."

"I'm trying to shut it all out. I may be watching them on the outside, but I'm playing mini golf in my head right now." He pointed to his head with a comical eyebrow raise. "I'm winning."

Dallon let out a laugh and folded his arms, craning his neck to cast a glance out toward the crowd of people dancing in the living room. There was a lot of drunk stumbling and a lot of dancing, trashy dancing, guys wearing jeans down past their asses and showing off their boxers, girls wearing short shorts and next to nothing. All trying so hard to fit in, acting and looking desperate.

"I wonder if that guy Aidan is here," Brendon said thoughtfully as he looked around, squinting through his glasses at the crowd.

"Who's that?" Dallon asked, perhaps with conviction in his voice.

"Mason's really hot friend." Brendon turned to look at him over his shoulder when Dallon raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What? I'd never actually like someone in college. Someone who's twenty-one. Five years older than me. I could never. But I can look."

"That you can," Dallon agreed, sketched through a laugh, and Brendon shrugged with a smile as he sat back against the stair and observed, feeling like an outsider looking in.

They made small talk as music blared and people laughed, danced, partied, the two of them watching everybody else have fun though they had enough fun of their own, getting to know each other and making their own memories. Brendon denied a cup of beer when some wasted college guy brought it over to him, called him the chief governor of the stairs, and Dallon shook his head when he offered it to him instead.

There were a few things he saw that he really wished he hadn’t, like Kyla taking her top off, thank God she had something underneath, and letting some guy he'd never seen do a body shot off of her. She was one of those girls, craving attention, dancing with everyone, but he never materialized it. He never wanted to. He turned away and buried his face in Dallon’s shoulder as he pat his arm sympathetically. Brendon hated high school.

The idea of stopping people from having sex in his family’s bedrooms was making his stomach churn, even as Dallon did all the work, telling people that he'd call in a noise complaint if someone so much as dared to show bare skin in this house. Brendon didn't know he had it in him. A girl with messy hair tugged a disoriented boy toward the stairs, barely stopping until Dallon leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and glared. “Where you going?”

The girl looked between them dumbly and pointed to the stairs. “Upstairs.”

“No you’re not.”

She blinked at him, confused. “Um, yes we are?”

“Party’s downstairs only, sorry.” Dallon made a dismissive hand gesture, telling them to get lost, and Brendon smiled to himself when the girl rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, the boy's wrist in her grip. "God, I mean, it's like they can't read." He nodded his head toward Brendon's signs.

Brendon reached out to nudge his arm, half smiling thankfully. Without Dallon he probably would have given up hours ago, locked himself in his room and hid under the covers. "Thank you for everything today, Dal, I knew you were the right one for the job."

Dallon crossed his arms again, nodding like he was tough. “I can be intimidating when I wanna be.” He said, and Brendon smiled because no he couldn't, he knew it and Dallon did too, and Dallon couldn't bite back a smile. “Hey, aside from all the creepy high school and college kids, this is kinda fun. Just talking.”

Brendon nodded and settled back against the wall. “Yeah, it is.” He looked out toward the party again, where he could spy Mason and some girl making out with two red solo cups in their hands. His own brother. “Do you ever drink?”

Dallon shrugged, shook his head. “Nah. Not often. I mean, I had a glass of wine at my dad’s funeral, my aunt insisted, and some champagne at a wedding once, sips here and there when I was going through a lot, but that’s it. I never really get drunk. Not having any control over your thoughts and stuff... I just wanna be able to live my own life, unobstructed.”

“Me too.” Brendon looked over at him to observe the way he watched Brendon too, trying to picture him on the other side of the railing. But he couldn't, because that wasn't Brendon. This version of him was better, anyway. Dallon stretched out his legs, tilting his head back, and Brendon added, “I’ve never drank anything. No funerals or weddings or parties or whatever.”

“Good. Don’t. You're kind of innocent.” Dallon half smiled at him, didn't say that that was what he liked about him. Reached out to nudge his upper arm with his sock-covered foot again to get his attention. “These parties must run long. We’re gonna be up a while.”

“Hopefully everyone gets bored and goes home,” Brendon said, tone sketched through a laugh, and there was that innocence, that hope. Dallon smiled and Brendon smiled back, maybe too wide, and as he shifted to sit up and move closer, Mason cleared his throat. Brendon startled, turned to catch his brother standing there with the girl's hand in his own, looking bored, and shook his head. “Oh no, you’re not taking anyone to your room. No one is. Upstairs is off limits. Read the sign.”

“Brendon.” Mason leaned down and grabbed his face in his hand, making a tiny Brendon’s eyes widen and Dallon sit up warily. “Let me by or I’m going to piss in your bed. While you’re in it.”

Knowing damn well it wasn’t an empty threat, Brendon scooted over toward Dallon to make room and let them through passively, flashing Dallon a look only to be returned with one he couldn’t even think of deciphering. “You still want siblings?”

Dallon shook his head quickly. “I’m good, actually.” He said, and Brendon leaned against the wall with a sigh. "You know, your brother's kinda hot."

"What?!" Brendon smacked him innately but didn't apologize when Dallon pulled away with a laugh. "Ew, no he's not."

"Yeah he is!" Dallon folded his arms, reaching out with his socked foot to kick at Brendon's playfully like he was insinuating something. "Your whole family is like, gorgeous. You gotta know that."

Brendon looked away, definitely blushing, and it had to mean something, but everything felt like it did these days. "Stop."

"I'm serious, Brendon. Look in the mirror someday. That's all I'm saying. Can I please have something to eat now? You promised you'd feed me."

He got up to go check the kitchen without a response and Brendon sat up, watching him speechlessly because sometimes he just really didn't understand Dallon Weekes. "Yeah." He called, getting up to follow him and turning to watch the stairs worriedly. "Yeah, I'll find something in the fridge."

People didn't start leaving until it was pushing two and Brendon was half asleep on the staircase again, Dallon's head on his shoulder. A lot of the crowd had dispersed, leaving a few stragglers and his siblings, an almost empty keg and trash everywhere. But it wasn't Brendon's problem. Not tonight, anyway. He reached out blindly to take Dallon's hand, half asleep and not even realizing it, and dragged him up to his room.

"So what is it, Urie?" Dallon asked sleepily once Brendon had closed the door and Dallon had begun to change into his pajamas. Brendon took a seat on his bed, crossing his legs, and Dallon added, "I mean, why'd you need me tonight? Why not enjoy it before they get in trouble? Not that I'm advising teenage partying, I think it's a bad idea, but you could get away with a lot. You could find some cute older guy in there and kiss him and have a drink and have fun with your siblings. That hot guy your brother is friends with. Anyone. You could. So why not do it?"

"Um..." Brendon shrugged, tilting his head to the side while Dallon climbed in across from him and grabbed a blanket to pull up over his lap. "I have these, like, anxiety problems. It's not that bad, and it's not always like that, it's just that sometimes I don't do well around other people. I just get really overwhelmed sometimes. Especially with everyone on top of each other. In my house sometimes, with all the people who are here every day, it's scary for me. I mean, back when I was scared of people, I had a really hard time being around them, and it's not anywhere near as horrible as it had been, but stuff like this really scares me. Big crowds, dangerous things, my parents being away. I know it sounds childish, but it just doesn't feel... safe."

Dallon nodded softly in understanding, playing absently with the fringe of a throw blanket. "I get it."

"Besides, I don't like parties. I don't wanna drink, I don't wanna be hungover or grind on random people or look stupid. It's not me. And anyway, I'm not gonna give my first kiss to some random guy that's friends of a friend of my brother or sister or someone who isn't ever going to actually like me."

He looked away, scratching absently at his ankle, avoiding Dallon's gaze. But he caught him shaking his head out of the corner of his eye, following his blush. "No, I get it. I wouldn't either."

Brendon looked up at him, thumbed absently at his bottom lip like he'd been imagining it, the feeling of Dallon's. "You've never..."

Dallon shook his head. "I have. But it wasn't a stranger. I'd never..." He shrugged because he didn't seem to see it as a big deal, but Brendon shifted his weight, feeling something drop deep down in his stomach. "It was a friend. A few times, but... no. Nothing else. I mean, some guy made out with my neck once, that's a long story I kind of don't want to get into, but..."

Brendon folded his arms, blocked it out, he didn't want to know. He wouldn't let himself think about it. It was all in the past. “Yeah. I don’t know." He agreed, trying to feel out whether they were on all the same pages. "I don’t wanna do anything sexual with somebody that I’m not with. I’m not even ready for something like that. Sex. Y’know.”

“Oh, no, I mean, I’ve done stuff before.” Dallon corrected him, and Brendon’s stomach twisted, why did he have to bring it up, why didn’t he just leave it alone, but Dallon quickly added, “I mean, not sex. I don’t know why I said that. That didn’t make me sound as cool as I thought it would. No, I haven’t had sex. Not real sex, anyway.”

“So fake sex, then?” He tried to make a joke out of it, but anxiety burned in his chest all of a sudden.

“We’ll call it less than sex, but more than making out.” He figured, and Brendon hoped he didn’t catch his uncomfortable squirm. “I see where you’re coming from, though. It’s a big deal. I was going through a lot whenever I did shit that wasn’t in my nature. I’m different now. I would never sleep with someone that I’m not completely comfortable with. I'm not that kind of person. I'm picky. And I don't want to do any of that stuff until I know how I feel about someone, you know? Until they feel the same about me. I don't wanna make that mistake again."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Brendon reached out to shove his knee a little, trying not to picture his lips on someone else's because it didn't even matter. Not anymore. He had to tell it to himself until he believed it. "Thank you for doing this for me. I know it was boring, and we could have done something more fun, yelling at dirty couples and eating a frozen pizza isn't as good as a party, but... I hate having to be alone. You made me feel less alone tonight."

"Good, Urie, I'm glad," Dallon said, shoving his knee back. He didn't say that Brendon made him feel less alone, too.

* * *

Brendon stirred when distant voices called for him, leaving him wondering if he were still dreaming. He rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow, they were too loud, it was too early, and managed to accidentally elbow Dallon in the shoulder in the process. He recoiled, shoving a knee into Brendon's leg in retaliation as his siblings yelled, more tangible now. He hadn't even woken up completely yet.

Dallon only shifted to nudge Brendon under the covers. “Shut them up.” He demanded. Brendon whined, nuzzling his head in the pillow even further, warm and inviting, and Dallon turned over onto his side and curled up against his back. It was cold, somebody had opened a window in the night and forgot to shut it. "Brendon, please, shut them up."

Dallon tangled his fingers in the back of Brendon's sweater loosely like he could've made him but suddenly lost the energy, and as Brendon began to settle down again his door opened and he glanced up to see Kyla glaring at him like this was all his fault, like he hadn't told them that this was going to happen. Somebody needed to start listening to him. “Brendon, get your ass up and help us.” She growled. He shook his head half-heartedly and muttered incoherently in response. “Bren, we need you. Mama and daddy are on their way home and we all overslept and you have to help us clean up.”

“Not my party,” Brendon mumbled.

“Come on. Please. I'll do anything. I'll owe you. C'mon." She begged, and he would have made her bow at his feet if they weren't so warm under the covers.

He sighed until there was no more air in his lungs, knew it would take everything in him, and pushed himself up. Blood rushed to his head and he felt dizzy, he'd barely slept, and behind him Dallon sniffled and curled up, so welcoming, and Brendon said with conviction, “I fucking hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved him off, she was sure he didn’t mean it. Today, he did. “They’re gonna be home soon. Hurry up.”

She disappeared before Brendon could roll his eyes at her. He told them that this was their mess, and that they were going to have to deal with it. He told them, so why didn't they hear him? He grabbed at his glasses blindly and slipped them on, he wasn't going to give them a reason to hate him, and turned to shake Dallon awake. “Dal.”

“No.” Dallon turned over and dug his face into the pillow, why was outside so bright, and Brendon frowned after him. “This is not my mess. Nor is it yours.”

“But I’m a good little brother. And if one of us gets in trouble for something like this, then the rest of us do. That’s how it works in this house. If they get in trouble, then my mom won't let me off.”

"But..." Dallon reached out for him again, coercing him, and Brendon gave in, laid back against his stomach, couldn't really help it. Maybe it wouldn't matter, he was so small, they wouldn't even realize he was gone. He let his eyes slip shut, rose and fell with Dallon's breathing, and-

“Brendon!"

He jolted upright and spooked Dallon in the process. “I’m coming!” He yelled back, for fuck’s sake, and climbed out of bed to search for his phone for the time. But a hand reached out for him, making him stop short, and this really couldn't be his morning. He couldn't walk away from this, couldn't be expected to, and he turned to see wide eyes asking him something he couldn't answer.

“Where are you going? Come back. I’m so cold.” He pouted, sticking out his bottom lip, asking him to stay. Begging him to stay. Brendon glanced down and swallowed thickly, at long fingers looped loosely around his wrist, and he wanted to, God, he wanted to, but...

They really fucking owed him. “I can’t. I'm sorry. I have to help; they’ll literally kill me in my sleep if I don’t." He ran a hand through his hair, second guessing himself. This was his dream. "Feel free to stay in bed, though, I’m sure they won’t be mad if you do.”

“No,” Dallon sat up and wiped at his eyes, “I’ll help for a little while. I can’t stay for long, though, I’ve got volunteering today, and it's in like, an hour. I should grab coffee first, too. I didn't sleep well. I’ll try my best.”

“I'm sorry. That's so much more than enough. Thank you. You really don't have to do this. You’re such a good friend.” Brendon thanked him in a rush, would probably even kiss him if his sister wasn't five seconds away from ripping his body in half.

"Don't worry about it, Urie." He assured him, following sleepily as Brendon started into the hall.

Brendon had almost forgotten how trashed downstairs was. It was a terrible idea. He told them it was a terrible idea, they should have listened, and the first thing he said was "I told you so" before Mason shoved a trash bag in his hand and hissed at him to get to work. And really, for someone who was wasting his morning cleaning for them, they were being real assholes about it.

Dallon helped gather beer bottles and tossed them into a bag for recycling while he and Brendon made conversation about nothing important. Brendon didn't care anymore, let them get in trouble, he had nothing to do with this. He would tell his parents that, too. There was no way they would get away with it. They were on their way home, there was too much to do, wiping sticky counters and vacuuming and throwing the trash away. Of course they wouldn't get away with it.

"Alright, I have to get going. I'm sorry." Dallon nodded his head toward the clock at some point, time had passed so quickly all of a sudden, and Brendon agreed. This wasn't his mess to fix.

"Yeah, you should. I'll get your bag for you." He huffed, happy to take a break, and Dallon went to put on his shoes while Brendon went to grab Dallon's things. It wasn't the night he had wanted, but, well. Dallon ended up in his bed, and Brendon ended up still wondering what it all meant. In the grand scheme of things, though, it felt like clarity didn't matter so much right now.

In the front room, Dallon slid on his jacket and Brendon watched, sleep still in his eyes, movements slow and tired. As Brendon closed the door behind him, he looked up to smile. "Thanks." He accepted his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

"Sure." Brendon fidgeted with his fingers for a second. "Hey, um." He grabbed at Dallon's arm, accidentally getting his wrist, but Dallon didn't pull away, just turned to look. “Listen. Thank you. For, y'know, being here. I was really anxious and I hate being around people, especially people I don't know, and I didn’t want anything bad to happen. There could be a penalty for our diner and everything if we got in trouble with the law. If they found out there was underage drinking and stuff. You’ve seen what goes on on TV, people get drugged or hurt or have sex in random people's beds. No good.”

Dallon let out a genuine laugh and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t mention it. It was kind of fun getting to play guard for the night. Spending time with you was just a bonus.” He offered a bright, shiny grin, and Brendon smiled back, seeded in sincerity. He never would find out just how to thank Dallon, he would discover in time, but sometimes he felt like he found it. “I’ll see you later, Urie. Good luck with everything, okay?”

“Yeah. Thank you.” Brendon let go of his wrist, letting his smile linger even after Dallon was gone.

By the time the sound of his father's car rolled up in the back lot, Brendon had washed his hands in the kitchen sink four times, he never wanted to touch that many used cups or dirty napkins again: the remnants of a party he didn't even want. He'd have to take ten showers just to get the feeling of disgust out from under his nails. They moved the trash bags to the back hall, rushing to hide them as Brendon was on his fifth hand wash, and Kyla had just enough time to grab his shoulder and drag him to the living room before the front door opened.

“Hi!” Kara greeted their parents as they set their suitcases down in the front room, going through the motions of closing the door and taking off their shoes and giving them all hugs even though it had only been two days. Brendon missed them, though, wished they hadn't left.

“How was your weekend?” Brendon’s mom asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her youngest's head.

“Good.” Kara wrapped an arm around her sister and Brendon barely let go of his mother, still a little on edge. "We ordered food and hung out last night. Took advantage of our day off."

“Oh, yeah?" She ruffled Brendon's hair before she let him go. "What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Mason answered, and his parents exchanged skeptical looks as they stepped into the house, looking around blatantly for any signs of a lie. The Uries had never been good at lying, Brendon especially, but he wasn't lying. He had nothing to do with this. He was only keeping their secrets until he couldn't anymore.

“So you guys mean to tell me that absolutely nothing happened? Not a single thing?” She asked doubtingly, catching on to them. Brendon had told them all this would happen. His mother was a smart woman. Smarter than all of them combined.

“Nothing worth mentioning.” Kyla shrugged, and Brendon wiped his face with his sweater sleeve.

Looking like he was searching a crime scene, their father went to check the back hall, and Brendon stood against the wall, knew it wouldn't have lasted longer than two minutes, and there in the back were several full trash bags stashed where no one thought they'd look. He looked at his wife and then at a half-tied bag, full of beer bottles and empty red solo cups, bags of chips, napkins, and Brendon felt the urge to wash his hands again as his mother turned and pointed to the living room, disappointment clear in her gaze.

“Go.”

The house was painfully silent as Brendon followed his siblings and parents toward the living room. He knew they shouldn't have done it. He knew they were gonna end up getting in trouble. He squeezed in between his siblings on the couch, shamefully looking up at his parents, and he wasn't a part of it, he shouldn't even be here, he- “I had nothing to do with it!” He blurted, which got him four looks of disbelief. In his defense, he added, “What?! I didn’t! I didn’t wanna be a part of any of it!”

“So, you guys threw a party when I specifically said that I needed you to behave yourselves for a weekend. A weekend.” She started pacing like a prison guard, and Brendon felt like he was going to vomit. “And did any of you have your partners or somebody else that isn’t just a friend in your rooms with the doors closed?” Four slow, guilty nods, one shake of the head. She turned away, furious. “Great.”

“So our rules mean nothing in this house?” Their father added, and Brendon looked down at his lap, begging himself not to cry. They weren't yelling at him. This wasn't his fault.

“We just wanted to have fun,” Matt muttered.

“And you can have fun without drinking." Brendon's father snapped. "You guys know that there are serious offenses in regard to having alcohol here. Giving alcohol to minors on these grounds can make us lose the diner. We can lose the house.”

Brendon squeezed his eyes shut, they were so loud, he was bad with loud noises. Anxiety buzzed in his fingers and he wanted to go upstairs. “Until further notice, all of you are grounded. I’m talking house arrest grounded. No friends, no partners, no fun, just work and school and home.”

He looked up, shocked. “Mama, you can’t-“

“You know what happens when rules are broken, Brendon.” She snapped.

“I didn’t do anything!” He pleaded, desperate. He never got in trouble like this. He didn't deserve to. He told them he wasn't a part of it, he-

“Mama, he’s telling the truth. He was trying to stop us. We were the ones planning everything.” Kara intervened, putting a hand in front of Brendon as if protecting him from a short stop in a passenger seat. Their mother looked between them in disbelief, skeptical though without reason. Brendon had been scared of people for years, and a party wasn't exactly in the realm of his comfort zone.

“Is this true?” She asked Brendon finally, and he couldn’t nod faster. Tears pooled in his eyes; he didn't want to take the blame. He shouldn't have to. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in that way that moms always did though he never understood why, and then turned to jab a thumb behind her. “Okay, Brendon, go to your room.”

He got up, avoiding the angry glares at his back, and darted up to his room, closing himself in and wiping at his tear-stained cheeks frantically. He hated being yelled at, he hated the noise, and he let out a tremulous breath, went to grab at his phone to text Dallon but he couldn't manage to get it unlocked when tears blurred his vision. He dropped his phone, useless to him, and covered his mouth with his hand when he went to take a seat on his bed.

He had just managed to calm himself down when his bedroom door cracked open without a knock. Eyebrows knit together anxiously, he looked up to meet his mother's gaze, and she let herself in and closed the door behind her. "I'm sorry." He apologized in a rush, he wasn't even sure what he was apologizing for, and she shook her head, took a seat beside him.

“It’s okay, Bren, they told me you didn’t do anything.” She pat his thigh, not saying something though he knew what it was, anyway.

“I should have told you they were planning it. I told them not to, but they didn’t listen, so I invited Dallon over and we sat at the bottom of the stairs and wouldn’t let anyone up until we got too tired and went to bed. I didn’t wanna be a part of it. I wanted to stop it. Nothing happened, either, though, I promise. Dallon just helped clean up. He slept in my bed but he always does and I don't think that that's that bad. We were tired and it was really cold and there, like, wasn't anybody left. We didn't drink, or— or eat anything, just a frozen pizza from the freezer, but-”

“Honey. You're doing it again." She slid a hand up his arm, and he took the hint, sucking in a deep breath. He didn't always catch that, when he talked so much he couldn't breathe. He knew his therapist used to tell him to watch that. "Stop. I'm not angry with you. I'm glad you had somebody with you to make you feel safe. I know social situations are scary for you. Are you okay?" Shakily, he nodded. She never meant to baby him, it was just that in the past year he'd come so far and she was trying to make sure that he didn't relapse. "Listen, Brendon. I understand that none of this is your fault. But next time, please, just tell me. If anyone finds out there was underage drinking or any illegal drug use going on around here, they could shut the diner down and we’d all be in a lot of trouble.”

He blinked back tears again, looking at his lap and avoiding her obvious gaze. “I know. I'm really sorry.”

“I know, keiki. And they’re all definitely grounded, but listen. Next time something like this even comes close to happening, I want you to come to me, okay? I’m your mother, you need to be able to trust me. Even if it means having your brothers and sisters be a little mad at you for a day or two.” She reached out to pinch his chin, and he'd always fallen under that trap.

“I will, mama.” He promised.

"Okay. I love you. I'm gonna go talk to your father about this." She ruffled his hair again and stood up, leaving him to sit alone in his quiet room. Completely alone, just as he always ended up. Hands still trembling slightly, he bent down to pick his phone up off the floor.

Brendon: on a scale from one to ten how much do u think my siblings are gonna hate me because they're in trouble and I'm not

Dallon: are you okay?

Brendon: yes and no

Brendon: my parents yelled and I'm not good with yelling and I know my siblings and they're gonna be mad and I'm having a bad weekend and I cried and I hate crying

Dallon: let yourself cry you deserve it!

Dallon: you killed it Urie you should be proud of yourself

Dallon: and if they're mad then it'll blow over. I've got your back

Brendon: thank u I hope you're right

He locked his phone, wiping at his cheeks again as he slipped it in between his thighs. He knew it wasn't his fault. He knew, and his mom told him it wasn't, and even his siblings admitted he had nothing to do with it, but he couldn't shake it away. That feeling of anxiety pulsating in his veins, the stupid mess of tears building up in his throat, the feeling of doing something wrong. He just... couldn't help but feel like he had done something wrong.

He set his phone aside and tucked himself back into bed, anyway.

* * *

Brendon’s mother was pissed for the next few days. His dad was a little more understanding, he always had been, but Brendon’s mom was snappier, more demanding. The only one she wasn’t completely livid with was Brendon, though at some point he had realized that maybe being the suck up wasn't the position he wanted to take. Not when everyone was angry with him for being a rat. Needless to say, sick of playing the antagonist, he avoided all contact with his family for a few days.

"They're completely ignoring me. Like, not a word. I asked Kyla for the orange juice this morning and she literally pretended she couldn't hear me. I don't even know what I did!" Brendon ranted as he filled two glasses up with orange soda and placed them down on the tray on the counter, resorting to venting at work because he had spent the night crying about it and that did nothing, too. Dallon twisted in his seat, examining the tiny boy slipping past the counter, and rested his elbows behind him.

"They're just mad, Bren. They're placing the blame because they don't want to take it." He shrugged like it was common sense, and Brendon shot him a look of disdain before he placed the glasses down on table five, putting a grin on for the customers; service with a smile.

Turning back to Dallon, he added, "I know, but it pisses me off. I don't want to be ostracized by my own family." He moved past Dallon to get behind the counter again, patting his thigh as he went, and Dallon turned to face him again with a sympathetic smile. "I swear, right now you're the only one that doesn't hate me for something or another."

"Please, you've got your friends and Kara. She's not mad at you, right?"

Brendon shook his head just as his father rang the bell. "No, but that's different. She's too mature to hate me for something I didn't do. They're just petty." He picked up the tray and rolled his eyes at Kyla when he passed her filling glasses and snarling at him indignantly. Dallon twisted once more to watch Brendon move to table six, where a group of boys from school sat. Great, fantastic. His favorite people to serve.

"Hey, diner boy." One greeted maliciously as Brendon placed their plates down in front of them. They barely let him finish, grabbing at their food before he could set them down in their places, and Brendon tried to keep on his fake smile until he could turn around and frown again. Smiling took up way too much energy, he swore.

"Love the dress." Another sneered, reaching out to ruffle the apron tied around Brendon's waist. He took a step to the side, clenching his jaw, and behind him Dallon sat up straight and glared defensively.

"Refill this, would you?" The boy on the outside of the booth requested, pushing his glass of soda toward Brendon. The glass fell over and soaked his apron, making him step back in surprise, mouth falling open in disbelief. There was a line, a him ignoring them and them making jokes every once in a while at school when they saw him line, but they crossed it. This was his place of employment.

People started to stare, and Brendon didn't say a word, just stared down at the puddle of soda and half-melted ice on the floor, on his shoes, on his apron and the calves of his jeans. Of all days, it had to be today. His mother poked her head out from behind the kitchen entrance, and as Brendon's eyes began to fill with tears, Dallon's voice said from behind him, "Leave him alone."

The boys looked taken aback to hear the quiet Weekes kid say anything, he was famous for his silence, and Brendon turned around to look at his mom, over a livid Dallon's shoulder. "Can I take my break?" He asked defiantly, and she nodded minutely. So he tore off his apron and balled it up to throw behind the counter before he took wide, long steps toward the bathroom and slipped behind the door, on the verge of tears.

He was just banging his head against the wall when the door opened behind him. He turned to see Dallon standing there, eyebrows furrowing in concern as the door fell shut behind him. "What are you doing?"

"Banging my head against the wall. Maybe if I do it enough times, I'll die." Brendon deadpanned, but his head was spinning. This was too much, and-

He hadn't realized that a few tears had slid down his cheeks until something softened in Dallon's eyes, and he reached out to tug at Brendon's shoulder. "Bren, hey. C'mere." He pulled him into a hug, and Brendon ducked his head against his chest when Dallon rubbed his upper back. Quietly, he asked, "Do they do this a lot?"

He was humiliated. "Not that often anymore, but... yeah, sometimes."

Dallon was quiet for a second as he held Brendon against his chest, looking over his head at the wall unseeingly. "I never noticed."

Nobody ever did. "You didn't have to."

"No, I know, but... no. Normally I would've..." He paused, rubbing Brendon's back pensively, like he was looking back to try and dig through all his memories of Brendon and the boys that poked fun. Brendon shuddered, he really thought that the new year would be better, and Dallon shushed him with a gentle hand on the back of his head. "Hey, I'm sorry. People shouldn't be so mean. They don't know you."

Brendon shook his head. "I'm so sick of everybody being against me."

"No, hey. I'm not." Dallon reached out to capture Brendon's chin in his hand, tilting it up to force Brendon to meet his eyes. "I'm not. And you can't let people like that bother you. Or your family. It's just passing. They're just mad. And as for those guys, they're gonna end up living in their parents' basements, so who cares what they say?"

Brendon sniffled, his lips turning up into a tiny smile. "They probably get into fights with people online over call of duty and draw their own porn to jerk off to."

Dallon laughed. "Yeah, there you go!" He smiled brightly at Brendon, encouragingly, and enveloped him in a hug once more. Brendon settled against him, warm and comforting, and Dallon said in a voice just above a whisper, "What people say behind your back doesn't define you. You're the only one who gets to choose who you want to be. Okay?"

Brendon nodded, buried his face in the crook of Dallon's shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut, held onto him tighter than he should have. Slowly he could feel the anxiety escape his lungs ephemerally while Dallon neglected letting go. And as he focused on breathing and nothing else, he tried to remind himself that it would be temporary. The world couldn't be mad at him forever. He just had to wait it out.

* * *

Brendon: heard a rumor we fucked in the bathroom of the diner today

Dallon: we did?!?! and I didn't know?! unfair. all risk and no reward

Brendon: apparently us gays can't be seen together without everyone thinking you're doing me

Brendon: or maybe u shouldn't be following me to the bathroom anymore?

Dallon: please I'm gonna follow you to the bathroom all I want there's nothing gay about that >:( seriously Urie don't stress about rumors we both know they're not true. and besides fucking in the bathroom?? are they serious??? that's way too unclassy

Brendon: yeah I know but it still bothers me cause people assume me being gay means I'm a slut and I'm not and it's not fair

Dallon: I know and I know you're not and it sucks but there's nothing you can do about dumb rumors and the idiots who spread them. just be flattered they're wasting their precious time talking about you! and they think I'm worthy of you! always look on the bright side

Brendon: pls you're worthy of the sun dallon weekes

Dallon: and you're worthy of the truth so don't let lies bother you. they'll get bored and stop

Brendon: fingers crossed

It was bad enough that there were rumors. It was bad enough that as they were sitting down at their table at lunch, some guy asked Brendon if he was pregnant with Dallon's baby yet. It was bad enough that Brendon was annoyed because in retrospect, Tyler saying "what a beautiful baby that would be, though" probably wasn't the right response. It was bad enough that when he and Dallon were walking together to Brendon's physics class, somebody shoved him so close to Dallon that he turned red and apologized a thousand times even though it wasn't his fault, that he couldn't hide that the rumors were getting to him, that it was just the icing on top of the cake. It was bad enough that his siblings were pissed at him, and his parents weren't happy either.

It was bad enough without his mother taking off his fucking door.

"Where the hell is my door?" Brendon stopped short when he reached out to pull his door shut behind him and Dallon only to realize that it wasn't there.

"What?" Dallon turned, dropping his backpack on Brendon's bed, and Brendon gestured to the empty doorway. He looked around for a second, confused, before he resorted to a blatant shrug and took a seat on the edge of Brendon's bed.

Brendon tossed his bag aimlessly toward him, letting out an angry huff. One goddamn thing after another. "Goddamnit, I'll be right back."

"Okay." Dallon watched as Brendon stomped out of his bedroom to look for his parents for an explanation. The Urie household was out of fucking control.

"What's happening?" Brendon demanded when he caught sight of his mother in the hallway, his siblings gathering around her like an angry rain cloud. None of them had doors, he realized, all that was left were his parents' bedroom door and the bathroom. What kind of Big Brother bullshit was this?

"Listen. I'm not pleased with the lack of rule following in this house recently, especially in light of the party you all thought I wouldn't find out about. So you've all lost the basic privilege to live with a door on your room until further notice." She announced dictatorially, clapping her hands together with finality. They'd been punished before, had to work overtime and clean the diner or the house top to bottom, had to drive each other around or babysit each other, but they'd never lost their basic privacy. She'd never taken it this far.

"Mom," Matt whined.

"That's so unfair," Kara added, clearly livid.

Their mother shrugged like she didn't care, and then again she didn't. That wasn't news. "I'm sorry you feel that way." She said, very obviously not sorry. "But until my children are truthful with me and keep doors open when doors open are due, your doors remain off. I'm sick of secrets. Now all of you, get out of my hair."

Everybody huffed and groaned and whined, disappearing without a fight though Brendon remained dumbfounded in the hallway. None of it was his fault. She told him so. She said it was okay. So why was she punishing him too? He fought back angry tears, he wanted his fucking privacy, he didn't want this change. Where the hell had she even put them?!

He followed his mother toward her room and pushed the door almost all the way shut so that Dallon wouldn't overhear in the next room over. In a hushed voice, he pleaded, "Mama, this is so stupid. I'm not breaking any rules. Why am I being punished?"

"Hey, you've been leaving your door closed too." She retorted, pulling the laundry basket close and retracting a fuzzy pink sweater that belonged to Brendon. He didn't do anything wrong. He didn't break any rules.

"With Tyler and Dallon!" He tried to reason.

She lowered her voice, aware of his friend just a wall away. "Brendon. I know that you have feelings for him, you're a teenage boy with teenage boy hormones and impulses and God knows what you're doing behind closed doors. I understand that there's nothing currently going on, if what you say is true, but the punishment still stands; your door will remain open when he is here."

"But we're not dating!" He tried to defend himself, she had to know he was telling the truth, he wasn't that good of a liar, but he'd inherited his stubbornness from her. Sometimes he wished he hadn't.

"Brendon, just because you're in a different situation doesn't mean I'm going to give you special treatment." She sighed, and something in his stomach twisted. Different situation his ass. They both knew what this was about.

"Being gay isn't a different situation, mother, and I think we're a few years past you calling it that! I'm still a person with feelings, and so is Dallon! Just because I like someone doesn't mean he automatically likes me back, contrary to popular belief that isn't how homosexuality works. And just because I like boys doesn't mean I'm some walking stereotype that wants to bone everything that moves. I know that's what people say but it isn't true! I'm not trying to sleep with Dallon or Tyler or anybody, for that matter, I literally just want to do my goddamn math homework with my friend so I don't fail out of that stupid class, and I can't do that with six people in the same hallway as me with no doors. Stop assuming I'm some sex obsessed gay freak because I'm not. I try way too hard to make sure that I'm not forced into a stereotypical box, don't put me in one."

He was left with tears in his eyes, breathing sporadic. Everybody always assumed that gay boys were obsessed with sex, that it was all just a game, but Brendon couldn't be viewed that way. He wouldn't let himself. He didn't want his own mother to retreat back to the notion that she'd held long before she was educated, either. She'd made mistakes before, but that was then and this was now. He was way too far past letting that slip by.

She put her head in her hands and sighed. "Brendon, you know that isn't what's going on."

"So stop calling it a different situation. It's not a different situation. It's like any other situation except replace girls with boys." He stomped his foot petulantly, and she looked up at him in exhaustion. She didn't mean to belittle him, she never did, it was just that sometimes she didn't get it. She couldn't. He'd learned that years ago, but it didn't mean he'd ever stop trying to get her to see eye to eye with him. On this, if only she could see him on this.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, my boy, I get it. I'm proud of you and I love you but no matter who you like or don't like, you were a part of it. You didn't tell me about the party when you should have, it may not be as bad as throwing the party but it still wasn't truthful. I need you to know that I don't tolerate lying, I need to be able to trust you."

"You can trust me! I was trying to put a stop to the party!"

"Brendon, it's done." She shushed him, gesturing for him to stop, and, well. He didn't know what else to say. He rolled his eyes, didn't care that she saw, and he turned to leave, went to his room. He reached out to slam his door before he realized.

Dallon was sitting on his bed with a sheet of math homework in front of him when Brendon entered the room again. "My door is currently nonexistent." He huffed, and when Dallon raised an eyebrow, Brendon threw his hands up in exasperation. "Apparently nobody is following the doors open when somebody who's more than a friend is over rule. And she's angry about the party, so I'm sure that's just fueling the fire. The only problem is, my mom never knows who can qualify as more than a friend, so she chose to label everyone as more than a friend. So I don't have a door, and we should probably study at your house."

"It's fine, Urie. We're already here." Dallon extended a hand out to him, luring him toward the bed. Brendon appreciated him, how he didn't mind how hectic things were sometimes, how he didn't excuse himself right away and make up an excuse not to come back. He always said he wondered what it was like to be in a big family, but sometimes he didn't have to wonder anymore. "C'mon. We'll go to my place tomorrow. My mom won't even be home, so we don't have to deal with any interruptions at all."

No interruptions sounded so nice. Brendon could get used to that. "Yes, please."

Dallon smiled affably, and Brendon laid beside him on the bed. Suddenly he didn't seem to care so much about their math homework. "You can sleep over too, if you want." He added, as he must have caught the exhaustion lingering in Brendon's eyes. He didn't sleep so well when everything wasn't copacetic. "Get out of the house for a little while. It seems kind of tense around here. I promise I'll have doors and no one to get mad at you."

Brendon leaned his head on Dallon's shoulder, whimpering with exhaustion as music flooded the hall from someone's open room. "You're a good friend."

Dallon hummed playfully, playing with the pencil in between his fingers. "According to your mom, I'm more than a friend."

Brendon threw his hands out in defeat. "And so is Tyler! So I'm cheating on both of my boyfriends and I don't even have a fucking door!"

Dallon laughed and smacked the side of his arm. "Alright, my infidel, let's do our homework or I'm telling your other boyfriend that you're cheating on him."

Brendon scoffed and gave Dallon a look that received a smile in response. "Wow. I take it back, you're not a good friend."

"That's a lie and you know it." Dallon tapped the binder in front of him with his pencil insistently, and it seemed so trivial now. Like in the grand scheme of things, homework was so low on his list of worries. "Now come on, we have a lot to do."

Brendon pouted and dropped his chin to rest on his arms in front of him. After all the drama he'd been enduring all week, homework and school just sounded so unappealing. Only half joking, Brendon asked, "Can't you just do all the work, and I'll copy you?"

"No, Brendon." Dallon offered a look of disdain. "First you cheat on me, now you want to cheat off of me?"

Brendon let out a laugh, leaning over to grab his backpack. Dallon was right, maybe he should at least get something started before Dallon had to go. "That was clever."

Dallon pretended to bow from his position laying on his stomach. "Thank you, thank you."

Brendon took Dallon up on his offer. He stood in the center of Dallon's room the next day and smiled to himself, immersed in the sound of silence. It had never been so welcoming. Dallon laughed at him, called him a dork though he understood where he was coming from. Uries didn't get a lot of silence. He crawled into Dallon's bed, seemingly so much more comfortable when he hadn't slept in days, and Dallon just watched him, smiled, left him to rest.

Dallon sat on the floor with his back to the bed, sketching something out on the pad of paper on the easel on the ground. Brendon was tangled up in his blankets, watching with fascination as he drew sharply over messy lines, turning mayhem into a masterpiece. They didn't talk, Brendon was too tired and Dallon seemed to be focused on what he was doing, but they didn't need words so much anymore, anyway.

Brendon examined the way Dallon's wrist flicked to sketch out a few lines, layered over each other intricately. Brendon didn't understand sometimes, he thought as he daydreamed. They were lines. They were lines drawn with a mechanical pencil on some paper but they just made sense. He curled up further under the blankets, pleasantly warm, milky tired but happy. "Hey, Dal?"

Dallon didn't bother to look up from his sketch. "What's up?"

"Why do you like art so much?" Brendon asked, and Dallon twisted in place, knees to his chest and his arms bent behind him. He thought about it for a second, could think about it forever. He could talk about the creative process, how the most beautiful thing was perspective, how gratifying it was to create. But he thought carefully, watching Brendon chew his lip, somebody eloquent with their words and somebody not so much.

"I think I fell in love with the idea that everybody has the ability to create. Not even just with art, you know, but with music, or writing, or your thoughts, it's all authentic. They're all yours. I think that in this world there are a lot of things that don't belong to us, but our creativity is the one thing we have all to ourselves. You think of an idea and it becomes a concept, whether it's abstract or straightforward, whatever it is, I don't know. You develop your own distinctive art style like a signature. And then you take this idea from these intramural thoughts and you use creative energy to fuel yourself into using it as an outlet."

Brendon squinted at him, vision blurry, and smiled. "So you use it as some sort of catharsis?"

Dallon nodded, in so many words. "When I needed to get all of my negative energy out, when I was having a series of consecutive bad days, I used art to take it out on. I don't know why it's so cathartic, and maybe that's just me, but painting or drawing or crafting just gets me out of my mind. It calms me down, even when I'm at my worst, and so I like to go back to that every time I really need it. And some people use music or writing or something else, but I use art. I think visual aspects are important, especially when I'm trying to get out my feelings. It's not good to keep things bottled up, it's so much better to let it out in a non-destructive way. For me, that's art."

Brendon half smiled to himself, tugging the blanket up to his chin. "Good to know."

Dallon nodded in understanding. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. I was just wondering. You're so devoted to it and I don't care about anything that much, you know? I admire your dedication. And I like watching. It calms me down, I think."

Dallon smiled warmly at him and pushed his easel aside, dropping the pencil from his extremities without another word. He pushed himself up to stand, tugging his sweatpants up where they had fallen down on his hips, and gently tapped Brendon on the side. "Move over." He instructed, so Brendon scooted over just enough to make room on the bed for him.

"What are you doing?" Brendon asked quietly when Dallon crawled under the covers, a little too close though neither of them said it. He didn't know what to say anymore. He was running out of original thoughts and maybe it was best to keep quiet.

"You can barely keep your eyes open. Neither can I." Dallon let his eyes slip shut as if on cue, but Brendon watched the way his lashes kissed his cheeks when crystal blue irises disappeared. Inches away, breath warm, and if Dallon could sense him watching, he didn't say it. "I wanna nap."

Brendon found himself holding his breath. "Look." He exhaled, watching his every movement. "I don't have many friends so I'm not exactly sure, but is this what normal friends do?"

Shifting under the covers, radiating body heat and dangerously close, Dallon shrugged one shoulder half-heartedly and Brendon didn't understand. He wasn't sure he had ever understood. For months they'd been so back and forth and he was sick of wondering, he was sick of a lot of things. Trying to make sense of this, trying to fit it into a box, trying to fit Dallon into one, too. None of it made sense.

Quietly, in a voice that was sweeter than honey but just as precious, Dallon said, "We're not normal friends."

Brendon laid awake for a while before he gave up on trying to figure out what it meant.

* * *

There was sleep in his eyes and a feeling of exhaustion lingering in his bones when he woke up next to Dallon. Some trail of light was streaming into the room through the half-closed blinds, but it seemed to fade with the evening, layering pinks over golds and tinting Dallon's room in a dusty haze. Brendon wasn't sure of the time, but he knew a couple of hours had passed. They had to have. He still felt like he was dreaming, almost.

Little huffs of warmth met his lips every time Dallon breathed out silently through barely parted lips, eyelashes brushing his cheeks while Brendon watched, amazed. He didn't understand so much, not anymore, because everything felt so up in the air. But that didn't matter. Sometimes he wanted to know, but then again days like this made him wonder if there was something to ruin.

He reached over to brush Dallon's cheek with his index finger knuckle, didn't bother pulling away when Dallon stirred. "Hi."

Dallon's eyes fluttered open, and a tiny smile reached his lips when he met Brendon's sleepy gaze, not seeming to mind his waking him up. "Hey, you. D'you know what time it is?"

"Not a clue."

Dallon turned onto his back and stretched out his arms so he wouldn't accidentally punch Brendon in the face. Brendon giggled anyway, but Dallon grunted and squeezed his eyes shut, smiling too because he seemed so uncoordinated and graceless sometimes. Brendon curled up under the covers, watching Dallon's face when he knew he couldn't see him, smiling to himself because he couldn't help it.

With an exasperated sigh, Dallon reached over to grab his phone from the side table to check the time. "Six twenty-one."

"Hm." Brendon arched his back underneath the covers to stretch. "Can you hand me my glasses?"

"Yeah." Dallon grabbed his glasses from the side table and handed them to Brendon, who slipped them on his face and wiped his eyes groggily underneath them. "Are you still sleeping over?"

Brendon quirked an eyebrow. "Sleep is a relative term." When Dallon smiled back pleasantly, he added, "But yeah."

"Good." Dallon squirmed against the mattress and tugged his pillow underneath his head. "So, I had this dream where I was like, at school in the main hallway, and my seventh grade science teacher— who was really, really weird— was there, and he was trying to explain to me something that I'm learning right now in physics. But he was a really bad teacher and I didn't understand."

Brendon let out a laugh and tugged the blanket up higher, brushing it against his chin. "D'you think it means something?"

"Uh-huh. I think all dreams have some sort of meaning. Whether you have it because of something that happened or was mentioned that day, or like, because of something you recently heard or saw or if it has some deeper, metaphorical meaning. That's called the latent content. I like thinking about that stuff." Dallon copied his motion of tugging the blanket up higher, for the air in his room was cold. "What d'you think it meant? Psychoanalyze me."

Brendon bit his lip pensively. "Um, it's probably that you're worried about not knowing something in school. Science in particular. Maybe you're about to fail a big test or something." He wiggled his eyebrows as if he were some orphic able to see into the future, and Dallon gave him a look of amusement, fascinated with the prediction.

"Well, we have no tests coming up and I'm not the worst at science so I don't think it's that. Could be." He shrugged, and the look in his eyes settled into something warmer. Something seeded in sincerity.

Getting ready the next morning felt... right. Brushing their teeth side by side and exchanging smiles in the mirror while they brushed their hair and laughed about how messy it had gotten during the night. Dallon complained about how he always had knots in his hair, and Brendon helped him brush it out, laughed when Dallon complained that he was pulling. But it still felt right, watching himself get ready beside Dallon like they'd done it a thousand times. It felt comfortable.

Brendon couldn't stop smiling on the way to school. Maybe it was the music, he was really growing to love Sparks, or maybe it was all the sleep he'd gotten, maybe it was the way Dallon told him he loved his smile through a mouthful of toothpaste when they were brushing their teeth that morning. Maybe it was the fact that he was wearing Dallon's sweater because he had forgotten to pack one of his own, or the fact that the world being against him didn't feel so bad when he knew that Dallon wasn't. Brendon didn't know why, but he really just couldn't stop smiling.

They climbed out of Dallon’s car simultaneously, talking about nothing important while they headed toward Josh's car. Tyler was sitting by the front door as always, on his phone but waiting, so Brendon tapped Dallon's arm to get his attention. "I'm gonna go talk to Tyler."

"Okay. I'll see you in history." Dallon meant to tap his arm back but his hand lingered for a second too long on Brendon's arm before he pulled it away, still smiling brightly.

"Yeah." Brendon grinned back and waved hello to Josh and Ryan before he turned and darted toward the door.

When he reached Tyler, already breathless, he reached out to put his entire hand on his face. He jumped at the sudden interruption and Brendon giggled, in too good of a mood to care. A little disgruntled, he asked, "What the fuck do you want?"

"Wanna talk?"

Tyler hopped up and pocketed his phone. "Yeah." He followed Brendon up the front steps of the building and into the school, linking their arms together habitually. "How was your night? Are things with your family any better? Wait. I saw you come in with Dallon. He's bringing you to school now?"

Brendon smiled at his enthusiasm. "Um, my night was good, I'm not gonna ask about yours because of your nightly reiterations that you seem to text me every single time I'm just on the verge of falling asleep-" Tyler laughed, because Brendon was right. "I don't know, not really, they're still pissed, my mom hasn't given our doors back. And no. Well, kind of. I guess. I actually slept over his house last night."

Tyler gave him a look of disbelief, practically stopping in his tracks. And Brendon couldn't really believe it either, he thought with a laugh. He'd wanted to say something all night but he didn't know what exactly to send in a text. "On a Thursday night."

"On a Thursday night," Brendon confirmed.

"And you didn't tell me? You're a shitty best friend." Tyler smacked his arm beratingly. "How was it? Why'd you sleep over on a weekday? How did you convince your mom?"

"It was good. I’m wearing his sweater right now. I forgot my own clothes at home.” He tugged at the sweater, and Tyler's eyes lit up. “And I told her that we had a lot of studying to do." When Tyler opened his mouth to say something, Brendon shut him right up. "And studying was all that happened. Seriously. I did homework, he did art, and that was all. Except..."

"Except?" He urged.

"We slept together." He said, smiling softly at the thought of it. The warmth of Dallon's bed, the way he smiled when he made himself comfortable, how safe Brendon felt in that moment. Like no one else existed. Like no one else mattered.

Tyler's giant eyes met his own. "You had sex?!"

He realized then that the way he'd worded the statement was unfortunately misleading. "No! God, no, Tyler. Fuck. We, like, slept in the same bed. And it's not like we don't do that every time we have sleepovers, because we do, but... this was different, you know? We... we napped together. It was so... nice." He wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly warm and smiling.

Tyler's look of disbelief returned. "You napped together?" Brendon nodded again; he didn't know why he had to repeat everything he said. "Dude. That's so cute. Your thing with Dallon is so cute."

Brendon furrowed his eyebrows and turned to look at him. Thing? What was that supposed to mean? "What thing?"

"You know, the thing where two people have evident chemistry and they're obviously into each other but they're not dating yet. You guys have a thing. Everybody knows it." Tyler was too omniscient for his own good. Brendon quirked a brow skeptically. "Oh, come on, B. You have to know what you're doing. You're playing gay chicken."

"What is that?"

Tyler rolled his eyes like Brendon was completely clueless, because he was. "You like each other and you both know it. You're flirting and trying to make the other cave first."

Brendon bristled away, shaking his head. "That's not my intention."

"Maybe not, but that's what it is."

"I don't... I don't know. I don't think that's what this is. I think it's just me and Dallon, you know, we have a weird friendship. It's not chicken, or whatever, and it's not a thing."

"Yes it is, B." Tyler insisted. "It's also a thing that the people in the thing don't know they're in a thing." He gestured with his hands like what he was explaining was the most obvious thing in the world, but he was wrong. He had to be wrong.

"You just said the word 'thing' way too many times. And I'm done talking about it. We don't have a thing, we're just friends." He was drawing the line, but a little part of him couldn't help but think about what Dallon had said to him before he'd fallen asleep. We're not normal friends. Maybe they did have a thing. And maybe Dallon was aware of it.


	10. Chapter 9: Like a Ghost Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh the suspense (I love when Brendon is dramatic as f)

February had always been one of Brendon's least favorite months, between the cold and Valentine's day being the only thing that anybody could talk about. Vacation approached again and things calmed down, Brendon's siblings having apologized as their mother made them, and as he kept his head down there weren't as many incidents at school. It was getting exhausting fighting with everybody all the time. Or everybody fighting with him, because he always seemed to be on the receiving end of it all.

"I'm just glad we have a whole week off. I feel like Christmas break was a century ago." Brendon followed Dallon down the hallway, the elevator door sliding shut behind them as he left a bad day at school with it.

"Then again, it's barely a break. We still have a ton of homework."

"Yeah, but I don't have to wake up at six thirty and walk to school half asleep every day. For a week. It's actual heaven. I think I almost got hit by a bus the other day. Seriously. I couldn't keep my eyes open."

"I'm glad you didn't." They exchanged smiles when Brendon looked up at him. "But yeah. I'm just gonna try to get all my homework done in the next couple of days so I won't have to worry about it."

"Smart. I'll save it for next Sunday night." Brendon laughed and Dallon smiled again, sticking the key in the lock.

"Well, I say I'm gonna do it soon, but it's more like, the morning that it's due." He let Brendon in first and closed the door behind them, making him turn to look at him with another fond laugh as he toed off his shoes. "My mom won't be home until, like, six, but you can stay for dinner and sleep over if you want. She won't mind."

Brendon slid his jacket off and hung it up beside Dallon's. "Sure, maybe. I'll text my mom later and ask if she needs me home."

"Cool." Dallon bumped their shoulders together, and they made their way down the hall.

Brendon placed his bag down on the floor in front of Dallon's bedroom door when he let himself into the room he'd grown to know well, greeted by the natural light from one long window and the welcoming, sudden warmth from the heater. Dallon followed Brendon into the room, pushing the door so it was left ajar, and a distracted Brendon crossed the room when his eyes caught a few new colors on the wall.

"You added new photos." Brendon's eyes observed his favorite part of the room, where a few photos of himself had made it like he'd wanted them to months ago. A polaroid of him smiling stupidly and a printed photo of he and Dallon that they'd taken at some store downtown, wearing too big sunglasses and making faces at the camera. Memories, ingrained in Brendon's mind, stuck on Dallon's wall because Brendon didn't know but Dallon liked to reminisce.

Dallon nodded and set down his own backpack beside Brendon's, hands on his hips. "Needed a change." He told him simply, and it was more than Brendon could ever say. It felt like Dallon's room was a metaphor, almost, messy sometimes, always changing, but easy to clean up. Like it was that simple. Like he was trying to make it that simple. Maybe he was. Maybe that was what Brendon had been trying to do all along, too.

"They're awesome." Brendon thumbed one, a row of empty seats on the train, vacant both in its genesis and the manifest. Hauntingly beautiful. Sometimes he wondered how Dallon had an eye for things that nobody else did, if he were looking through some kaleidoscope that made the world prettier, somehow. "You took this?"

"Yeah. I started a new series." He pointed to a photo of the Vegas sign, and Brendon followed his finger with wide eyes. "I grew up here, minutes away from one of the liveliest cities in the world, but I never really paid attention to anything until my dad died. You know, after that, nothing ever felt the same, it felt like a ghost town. I wanted to rediscover Vegas. There are a lot of hidden treasures. I wanted to capture that."

"I love it, Dal." Brendon told him, not catching the smile Dallon gave to his back. "God, I wish I had your talent."

"I just clicked a button." Dallon's smile reached blue eyes when he took a seat on the corner of his mattress, watching Brendon's eyes shift from one picture to another, beaming in appreciation as he examined his soul, hung on the walls for display.

"No, but all your art is amazing. You're so creative. I'd never be able to capture so much... feeling. It's like the second you walk into a room everything bares its soul for you. It's incredible." Brendon averted his gaze to a new photo and pointed to it curiously. "What's this?"

"Oh. The other day I was testing some stuff out and I painted Josh's back. That's... y'know, that's the outcome."

"That's a thing?" Brendon turned around with a laugh and folded his arms over his chest. "That sounds... messy. And ridiculous. Doesn't the paint get everywhere? Doesn't it stain your clothes?"

"Yes, it's a thing, and yes, it's messy." He got up and went to stand beside him, making Brendon almost tense up though he didn't know why. "The paint gets everywhere regardless. You know, if you're as messy as I am. And if you wait for the paint to dry then it won't stain, but even then, I think it comes out of clothes with a few washes. Besides, there's nothing better than a human canvas." Dallon gestured toward the photo and Brendon turned again, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. Layered acrylics in archaic strokes, forming something indescribable that Brendon had never seen anything like. Like... Dallon, manifesting himself in his art.

"I like it a lot."

"Want me to paint on you?" Dallon asked suddenly as if the idea had just come to him. Brendon turned to look at him, half smiling like the idea was ill-advised because he knew it would be. But Dallon grinned and reached out to grab his arm, had no idea what Brendon was thinking, and Brendon wasn't even really sure he knew what he was thinking either. "Come on! Come on, Urie, it'll be fun."

"What's the point?" Brendon leaned against the wall and watched, amused, as Dallon crossed the room and knelt down in front of his wooden box of acrylics to flip the little gold latch. Brendon didn't get the hype but Dallon was smiling wider than he should be, always excited to make art, and it was stupid but Brendon wanted to do anything to keep him smiling.

"You get to be art." He said wistfully, playfully, and Brendon snorted while Dallon pulled open the box to reveal the tubes of acrylic paint in a scattered array of colors. "Seriously, it looks cool. And I need practice. Please? I'll be your best friend." He pleaded.

"You already are my best friend." Brendon retorted, hands on his hips, and watched Dallon pull paints out of their respective places despite Brendon's reluctance. He squirted a few different colors onto the wooden box, already covered in half-chipped dried paint, and Brendon shifted his weight nervously. Was he really going to do this? Let himself be half naked in front of Dallon? It seemed too... risky.

"I'm telling Tyler." He teased, grinning playfully, but Brendon shied away and scratched awkwardly at his arm. "Come on. It'll be fun. You'll like it, Bren, I promise. I pinky swear."

"Alright, alright, but if it doesn't come off, I'm filing a complaint." Brendon gave up and walked closer to him, still shy, but tempted by the way Dallon's eyes lit up. Without a word he reached up to tug at the hem of Brendon's shirt, and Brendon startled.

"Take it off," Dallon instructed.

He took another step back in defense. "What?"

"I need to paint on you, Bren, I can't do that if you're wearing a shirt." He was half smiling, maybe a little teasing, and Brendon dropped his hands to his side, defeated.

"Oh. Right." Brendon frowned and reached down to touch the hem of his shirt, self-conscious. He never undressed in front of anybody. He didn't even like to change in front of his family. He stalled for a second, considering, and finally pulled it off before he could second guess it. It was only Dallon, after all. He could talk to him about anything, and if he could be emotionally naked in front of him, he didn't see why he couldn't do this too.

Dallon nodded, his hands moving swiftly to retrieve his supplies. "Thanks."

"Um. What am I supposed to do?" He asked awkwardly as he tossed his shirt toward his bag, folding his arms over his bare chest to cover himself in embarrassment. Half-heartedly Dallon pushed the shirt closer to Brendon's backpack so it wouldn't get stained, didn't even give Brendon's body a once-over. Brendon didn't know whether to be grateful or offended.

"Nothing. Just lay on your stomach." Dallon gestured for him to lay on the floor so Brendon did, awkwardly getting down on his knees and lowering himself with ease, the floor cold underneath him. He wished he had a blanket or something, or had just said no, or had enough guts to tell Dallon that he liked him months ago so things would never have gone so far. "Any requests?"

He rested his chin on his crossed wrists and furrowed his eyebrows down at the floor. "For..."

"Like, any paintings you want me to do? Or should I just do whatever?" Dallon specified. Brendon could hear the rattling of paintbrushes in their respective jar, and he tilted his head against his arms.

"You can choose." He permitted softly.

"Alright. It'll be a little while, just relax." Dallon told him calmly, resting a hand on his shoulder. Brendon nodded and let his eyes slip shut, and all of a sudden he felt a leg shift over his body to straddle his back, pressing him down against the floor. He squirmed around for a second, and Brendon's eyes flickered open again.

He resisted the urge to shift his body back against Dallon's, where he'd so cozily nestled himself to make himself comfortable. He swallowed, picked at the skin around his nails anxiously. "Um, what are you... what are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, I have to sit a certain way to be able to paint right side up. Am I too heavy?" Dallon asked, innocently oblivious, and Brendon shook his head, conflicted. He couldn't tell him to stop now. That was way too obvious. That would be fatal.

"No, you're fine," Brendon mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut and ducking his forehead against his wrists. He let out a steady breath and tried to focus on the movement of the brush, cool against his skin, the sound of wood against a glass jar, the toxic smell of paint. The way Dallon's fingers touched pale skin, trying to disconnect Dallon from the body sitting on him. This was nothing. It meant nothing.

Dallon shifted to dip his paintbrush into the paint and Brendon stared intently at the floor, inches from his face. Dallon was his friend. His best friend. But their bodies fit perfectly, like a puzzle piece, like they were sculpted to be together. He wondered transiently if there was a God. If there was a reason things had happened this way.

He used to dream of things like this. Now it just felt so shockingly surreal.

He felt naked, laying on the floor of Dallon’s room with his body exposed. His soul, too. He never thought about how scary this would feel. Having such a visceral want for somebody that it was overwhelming. That it made it hard to breathe.

He remembered why he didn’t want to do this. Because Dallon was straddling him and he wasn’t his boyfriend and Brendon couldn’t stop wondering why he wasn’t. It just didn’t make any sense.

Dallon felt nothing. Brendon just had to learn to feel nothing too.

He gnawed on his bottom lip, and Dallon asked after a few minutes, “You okay?” Brendon only nodded, scared of what he’d say if he dared open his mouth. He heard the sound of the brush clink against the jar of water. “You’re almost done. This came out really well.” He touched Brendon’s side with his fingers and Brendon resisted the urge to jump. “You have the perfect body for this.”

Brendon’s eyes burned as he squeezed them shut. This had to be in his head. Everything was blurry, like it was in a dream. “Oh.” He managed, unsure of what else to really say. He didn’t know what he could even say to that.

“Just. Good skin. Nice complexion.” He added, seemingly observing. Brendon tilted his head to the side in response, but he bit his tongue so hard he could feel it burn in his mouth. Want to see more of me, he wanted to ask, but didn’t. His best friend. What was wrong with him?

Dallon painted silently and Brendon was antsy, aching to be touched. He buried his face in his arms instead, felt Dallon breathe out when he leaned down close, hair sticking up on the back of his neck. The minutes passed slowly, and Brendon picked aimlessly at the skin around his nails.

Dallon added a few pops of color to Brendon's skin, the finishing touches, before he sat back and grabbed his camera to snap a picture. He bracketed his legs around Brendon's body, held him snug underneath him, and Brendon swallowed again, hands almost shaking, as Dallon shifted to set the camera down and sat up on his knees. Brendon stretched his arms in front of him. It felt like he'd been laying there for years.

"Okay, you're all done." Dallon told him proudly with a pat to his side. "The best part of acrylics is that they dry quick on skin. Just stay there for a minute. I don’t want you to smudge it.”

“Sure.” Brendon pressed his nose against his arm.

Dallon leaned forward to grab the jar of water and set the brush in it, moving it so it wouldn’t spill. Blood rushed in Brendon’s ears and he squirmed, waiting for Dallon’s okay before he tried to sit up. He needed to get out of here, all of a sudden. He felt like he was going to scream. He just wanted to know what they were. If any of this was done with intention.

“Alright.” Dallon pat his side, and Brendon pushed himself up, hands shaking. They were just friends, it flashed in his mind like a warning sign. Just friends. He was starting to forget what that meant. “Be careful, but-“

He stopped short when Brendon sat up to kiss him. He was just so sick of wondering. He was so sick of the games of cat and mouse. He just wanted to know.

Dallon startled, eyes wide as he pulled away, and Brendon knew when he saw his face that he had made a mistake. Dallon moved back, staring at Brendon like he’d killed somebody. He realized it then: it was them who he killed. Or maybe himself.

Dallon was speechless, opening and closing his mouth and trying to find the words. “Brendon, I-“

“I'm so sorry." He scrambled to his feet and reached down to grab his shirt from the floor desperately. He fucked up. He was so dumb. He was an embarrassment; he was the human embodiment of humiliation. Fuck, they were just friends. They were just fucking friends.

"Brendon," Dallon began to get up frantically, but Brendon picked up his backpack and held his shirt to his chest. “Bren.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” He rushed down the hall and grabbed his shoes and jacket before he could even put them on.

The bus was pulling up when he reached the end of the street and he had to run to catch it. The doors folded open and the February air numbed his cheeks as tears froze on them, too hard now to wipe away. He slid into one of the empty seats and rested his forehead against the window.

A mother held a crying baby a few seats behind him. A little girl sat with her parents, telling them about the game she played at her friend’s house that day. A group of boys he was sure he could identify if he tried sat in the back row, teasing each other and making plans for the weekend. Tears slid down his cheeks, and the bus pulled into the street.

How did he fuck up so badly?

He played it in his mind over and over like a broken record. He pulled away. Brendon had kissed him, and Dallon had pulled away. He looked shocked. Scared. Like he never would have considered such a thing. Brendon Urie. He felt pathetic for even thinking that someone would be interested in him.

He didn’t even want to think about what he was going to say the next time he saw him.

He got off at the diner and hurried inside, wiping his cheeks so no one would ask. “Hey, Bren." Kyla greeted cheerfully as she filled a glass with orange soda behind the counter, an apron tied around her waist. That stupid fucking apron that Dallon had told him he looked cute in once, made him blush though he would never admit it. “Is everything okay?”

“No. I kissed him, Kyla.” He cried, and frantically she followed him to the back. Tears rolled down his blotchy red cheeks and he felt sick. “I’m so stupid. How could I have been so stupid?” He turned to look at her and her eyebrows were knit together in worry. “Fuck. That was so idiotic. Fuck. Fuck. What did I do?”

“Slow down. What happened? What did he say?”

“Nothing.” He snapped, but she didn’t take it personally, as he tended to overreact. It was just who Brendon was. “I kissed him and he pulled away and didn’t say anything. I’m gonna go— cry, and stuff. I don’t know. Fuck.” He covered his face with his hand and headed upstairs, tears slipping through the cracks. He thought it would make sense. Them. It just didn’t.

He slammed his bedroom door shut behind him, throwing his bag and burying himself deep under his blankets. He fucked up. He fucked everything up.

The sad part was that he wasn’t even really shocked.

* * *

Brendon stared at his back in the mirror of the bathroom with tears on his cheeks and his arms wrapped around himself, gripping a shoulder and his side protectively. Dallon had called a few times since he'd left, but Brendon never picked up, instead just listened to the ringing and pretended like he didn’t know what he was going to say. He was too scared to talk to him. How could he ever hear his voice again?

Dallon's painting was nice, a bridge over a pond with lilies in it, something detailed that only Dallon could perfect on skin in less than half an hour. Brendon wondered how he could do that, how he could create such a lovely piece of art on somebody so sad and dull like Brendon. But that was the thing about Dallon. He worked with what he had and somehow managed to go above and beyond.

He wished he could tell him how much he loved him.

All of a sudden there was a knock on the bathroom door, pulling him out of his pity party, and he met his own eyes again, vision blurred twice with tears and no glasses. He sniffled, but he made no attempt to move. The knock sounded again.

"Give me a minute." He choked out through tears, but the bathroom door opened and Kara poked her head in, sympathy written all over her face. He turned back to the mirror, depleted, and she examined his back as he stared at it intently like it'd give him the answer.

"Monet." His glistening brown eyes met ones that only read concern, and he bristled away again painfully.

"What?" He peeped. She reached out to wipe a tear off of his cheek carefully, scared that he would snap, but his reflexes were frayed at the edges and, well, his spinal cord had a little bit of paint on it.

"Monet. He's a famous artist."

"I know who he is." Brendon almost whispered.

"This is one of his paintings. Water lily pond. It's lovely."

"Dallon did it." He told her apathetically, exhaling in a shaky breath. Kara wrapped an arm around his shoulders after he dropped his hands to his sides and turned around to look at himself in the mirror, face to face.

"Kyla told me what happened." She told him quietly, confirming his suspicions, and he nodded when she squeezed his shoulders. His face was red, obvious that he'd been crying, and he couldn't stand to look at himself anymore. "I'm sorry."

He wrapped a hand around his neck and looked down at the tiled floor below. "It's my fault."

She shook her head. "You can't help that you have feelings for him, Brendon. That's not something you choose. And it was really brave of you to act on it, whether or not he responded the way you wanted. At least now you know."

"I didn't even mean to." He cried. He’d been trying not to break down; it was like he was backsliding, and he wanted them to think he was okay. He didn't know who he thought he was fooling. "He was painting my back. And I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it. I just... felt something. Like he liked me too. And I never thought he did, but then... I was getting these stupid mixed signals. So I kissed him. But he looked so shocked, Kar, like he had no idea where the hell I would've gotten the idea to do it."

"What did he say?" She asked, rubbing his shoulder.

He swallowed thickly and scratched at his skin like he was trying to get himself out of it. "He didn't say anything. I left before he could say anything. I was too embarrassed. I'm so... I'm fucking humiliated. God, I'm so stupid."

"You're not stupid, Brendon, stop. You just should have heard him out. What if he likes you too?"

He shrugged weakly, didn't want to handle the truth right now. The look on Dallon's face made it clear that he certainly did not like him too. It didn't take a genius to figure that out. "I screwed up. Just. All of that was a mistake. I wanna pretend it never happened."

"That's fine." She pat has shoulder supportively, and he sniffled. "Then pretend it didn't happen for now. But you're gonna have to deal with it sooner or later."

"I know." He wiped his cheeks with the backs of his hands. “I’m gonna go. I’ll see you.” He didn’t bother smiling but she nodded, watching him leave wordlessly and not mentioning his tears. He closed himself in his room and found a sweatshirt to hide the constant reminder.

He stared at the ceiling as he fell back on his bed, and he didn’t know what to do.

* * *

There was a knock on the door that evening, and Brendon didn’t have to look up to know that it was his mother. He had learned the sound of her footsteps by now, knew them in every inch of the house, the creak of the floorboard outside of his room and everything. He didn’t tell her to come in, but she did nonetheless.

She laid down beside him with a sigh, so he shifted to give her room, too tired to tell her that he wanted to be alone. “Hi, baby.” She greeted softly, the way she used to when he was young. When he was scared. He hadn't heard that voice in a while.

Brendon hummed in response, bent his elbow, rested the top of his wrist against his forehead. "You know, you're third in line with the attempt of a motivational pep talk, or whatever." He told her insensibly, numb after having cried out all his tears.

She chuckled, because she didn't understand the gravity of the situation. No one understood. That was the thing. He was always alone. He just thought that Dallon was that exception. "That's what this family does, Brendon."

"So you heard about my idiocy." He said blatantly. His misery always got around quickly: it was one of the worst things about having a big family that talked to each other. He missed when nobody knew anything about him.

"Bad news travels fast." She offered, returned with a humiliated sigh. He couldn't believe that it hadn't even been three hours and everyone knew already. "Baby, what happened?"

"To put it simply, I kissed him. And he did not kiss me back." He blinked back tears and turned away from his mother so she wouldn't have to see his face.

She sighed sympathetically but made no attempt to touch him. “Kara told me that you said he didn't say anything because you left right away." He nodded, sniffled, wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "You should've talked to him, Brendon."

“Mama, I just grabbed the guy and started kissing him! He wouldn't wanna talk to me. I screwed up."

"You should go to his house. Or call him. Talk out your feelings. They may not be unrequited."

He sniffled again. "The look on his face was the worst part. He was like, shocked and confused, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to look him in the eye again." Brendon closed his eyes, replaying the moment again and again underneath his eyelids, hearing a million little voices laughing at him in his mind. They just got louder each time he rewinded the moment and played it again, a cacophony of teasing and fingers pointing in his direction.

He could feel his mother shift beside him. He turned to look at her, hesitating, but he wasn’t sure whether to regret it or not when he did. She just stared at him, eyes appreciate for some reason, and said, "I'm really glad you're opening up to us, B." She touched his hand gently, and he resisted the urge to flinch away from the contact. "Now if only you'd do that with him."

"I know, but... he's my best friend, mama. In a different way than Tyler is. We just... we have this connection. And I don't know if he realizes it, but I do. Cause we have all these really deep conversations, and we talk about things that we can't talk about with other people. We're real to each other. Honest. He's told me things that he felt like he couldn't talk to anyone else about, I tell him things that I can't tell anyone else. I feel like I know him so well, and he knows me, but I could never bring myself to tell him that I like him. There's a line, and I crossed it. I just... I thought I could be honest about that too."

“So why did you kiss him?"

Brendon shrugged and looked back up at the ceiling. He was just stupid, was all. He didn’t know how to change that or if he even could. "Mixed signals."

"Well, then when you talk to him, tell him you only kissed him because you thought he wanted it! Tell him it's his fault." She joked with a nudge to his side, and he tried to smile because he knew she was trying.

"No." He let out a wet laugh and she smiled sadly as she turned on her side to look at him. She didn’t know quite what to say; sometimes Brendon was beyond anybody's help. "Baby. I love you. And if Dallon doesn't love you, he's crazy. If he's going to end your friendship because of this, then you don't wanna be his friend anyway."

"You're probably right." He exhaled until he was completely out of breath. He did that sometimes, when he was anxious. He liked to pretend that that would get all his anxiety out. It didn’t, though. It was always there, stitched in his veins like genetic material. Softly, he asked, "Can I be alone?"

"Sure, honey." She shifted to push herself off the bed and he turned over at the dip of the mattress. “If you wanna eat, dinner is downstairs."

"M'not hungry." He muttered, his cheek against the pillow.

"That's a first." She tried to make him smile, but when he didn’t, her own faded into a frown. “Okay. I love you, sweetie. If you wanna talk, come find me.” She blew him a kiss and he could see the sympathy in it. He hated when people pitied him. He didn’t deserve pity. This was all his fault.

He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow to muffle his sob. He fucked up. He knew that. He knew that Dallon didn’t feel the same way, too. Because if he did then everything would be different. Everything would have just fallen together.

He felt like he was going to puke.

* * *

Brendon wiped the counter tiredly Saturday morning as he kept his eyes on the clock. It was the earliest shift so at least he could go back to bed when he was done. The hands of the clock were mocking him, though, moving slower every time he checked.

His siblings were taking orders because he wasn’t in the mood, instead doing the nominal tasks like filling the salt and pepper shakers and sorting sugar by color and brand. Matt did the dishes in the back and the sound kept him awake as he leaned against the counter, counting minutes until his shift was over. He didn’t sleep the night before, just stared at the ceiling and tried to come up with the words to say when he decided to talk to Dallon again. If he did.

He didn’t have any pride left. Any dignity. So if he got rejected again then he didn’t know what he was gonna do.

The front door chimed and Brendon looked up like a robot to greet the customer but a hello died on his tongue when he saw that it was Dallon.

The door fell shut behind him as he waved sheepishly, trying to smile, and Brendon’s chest felt tight all of a sudden. He wanted to say hi, or smile, or do anything that wasn’t staring, but he wasn’t expecting Dallon to seek him out.

He blinked as his words failed him, and Dallon took a seat. “Hey,” Dallon said, but his tone said that he knew he was on thin ice. “Uh. Can we talk?”

“No,” Brendon said in a panic, and he didn’t look away quick enough to miss the look of disappointment in Dallon’s eyes. “I’m, uh. I’m actually going on my break now, and, uh, I have stuff to do, so." He forced a quivering hand through his hair and started toward the back before he could even think about what he was doing.

“Brendon," Dallon called after him, but he didn't stop, just winced to himself at the sound of his voice. "Brendon, it’s eight in the morning!"

Brendon escaped to the back closet, labeled employees only, and Dallon slumped over on the counter, pulling on his hair. Brendon was stubborn. It was so hard to get him to listen sometimes.

A hand on his back made him look up and Kyla nodded her head in a hello as she slipped behind the counter, handing an order to her father through the window to the kitchen. “Hey, kid.” She greeted, and he was tired when he tried to smile. "If it makes you feel any better, he's been dodging all of us. Don’t take it personally."

“I'm sure not like that." Dallon gestured to the closet half-heartedly and rested his cheek in his hand with a sigh. "I just wanna talk to him."

"Well, no, he hasn't locked himself in any closets to avoid us, but he's done it before. He sucks at letting people in. He always has been. Give him a little while." She looked at the back door with ostensible worry before she turned back to Dallon, tired vexation in his eyes. "D'you want anything? On the house, of course."

"Coffee, please. To go. Thank you, Kyla."

She grabbed a cup and he watched her wordlessly, grabbing three packets of sugar and a cup of cream from the bowl Brendon had just refilled. "I think he's just scared. He's scared of most things." She mused while he grabbed a stirrer, blowing on the drink when she slid it to him. "This kind of thing's never happened to him. He's not used to it. You gotta give him a sec to figure it out."

"He doesn't have a reason to be scared, though." He insisted, almost sounding pathetic with desperation. She just watched him for a second, poking his fingernail into the hole on the cap, and he was always an enigma but she wondered if maybe she had figured it out.

“Do you like him, Dallon?” She asked, voice hushed, and he didn’t seem to react, like maybe he didn’t even quite know himself. This was all confusing, wasn’t it? From the start. Either of them had to know.

He stared at her for a minute, unwavering. "Tell him to call me, okay?”

He stood up and she opened her mouth to respond but he slipped out before she could. She stared after him, dumbfounded, and hated that he was so good at fooling everybody.

She knocked quietly on the supply closet door once Dallon was gone, not leaving an answer behind. “Leave me alone,” Brendon called weakly from the other side of the door. She pushed it open nonetheless and he glared at her, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “I said leave me alone, Kyla.”

“Bren, you can’t hide from him forever.” She disregarded, watching him cover his face with his hands. He was sick of this. Everybody butting in. “He wants to talk to you.”

“That’s really not any of your business.”

“Okay.” She hissed, trying not to make a scene. “Just because your love life sucks doesn’t mean you can be a dick. We’re all just trying to help you. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Except that you did, Kyla!” He snapped. “Stop! It’s my life! Meaning it's my fucking business! I just want to be alone, okay?! All I want is to be alone and this fucking family won't let me! You shouldn't even fucking care, anyway. For weeks you've been so fucking mean to me and you can't just act like you suddenly care about me because something's happening to me. I'm not here to entertain you people. I just want to be fucking alone!"

Her eyes widened at the outburst. "Okay. I'm sorry." He shook his head and dropped it against his knees again as she took a wary step back. "I'm gonna tell mama that you're done working, okay? I'll handle everything. You should go upstairs."

He lifted his head to wipe his face off half-heartedly with his fists. "No. I have to work."

"No. Just... be alone." She moved out of the doorway and closed the door behind herself, leaving him alone like he’d asked He took a minute to collect himself, pawing at his cheeks with messy sniffles.

Feeling lost and unusually empty, he got up off the floor and darted upstairs to his room without stopping. Nobody said anything, just let him go, knew he needed to be alone because that was what you got with Brendon. The attention was exhausting. He was exhausted. So he crawled into bed and slept until the sky was dark, so long that he didn't know what day it was when he woke up.

His phone buzzed on the side table that night and he ignored it, instead staring at the ceiling until it stopped. It began buzzing again, a series of messages; he was a terrible friend. A terrible person. He picked up his phone begrudgingly, knew somehow he’d end up regretting it, and Tyler picked up on the first ring.

"What's up, B Urie? You totally went AWOL. I need your scrawny ass immediately."

He sighed without bothering to conceal it, not exactly up for talking. "I've got some stuff going on."

"Hm. Then come over. We can project onto each other."

Brendon sat up and peered out the window. "It's already dark out."

"Have someone drive you." He demanded. "I want you here. Nay, I need you here. Text me if you can. And no, you don’t have a choice.” He hung up, and Brendon was left staring at the ceiling in silence. He didn’t want to leave his room. He didn’t want to face the world again.

He poked his head into Kara’s room and she looked up from her computer, raising an eyebrow as if to ask what he needed. “Could you drive me to Tyler’s? I would take the bus but it’s dark.” She nodded without question and got up to grab her sweatshirt. “Thanks.”

“Sure. Anything.” She bumped his shoulder with her own to get him to smile as she led him back into the hall, abandoning what she was doing as she always did for him. He knew he was a priority. He tried hard not to feel guilty for that.

He climbed into her passenger seat down in the lot behind the diner and she looked like she had something to say. Kara always seemed to. She was his moral compass. He just didn’t need that right now.

“So.” She started after a minute, waiting for him to buckle his seatbelt. He did, looking away from her, because he didn’t want to talk. He just wanted everyone to stop trying to make him.

"Don't lecture me, please." He whispered, throat closing around a sob. He didn't want to think about it.

She buckled her seatbelt and stuck the key in the ignition. Brendon scratched at his jeans nervously. "I wasn't gonna lecture you.”

“Yes you were. Every time you do that little so thing, you lecture me, and I hate it. Don’t do it. I can’t talk about him right now."

“Okay, Bren. That’s fine. I’m sorry.” He only shook his head, not saying that it was fine because it wasn’t. They always did this. Tried too hard to get him to admit to something he wasn’t ready to admit to. He tapped his knuckles against the window as she drove him to Tyler’s in silence, knowing the way by heart.

He thanked her with guilt in his chest but she only nodded, giving him this it’s okay smile as she made sure he got in safely. Tyler pulled open the door for him and Brendon realized he hadn’t been around much lately, neglecting his best friend as they each had been busy finding new ones.

"Hello, my dearest!" Tyler took his hand and pulled him inside, swiftly kicking the door shut. "Look at you. You look a little sad. What's new?"

"Oh, a lot." He followed him into the house and up the stairs, waving to Tyler’s parents in the living room as he went.

"I told them you'd stay for dinner. Did you eat? Not that it matters, cause you'd eat anyway. They’re making that really good chicken that you like. You’ve got good timing.” He rambled, as he did when they hadn’t seen each other, and let Brendon in first. Brendon doubted that was true; he had never been good at doing anything at the right time.

“You changed your walls again?” Brendon asked as he looked around the room at the now black walls, realizing just then how long it had been since he’d been over. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your room stay one color for more than a year at a time.”

“I got sick of the red." Tyler shut the door behind them and gestured to his bed. Brendon sat, dropping his hands between his legs in defeat.

“So you painted it black? You’re such a fucking emo.” He fell backward and Tyler grinned cheekily, taking a seat at his desk instead. Brendon never understood how he could deal with the change so often. How he could even want to. He looked around, though, at the posters and photos and the room he’d come to know well over the years.

“You’re not wrong. So what’s goin’ on, BU? Spill it.”

“Fuck.” Brendon sighed, covering his face, and for a minute he almost forgot before he remembered what he was here for. “Fuck. I fucked up.”

“Okay...?”

“I kissed him, Tyler. And he didn’t kiss me back.” He sat up when Tyler gasped, and Brendon realized how much worse it sounded when he said it out loud. He kissed him. He kissed him. Every time he thought about it, he felt like he was going to puke.

“What? Why? What the fuck happened, Bren?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even fucking know why I did it.” He added, hot tears caught in his throat as he came to terms with what he had done. He ruined everything. “I just thought I should’ve. I thought he wanted me to. But he pulled away.” He met his eyes and immediately saw the horror in them. “He pulled away, Ty. The look on his face— I can’t even explain it. It hurt so, so bad. Like he was disgusted in me for even thinking he would ever want to kiss me.” He pulled his hair so hard that he prayed the memory of it would come out. “I don’t know what I was thinking. How I could do that. I just ruined our entire friendship because of a stupid impulse.”

“I don’t get it. Why did you do it? This is so unlike you. You don't kiss boys without thinking of the consequences. You don't kiss boys at all.”

“I know, I just—“ He cut himself off with a sniffle. “I don’t know. I got mixed signals. I thought it meant something.” He wiped his cheeks when tears slid down them. Of course Dallon didn’t like him. He was pathetic. He was sad.

“So tell him that. Say you got mixed signals. How bad can it be? He’s a good friend. He’ll understand.” Tyler reasoned.

"I can't. I can't talk to him. That was so humiliating." He wiped his tears away like dirt, unused to crying in front of him. In front of anybody, really. He hated when people saw through him. Tyler got up, though, and went to envelop him in a hug when he saw his tears. “I can’t believe I did that.” He cried against his shoulder, hugged him back tight.

“Don’t cry, Brenny bear. It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be fine. He’s, like, your best friend. He wouldn’t cut you off because of a stupid little kiss.”

“I don’t know.” He pulled away, cheeks stained with ugly tears. It hurt, thinking about Dallon not being in his life. It ached so viscerally in his chest to wonder what it would feel like, not talking to him every day or not seeing his smile. He wasn’t even sure he would know who to be without him. “I don’t know. It’s so stupid. But I love him, Ty. He’s so important to me. I care about him so much. And I trust him, too. It’s so hard for me to trust people. But I thought that he was different, you know? Like... we had something." He admitted, the words bitter on his tongue. It seemed like it was all a game to him now. "I didn't want to let myself think that because I knew I would be disappointed when it didn't happen. But then he says shit that makes me wonder, and he makes me think he likes me, and it's like he's playing me and he doesn't even know it. Or maybe he does. Maybe this whole time was just..."

"You can't go there, Bren. Stop. He's your friend. I promise. He wouldn't be that cruel. I just think that maybe along the line you both mixed some things up. I think you have to talk to him and figure it out. Or else you never will."

"What if it was all a joke to him?" He asked just then, voice breaking, and tears slid down his cheeks pathetically, he didn't even want to think it. Tyler shook his head, pulled him into another hug.

"Brendon." He whispered, and Brendon let out a cry of distress into his shoulder. "I promise you that that isn't it."

"But what if it was?"

Tyler shook his head softly, trying to find the words to say to make him feel like this wasn't his fault. "He's just a stupid boy."

"Right. He’s just a stupid boy. A stupid boy that I went and fell for like an idiot." Brendon choked out. "I'm such an idiot."

"Brendon." Tyler tsked sympathetically.

“I thought he liked me,” Brendon admitted, pulling away from the hug to meet his eyes and throat raw around the truth. "I thought that for once in my life, someone liked me. That’s never happened to me before. I thought this was gonna be that perfect moment. I mean, all my life I've been scared of everyone and everything and I was never scared of Dallon. I don't wanna be scared of him. I don't wanna be scared about this."

"No, tiny, it's gonna be fine. I know that it's hard for you to open up and be vulnerable and trust people, I know you're scared. It's okay. You’re gonna figure it out. You can’t pretend this didn’t happen, but you never know. He might just surprise you.”

“I don’t think that he will.” He sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, and he knew he was pathetic. He knew. He just couldn’t stop.

“Okay, Bren. C’mon. You need to stop thinking about him. This isn’t doing you any favors. Listen, you can stay over tonight. We'll watch a movie. I'll show you new music. We can talk shit about the annoying kids in our physics class."

"Alright. Thank you.” He hugged him again, with less force but the same warmth, hooking his chin over his shoulder. He was a good friend.

Friend. The word pounded in his head when he thought about how that was all he and Dallon would ever be.

* * *

“Six out of ten.” Tyler rated the boy in their physics class who sat behind Brendon, sticking his spoon deep into the carton of ice cream without pulling any out. Brendon turned to look at him from where he sat on the floor at the end of his bed, his own carton of ice cream between his knees and chest. He liked to think of other boys sometimes. It reminded him that there were options. Just in case.

“What? No, he's totally gorgeous."

“Nah, he's got that weird hair thing going on." Tyler gestured to his hair and Brendon smiled, picturing the way it swooped over his forehead. Brendon had only spoken to him once, he was a straight boy with a girlfriend, but he was nice enough. Not anyone Brendon could see himself with anyway.

“I think it’s cute.” He defended, getting up to join Tyler on his bed and setting his ice cream aside. He was getting full, anyway.

“Well, of course you would. You have bad taste." Tyler mused, not accusing, just as if he were stating a fact.

"I do not!" Brendon grabbed one of Tyler's pillows and hit him with it, playfully offended that he’d say so. He didn’t have bad taste. Nothing about Dallon could qualify as bad taste. “I’ve only liked one person, anyway. I don’t have a taste.”

"We're not talking about liking boys, Brenny, we're talking about finding them attractive." Tyler corrected him; Brendon didn’t really understand the difference. “I mean, of course it can be the same thing. But when you like someone, you like who they are too. Their personality and stuff. But you don’t have to know someone or even like someone to find them attractive. You can think a guy is a total dick but still find him attractive.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Brendon flopped over into his stomach, suddenly distressed. He thought Dallon was gorgeous and he loved who he was. Everything about him. But Dallon didn’t feel the same way. He couldn’t. Brendon wasn’t anybody to fall in love with. He was just him.

He still felt like a child sometimes, like he wasn't entirely him. Like he was still that kid in fifth grade sitting alone at lunch until Tyler found him. He still felt like he was twelve years old, sleeping in his parents’ bed every night, crying at the sound of the garbage truck or the thought of going to school. He still felt like a child sometimes, but he wasn't. He just wondered when he was going to grow up.

He still hadn’t found a box to put himself in. But Dallon had crawled out of the one Brendon had put him in so then again, maybe the entire system was flawed.

He started to think about what would happen when he got back to school on Monday. How he’d have to keep his head down in the hallways so no one saw the heartbreak in his eyes. So Dallon wouldn’t see him. He had to sit somewhere else in math and try not to look at the seat in front of him in history and he felt sick to his stomach just thinking about what he was going to do at lunch. He wished they could go back to the way it was before, but he knew.

Dallon knew.

“So, I was thinking," Brendon started as he crept into the kitchen with a plan while his mom was making soup at the stove: comfort food, though she wouldn't say it.

He sat down at the table and she glanced up at him, raising a brow skeptically. “What were you thinking?" She asked with intrigue. He heard the hope in her voice, though. She wanted him to solve this. She always thought he was capable of fixing things so easily. She clearly had no idea who her son was.

“So, I have about a year and a half left of school. I’ve had a ton of life experience and whatever, been through all the cliché high school stuff that everyone wants you to go through, and I’ve been thinking that I’ve had enough of it. I mean, I think I’m good.”

She made a face of judgment and looked back down at what she was doing. “You’re not suggesting you drop out.” She replied, but he knew she was being facetious.

“No, of course not. Well. Not really. I was thinking I could try for my GED. You know, study really hard for that and pass and then be done with school.”

She sighed, seemingly annoyed; he knew she wouldn’t entertain the idea. “Brendon, you can’t tell me that you want to leave high school because a boy doesn’t return your feelings.”

“That’s not just it, mama!” He cried in disdain, offended she’d say so. “I hate high school! Everybody hates me. They say mean things to me and shove me into lockers and make fun of me. And now I don’t even have Dallon. Without him, I just have Tyler. Which would be fine except he’s dating Dallon’s friend which means there’s no way I can avoid him until graduation. I just don’t see why I need to be there anymore when I’m not getting anything out of it.”

“Um. An education?”

“You know what I mean!” He whined, but she didn’t sympathize, just gave him a look like he was ridiculous for even suggesting any of it. He knew it was out of the ordinary, but it made sense; so was he. “Socially. I’m getting nothing positive out of it.”

“Good thing school is for learning and not for socializing.”

“Then you can homeschool me!” He suggested instead, not bothering to hide his desperation. He didn’t want to be there anymore, where he was the target of everyone’s hatred. He felt like a deer being hunted for sport.

“Brendon, stop. You are going to get over this just like you’ve gotten over every other slight inconvenience in your life. You’re a teenage boy. You’re being dramatic. It’s sad that you want to leave school because of a boy. I raised you better than that.” She snapped; she never snapped at him, never said he was sad because it was just the way he was. She knew that.

“I just don’t think I can face him ever again.” He cried, tears welling up in his eyes. “Please. Mama, please.”

“Brendon, no. This is not the end of the world. You’ve got a roof over your head, a job, a family, and you’re not starving. I’d say you have a great life. Don’t act like a child. You’re sixteen. Learn to face your problems instead of running from them."

Brendon sat back in his chair, tears in his eyes. She never yelled at him. She never got mad at him. He was fragile, he always had been, he was her baby, her youngest, her most innocent. A tear slid down his cheek, his bottom lip quivered, and she looked shocked, though she knew Brendon.

“I’m sorry, baby.” She apologized quickly, regretting her anger already.

Brendon blinked a couple of times and slid out of his seat, shaking his head, offended. She took a step toward him and he stepped away, like he didn't even know her. She never got mad at him.

He left the kitchen and darted upstairs, tears blurring his vision as he slammed his door shut and crawled into bed with a shuddering sob. He felt like the entire world was conspiring against him. Like this was the plan all along.

The door opened quietly and he squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face in his pillow. “Leave me alone.” He demanded. She didn’t, though. He knew her.

She closed the door behind her and went to sit on the edge of his bed, placing a hand apologetically on his back. “Sweetie, I’m sorry. You have the right to be upset.”

“I’m so fucking stupid!” He yelled, muffled by the pillow.

“You’re not stupid, Brendon.” She assured him, only condoning his cursing because of the circumstances.

“I hate myself so much.”

“Baby.” His mom continued to rub his back, tears in her eyes as she had to watch her youngest lay there and cry into his pillow. It wasn't fair, sometimes, the way that he was. Scared of everything only to be let down when he took one chance. “I’m sorry.”

He let out a sob that ached in his chest, so hard it barely made a sound. “I fucking hate this!” He yelled, he had to get it out, and he was sure everybody could hear but he didn’t care. “I hate being a boy and I hate being gay and I hate everything. I hate that I had to fucking fall in love with him.”

“Honey, Dallon is your best friend." She cooed, but Brendon shook his head. Dallon wasn't his friend. They weren't friends. Brendon had always seen him as more than a friend and it was all just a joke to Dallon. "You just need to talk about it. You can work it out.”

“I don’t wanna work it out, I wanna take it back!” He snapped.

“Baby, look at me.” She caressed the side of his face and pressed her fingertips against it, forcing him to look up. He did, had tried to suffocate himself in his pillow though it didn't work, and as she stroked his cheek, he turned over to peek up at her. “I meant what I said: this isn’t the end of the world. We’ve all been here. At your age, I was doing the same thing.”

“I can’t believe I kissed him,” Brendon admitted, humiliated in himself for ever thinking Dallon could feel the same way. “It was so stupid. I’m so stupid. Why did I do that?!”

“Because.” She wrapped her arms around him and let him cry into her stomach pathetically.

“You took a chance. The best of us do. But you need to talk to him, Brendon. You can't keep doing this, you can't feel this way forever.”

Brendon shook his head and gripped the fabric of her shirt in his fists, seeking comfort like a child. She brushed her fingers through his hair, not saying that he was making the wrong choice. “No. I’m never talking to him again. He probably hates me. I can’t.” He argued; Brendon was always stubborn. It was just who he was.

“Okay. Fine. If you wanna end your friendship, then you can. I’m not gonna stop you. But if you want my advice, I think you should talk it out and see what he has to say. He might just surprise you.”

He pulled away and retreated back to his pillow. “I wanna be alone.” He said instead, a thank you nonexistent.

She sighed in defeat, and she wasn’t sure what she was expecting but when he didn’t even look up, her stomach turned. “Okay. I love you, keiki.” She pet his hair lovingly, apologetically, and got up to let herself out. She wanted to help him. She just didn’t know how to do that when he wouldn’t accept any help.

She closed the door behind her and he curled up, burying his face in his pillow. He needed to fix this somehow. Apologize and fix his mistakes.

He turned over, pulling his blanket up to his chin. He would come up with something tomorrow.

He just wanted things to go back to the way they were.


	11. Chapter 10: No Enemy Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment we've all been waiting for! Leave a comment to motivate me to post more of this long ass bitch :)

Brendon was filling a mug with coffee and making small talk with the people at the counter that Saturday morning, taking their orders and organizing the packets of sugar by color and brand like he did when he wanted to pass the time. It was only eight and the diner was near empty, it usually was in the early mornings, but he liked morning shifts sometimes. There were less people to run into.

Mason was helping Brendon's father cook and Kara was busy taking orders so Brendon decided that he would make friends with the elderly couple sitting together at the counter. They told him stories of their lives, he liked to make small talk on boring shifts, and he knew they were only indulging him because he looked like he’d spent the past week crying. People could sense that kind of thing. He appreciated the distraction, though. He made it a point to take the price of their coffee off of their final check.

As he placed the breakfast special in front of them the door chimed and Brendon glanced up, freezing in place when he saw a hesitant Dallon step inside and bite his lip. It had been eight days since they’d spoken, eight days too many, but he didn’t know what else to do. He hadn’t yet come up with what to say.

The door fell shut, and Dallon looked like he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Good morning." Dallon greeted quietly before Brendon broke eye contact. Kara waved to him cheerfully, she always did, but Brendon turned and grabbed the coffee pot instead to avoid his eyes. He felt Dallon staring at him, not even bothering to hide it.

“Can I get you anything?" Brendon asked, treating him like just another customer, as he refilled the almost empty mugs in front of him.

Dallon slid his hands in his pockets. "Um, five minutes of your time." He started, and Brendon made the mistake of looking at him before he looked away again, feeling hot all over. Anxious. He needed to get out of here.

He wished that a black hole would open up and swallow him whole. “I'm actually working right now, so..."

Dallon sighed when Brendon trailed off, proving that he had nothing else to say. "Kara." He got her attention, and before Brendon could stop him, asked, "Can Brendon take a break?"

"Sure." She called back and without so much as a glance in Brendon’s direction, went back to taking orders. She knew what she was doing but Dallon knew what he was doing too, as he turned back to Brendon with determination clear in his eyes.

"You don't have any more excuses. Five minutes, Brendon, it's all I need." Dallon leaned forward on the counter and Brendon tried to look away but couldn't, because there was something so daunting about him, the fierce look in his eyes, the look Brendon fell for and was scared of now. It was funny how fast things changed. He was just so scary beautiful, staring at Brendon like he was trying to intimidate him.

He just wanted to talk. That was what people said before a rejection speech.

But it was Dallon. His Dallon. The same Dallon that danced in the kitchen and laughed at the cat videos Brendon sent him and drew little cartoons on the corners of all of Brendon's math assignments, now making his heart beat so fast that he swore it was about to explode. He knew him, so why was he so terrified of him now?

It wasn't fair, how much power Dallon had over him sometimes. This wasn't fair. “Really, Dal-"

Rolling his eyes, Dallon moved around the counter to take a reluctant Brendon's hand before he could finish his thought. Brendon began to protest, pulled back and tried to shove him off, but Dallon didn't listen, just tugged Brendon toward the back closet to get him alone for a minute, away from all the eyes. Brendon tried to resist, but Dallon was stronger and taller and had motive.

With one hand still clutching Brendon's wrist he pushed open the door to the supply closet and pulled him in. Brendon was frantic when Dallon closed the door behind them, trying to find a way out; he stepped toward the door and Dallon did too, watching him as if daring him to try it. And then again, Brendon probably couldn't.

Brendon swore he could hear his heart pounding, too close in the narrow space, and he shouldn't be this close to Dallon. He shouldn't... "You really shouldn't be in here. It's employees only, and you-"

"Need to talk to you." Dallon finished for him before Brendon could think of what to say.

Brendon crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, letting his head fall back. He ran out of excuses. He was done. All that was left was the opportunity for truth and that lingering fear that whatever they were, it was over. He just... didn't want it to be.

"Dallon." Brendon sighed pleadingly. This couldn't be happening right now.

"You can't avoid me forever, you know." Dallon's voice was soft, and Brendon just wanted to burst into tears and tear himself to shreds. Why was he being so patient and understanding? Why was Dallon still so kind to him, even after everything? He covered his face with his hands and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms, shrugging hopelessly.

Finally, he admitted in a small voice that barely sounded like his own, "I'm embarrassed."

"Okay," Dallon replied carefully. Brendon looked up at him, and Dallon continued when he dropped his hands in disbelief. "Tell me more. How do you feel?"

“Are you trying to therapy me? Did you just pull me in here to okay me?"

"No, Brendon, I want to know how you feel about me,” Dallon told him sincerely, and Brendon watched him with incredulity. "About this whole situation. I'm confused."

"I don't know how I feel about this whole situation. I don't wanna talk about it, Dallon, okay? I wanna go back to work and I want you to stop coming here and making me look you in the eye when I don't even think I can do that anymore, and I-"

Before Brendon could finish Dallon grabbed a fistful of his shirt in his hand and pulled him close to press their lips together. It was less forced as the one in Dallon's room, warmer, easier, reciprocated. He didn't know what this was, what it meant, but he tasted toothpaste and cherry chapstick on his lips and let his eyes fall shut, not kissing back but not not kissing back.

When Dallon pulled away Brendon reached up to touch his bottom lip, breathing tremulously. "If you're making fun of me, that's really fucking mean."

Dallon was asserting his power over him. Brendon knew that much. He’d been holding it over his head for months. It was like a battle of proving their dominance, except Brendon never stood a chance.

“I did that to shut you up." He admitted in a whisper; Brendon’s fingers shook as he pulled them away from his mouth. He couldn't seem to catch his breath.

Brendon crossed his arms again in discomfort, embarrassed. "Thanks...?"

"Talk to me. Seriously." He put his hands on Brendon's shoulders and slid them down to his biceps, making Brendon tense up on instinct. "Take this seriously."

Brendon let out a huff and looked up to painfully meet Dallon's glistening eyes. He had thought it was all so simple once upon a time, just some silly unrequited crush, but that wasn't all it was. This was Dallon, and the look of confusion in his eyes, and maybe hope, and he wanted answers. Brendon had run out of places to hide. "Did you have any idea how I felt about you?" He asked after a moment, the words caught in his throat.

Dallon shook his head, and Brendon could feel his chest tighten when he gave it a second thought and then added a shrug. "I don't know. I mean, sometimes I thought that maybe... I don't know. I thought it was all in my head." He admitted, and Brendon looked down at his old converse sneakers. So Dallon was aware of what was going on between them. He just never thought to ask.

"Look, I just... I wanna forget that this all happened. Can we pretend that I didn't ruin everything?" Brendon refused to make eye contact again, just followed the pattern of the dirty laces on his sneakers, the way they looped into each hole and always seemed to find their way back to the start. After a while of wearing them when they were new, the laces on the right shoe had frayed, so he bought new laces to replace them. He couldn't figure out how to lace them the same way as the left shoe, so they ended up in two different patterns, and he'd never gotten around to fixing them. Two different directions, but they managed to work together.

Dallon let out a sigh of distress. "Honestly? No." He answered truthfully, playing with the ring on his finger.

Brendon looked up at him, and he could feel tears build up in his throat. Then that was it, he was done trying. So it was a battle, then, Dallon had won and Brendon was left for dead. That was the way he wanted to play it. And to think that he thought he had fallen in love with him. To think that he was one of the good ones. He was such an idiot.

Defeated, he admitted, "Then I don't know what to do."

Dallon shook his head, didn't know how to say it but he had to. "Look, Brendon, I've had a really good time getting to know you the past few months, and I'm so glad that I started talking to you. I'm really happy we became friends." Dallon reached out to take his hands. Brendon had tears in his eyes, ready for the I never wanna see you again, ready for months of building a friendship to be useless. "But I have a question."

Brendon couldn't look him in the eye. He wasn't ready for this. He never should have left his room. He never should have let himself become so attached. "Okay."

"Will you go out with me?"

Brendon looked up at him again and blinked incredulously. "What?" He asked, not missing the look of hope clear on Dallon's face.

He laughed desperately. "Bren, I've had feelings for you for a really long time. I thought that being friends would be the next best thing, and I've been trying to find a way to ask you out for months, but then you kissed me, and now I'm confused. You like me, right? You're not just playing with me?"

"I'm not playing. It feels a lot like you are, though." Brendon responded quietly, shifting his weight. Dallon paused, and he couldn't think of anything to do but to shake his head. Was he sweating? Brendon's vision was blurring.

"Look, I don't know if you feel it, but we have this connection. It's like... we're so different, but in this way where we get each other. And you let me talk about all this stuff you don't understand and you take it to heart and pay attention. I don't think anybody has ever paid attention to me before. And I thought... I don’t know. I thought you were like, this untouchable thing, and I never knew how to talk to you. But I used to wanna be your friend, Brendon, I saw you with your nail polish and the way you act confident only when you're around Tyler and your stupid perfect smile that you hate and I wanted to get to know you. I couldn't help it. And now..." He squeezed Brendon's hands, and Brendon felt like he was dreaming, Dallon's hands warm in his own, staring down at their fingers intertwined. He felt hazy. "I'm rambling. I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's okay. Keep going. I like this." Brendon laughed lightheartedly and looked up to meet his eyes. Dallon smiled warmly but nervously, and Brendon tried to assure him that it was okay but he couldn't seem to find his words.

"I don't know what I'm trying to say. I just... I like you, Brendon, and I didn't think you liked me back until you kissed me, and then you left and I was trying to process what was going on and you wouldn't answer my calls or texts. I've been trying to talk to you for a week."

"You could have just sent this all to me in a text and I would have seen it. If I had known what you were gonna say, I would have responded." He let out an airy laugh.

"This isn't the kind of thing you tell someone over text." Dallon reasoned, smiling, and sure, he had a point. Brendon didn't know what he would have done if he had woken up to this confession. Then again, he didn't know what to do with this confession now.

He shook his head and looked down again, staring at his hand in Dallon's and feeling like it wasn't even him. "I'm sorry. I thought I just ruined our entire friendship; I didn't mean to kiss you and then ignore you. I was scared. It just... the whole back painting thing, it's so..."

"Intimate." Dallon finished for him when he couldn't find the words. Brendon nodded a little too enthusiastically for someone who was having such a nerve-wracking conversation in a diner's supply closet, this was so unreal, and Dallon's eyes lit up, his hand tensing in Brendon's. "That's why I wanted to do it! I thought you'd love it. You always love being a part of the things that I love. I thought it was just... the art. I didn't think it was me. And I— I had no idea you were gonna kiss me. I wasn't prepared." Dallon admitted, and Brendon smiled sheepishly, though he was starting to regret it less and less. Maybe it wasn't so stupid when he thought about it. Maybe everyone was right: he was just brave.

“It's always you, Dallon." He admitted, brutally honest though he didn't mind so much when Dallon was baring his soul too. "And I didn't know I was gonna kiss you either. But you were right there, and I thought you were sending me signals, so I just went for it. I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry. I was looking for a sign to tell you how I feel." Dallon insisted, laughing because this was just ridiculous. Everything seemed so obvious now. How hadn't they realized? “I thought I made it so clear, Brendon. Like, I literally called you cute in every other conversation. I thought, like, holding your hand all the time would give you a hint. I never knew how to say it." Brendon laughed too, but things had never been that simple between them. "I needed to know you felt the same way. I didn't think I could handle rejection.”

"I can't handle rejection either!" Brendon exclaimed. "That's why I left. You looked fucking terrified, Dallon. I thought you were gonna like, puke on me or something. You really need to work on your facial expressions." Brendon leaned against the wall again and folded his arms with a laugh. Dallon half smiled sheepishly, maybe he really was just as nervous, and this couldn't be the same Dallon that he had been just friends with. Because he was right. They were never just friends. It was just a matter of both of them realizing it.

"Well, that's not my fault! When the boy you've liked for years ambushes you like that, you tend to get a little shocked." Dallon said, and then again maybe there was no battle. Maybe they were on the same side. Maybe there were no enemy lines. Just two boys in a supply closet, waiting to see what would happen. Waiting for someone to address something, though neither of them could figure out what it was. But that was okay, because they would in time.

Because Brendon knew it. Maybe he had known it for a while. Everything had a grain of truth somewhere, imbedded in their narrow falsity. Or a grain of potential, rather. A hypothetical that had become something irrefutably sincere, but the problem lied in where they did too. Either one of them could have gained some purchase.

"I can't believe we've liked each other all this time. You should've asked me out!"

"You should've asked me out, dude." Dallon retorted, but he laughed nonetheless.

Brendon was glowing when he took his hand again, trying to memorize the feeling in case he was dreaming. "I do feel that connection. And I was hoping you felt it too. We aren't just friends. I don't think we ever were."

Dallon looked up into his eyes again, solidified but warmer somehow. His voice came quietly, as if in a dream, but Brendon had never been more lucid. "I wanna see where this goes."

Brendon's heart fluttered. "I do too."

"Then go on a date with me. One date." Dallon held up one finger. "And we can decide what to do then."

"Okay. I'll go on a date with you." Brendon took his hand and Dallon shook it, laughing at their playful exchange but honest, anyway. Only when Brendon dropped his hand to wipe his sweaty palm on his thigh did he break eye contact but found Dallon's eyes again soon enough when they sparkled just for him. "So, look, I know we have a lot more to talk about, but I actually do have to work."

“Right, yeah." He stepped back to let Brendon out. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Really. This was good. I'm glad we talked." Brendon pulled the door open and as Dallon gestured for him to step out first, he felt like he could breathe again, like the past week was behind him. Dallon put a hand on his shoulder and followed him back into the diner, earning a few awkward gazes from customers though Brendon didn't even notice.

"I have to get to volunteering, anyway. Should we talk later?" Dallon asked while Brendon made his way back to the counter, tugging awkwardly at his apron and not paying attention to where he was going. He tripped over his foot and reached out to catch himself on the counter, gasping in surprise, and Dallon went to grab him before Brendon hoisted himself back up and smiled in embarrassment.

Dallon's eyes were lit up in amusement, and whoever was in the diner had turned to see what happened, but his gaze was on nothing but the boy in front of him. "Yes, we should definitely talk later. I will contact you." He shot a finger gun at Dallon, who smiled again, wondering what he got himself into.

"Okay, cool. See you, Urie."

"Yes, you will." He agreed, trying to sound casual, but trying way too hard. Dallon laughed as he backed out of the diner, keeping his eyes on Brendon's until his back hit the door and he pushed through it, leaving Brendon a flustered mess until he was gone. Only when Dallon had turned the corner did Brendon smack his palm against his face, humiliated again but for all the right reasons. "God, I'm such a dork."

* * *

Brendon waited for a few hours, trying not to get his hopes up about this so soon. He was antsy all day, barely able to focus and dropping the coffee pot once or twice because that was just what he did.

As he changed his shirt in his bedroom after his shift had ended, the sound of his phone buzzing against his side table made him stop to check the caller ID and smile ridiculously wide, he couldn't remember ever smiling so much, as he stared at the screen and waited because he didn't want to seem desperate. After five rings, barely able to contain himself, he answered the phone, trying to take a deep breath. Only one arm was in the arm hole and the shirt was only half on, but Brendon sat down on the edge of his bed, anyway. "Hey."

"Hey, Urie, are you free Tuesday?" Dallon asked, and Brendon began to tug the rest of his shirt on.

"A peculiar day for a date." He mused; he could hear Dallon laugh on the other line, and he laid down on his bed with a smile.

"There's this art fair I wanna go to, it's at Bicentennial. It might not be that fun for you, but I figure since you always let me drag you along to all my boring art stuff, you might wanna go. And I want the best possible company. Which would be you, of course."

"Smooth."

Dallon laughed and Brendon grinned, loved making him laugh, would spend the rest of his life trying to make him laugh if he could. "Please come. I'll buy you coffee."

Brendon smirked up at the ceiling; he loved playing around with Dallon. It reminded him that they were still friends, but maybe that wasn't all they were. Maybe he'd been tricking himself the entire time. "You're talking to a boy who works with coffee every day."

"You're not gonna be a cheap date, are ya?" Dallon asked, sketched through a smile, and Brendon had promised him once upon a time that he wasn't cheap. He'd keep that promise. He knew Dallon would never treat him like he was, anyway, but boys like him had to protect their hearts.

"I would think not." He laughed, watching the dinosaur holding a cake and biting his lip because he'd seen it all. "But that sounds like a wonderful date. I'm in. Assuming that the intention is for this to be a date...?"

"Oh, it's definitely a date. I'm sorry if I didn't make that clear." Dallon said, trying to sound aloof though Brendon knew him well enough to hear his stupid happy grin. "I'll pick you up, then. It's at six. Dress warm and everything, of course, I'll let you know when I'm on my way."

"Excellent." He thumbed at his bottom lip, scratched a little with his thumbnail to pick at the chapped skin, tried to taste cherry chapstick though he knew eventually it would be solidified in his memory for good. "What are you doing?"

Dallon made a fond noise on the other line. "I'll give you one guess."

Brendon smiled to himself. "Painting."

"Ah, so you do pay attention." He said in wonder, and Brendon giggled, suddenly feeling so light and airy. It was like he was in middle school with a dumb crush, finding out they liked him back. This was better than that. Smiling, he turned over on his stomach. "What about you? What are you up to?"

"Staring at my ceiling," Brendon told him truthfully, he should have figured. But today it wasn't a bad thing, it was just that he could only focus on so much right now. Today, it was just... Dallon. "So, nothing new."

"You need a hobby." Dallon pointed out, laughing though he knew.

He beamed up at the dinosaur holding a cake. A celebratory cake, today. This was something to celebrate. "I do, don't I?"

"Maybe I'll teach you how to paint. You can just steal my hobby. We can do it together."

He shook his head modestly. "I don't think I have the talent for that."

"Please." Dallon scoffed like it were the most ridiculous thing Brendon had ever said, and his eyebrows knit together warmly in appreciation. "You'd be a natural."

"You're sweet."

"Hey, I never asked how you liked the painting. On your back." Dallon pointed out suddenly. Brendon had almost forgotten, had pretty much shut it out until the paint was gone after a few showers and some vigorous angry scrubbing. But he had loved it, it was just that there were some things he really didn't know how to handle. Rejection was one of them.

And still Brendon replayed the look on Dallon's face, the shock, maybe fear, but it wasn't necessary to hold on to now. Now that they'd each established their true feelings. "Oh my god, it was incredible, Dallon. I totally forgot."

"It's okay. You've been busy." He brushed it off.

"Ignoring you." He finished for him with a sigh, knew they'd have to talk about it sooner or later but had kind of been neglecting it. And maybe if he wasn't so serious about Dallon then he'd never mention it, move on like it hadn't even happened, but Brendon had made one mistake after another. He didn't want Dallon to be one of them. "Look, I'm sorry."

"No, Brendon, don't mention it. It's okay." Dallon insisted.

Brendon rolled back onto his stomach. "No, really. I need to apologize. I just... I have feelings for you and I acted on them, which is totally unlike me. I've never done something like that before. I didn't even know where that came from. I freaked out and I was avoiding confrontation, I needed some time to get over whatever was going on and I hoped that maybe things would get better if we weren't talking. I thought that if I didn't speak to you, then you wouldn't be able to tell me that you didn't wanna be friends anymore."

Dallon made a noise of acknowledgment and Brendon frowned. He knew his moral compass could be atrophied sometimes, but... "Brendon, even if I didn't like you back, I wouldn't have ended our friendship over it. I have way too much respect for you and I value our friendship. If we go out with each other once or twice and it doesn't work out, I don't want us to be over. You're my best friend."

Brendon felt his smile soften, placing a gentle hand on his chest. There was a reason he and Dallon were friends. Why they got along. He was so patient, and Brendon required so much patience. "That's so comforting, you don't even know."

Dallon laughed quietly on the other line, pleased that he could get through to him. "I'm glad I can be of service."

"Really, I mean it. It's so good to know that you wouldn't stop being friends with me. Just in case I screw up and it doesn't work out." He lowered his voice, afraid to scare him off all of a sudden. But after all he had done, he was sure that that would be a lot harder than he thought. "Um, for the record, I hope it works out."

"I do too." He agreed, and Brendon could tell he was nervous too, they were both so nervous, scared, even, but excited. This was unfamiliar. Unexpected. “So, I realize that I may have totally screwed up by asking you out over the phone," Dallon added after a minute.

Brendon laughed; he felt good, like the last week hadn’t happened. It did, he wasn’t going to pretend it didn’t, but it felt in vain now. Things felt like they made sense again after months of feeling like a blurry, jumbled mess. “No. I like it. Trust me, it's gonna take a lot for you to screw this up. You're doing good. I'm blushing so much, I don't think you wanna see this."

Dallon tsked. "I knew I should've asked you out in person. I wanted to give you some time to think about it, in case you weren't sure, but you blushing is a whole other story. I don't wanna miss that."

"Oh my god." He laughed, embarrassed.

On the other line Dallon was a grinning, blushing mess too, thankful that Brendon couldn't see him either. "Seriously, Urie, I'm upset I missed it. Blush more often for me?”

With rosy cheeks and a smile on his face, Brendon whispered a much too honest, "Anything for you."

* * *

Brendon found himself getting more jittery and restless before Tuesday rolled around. He barely saw Dallon in school, busy again and maybe just building up some anticipation, but Dallon still walked him to class like he did every day and talked to him as a friend, though the warning signs felt bigger now, somehow. How he laughed at everything Brendon said, held doors open and made subtle jokes and complimented him when Brendon said something bad about himself. He didn't know how he hadn't seen it before.

"We're still on for tonight, right?" Dallon asked after lunch on Tuesday, the first mention of the date since he'd called. Brendon nodded, beaming at him before they parted ways, and that afternoon he went home to shower and practice casual conversation in the mirror. It was hopeless, or pathetic, but he was going to get Dallon Weekes to fall in love with him if it was the last thing he did.

As the doorbell rang downstairs Brendon's eyes widened at himself in the bathroom mirror, he swore he'd have more time, and he twisted his body around in the mirror a few times to make sure he looked okay. Flattening down his shirt, he carded a hand through his hair and went to grab his phone in his room, thinking twice and then stopped to grab something else. A tiny card that Tyler had given him when he told him about the date, a list of icebreakers, though he’d made Brendon promise not to read it before the date. He had tiptoed around the idea of whether or not to bring it on the date— ultimately, the decision made itself when he tucked it awkwardly into the pocket of his jeans before he headed down the hall to meet him.

Dallon was talking to Brendon's mother by the stairs when he reached the bottom, cheeks already red because he had been picturing this all day. At the creak of the step they both stopped talking and turned to look at him, his mother with that excited my-youngest-is-going-on-his-first-date smile and Dallon with a warmer one. "Hi."

"Hi." Brendon smiled awkwardly and walked over to him, about to say something stupid before Dallon held up a single rose wrapped in clear plastic.

“This is a thing that people do on dates, I guess?" He let out a nervous laugh when he handed Brendon the flower. His pale cheeks had turned pink, and Brendon had a feeling it wasn't from the cold.

“Oh. Thank you. This is so sweet." Brendon accepted it, speechless, and held it close to his chest. It felt unreal. Being here with him. Not having to hide how he felt anymore. He felt like he had been dreaming all weekend and now he was just waking up.

“Get together, I wanna get a picture!" Brendon’s mother insisted, overly excited about her youngest’s first date, motioning for them to move closer. Dallon laughed, but Brendon's cheeks burned red.

"Mama, can we not do this?" He tried, but she was already pulling her phone out of her pocket and gesturing for them to squish together.

"Come on." She urged. He sighed, rolled his eyes, but wrapped an arm around Dallon's back nonetheless because he knew she wouldn't stop. Dallon hugged his shoulder, so Brendon held up the rose and put a smile on his face for the camera.

They pulled away from each other and exchanged nervous smiles, apologetic on Brendon's part though Dallon had gotten used to his family by now. "Alright, um, we should go before she makes us start a scrapbook." He pat Dallon's arm with a laugh and went to zip up his jacket. "I, um, I don't know when I'm gonna be back.” He told his mom, handing her the rose. “I won't stay out late."

"I'll have him home whenever you'd like," Dallon promised.

"Just don’t stay out past midnight." She pulled Brendon into a hug and he hesitated, he was literally in front of the boy he was about to go on a date with, but Dallon was different. Dallon already knew him. He guessed that handled a lot of the hard part.

“It's a short walk, so I figured we could use some fresh air. Parking is crazy during the art fair. All the streets are closed and stuff." Dallon explained as they headed down the stairs, so Brendon nodded; as long as he had more time with him.

The cold air met his exposed cheeks and he inhaled the fresh air; it felt like forever since he'd really been outside. Dallon turned to watch as he exhaled in a laugh, stupidly nervous though he had no reason to be, and led him toward the park, crossing the street and reaching out to take his hand without a word. Brendon looked up at him in shock, and Dallon almost went to pull away.

"Is this okay?" He asked cautiously, reluctant, but Brendon nodded reassuringly and adjusted their hands so they fit more comfortably. It felt so perfect, his cold hand in Dallon's, and he was glad he didn't wear gloves, could actually feel this against his skin and know.

"It's fine." It was perfect.

It was awkward, their first real date; an actual, established date. Brendon walked silently beside him, making stupid, painful small talk about the weather— Brendon couldn't believe the fact that he literally said "so... it's pretty cold" on his first date, and why the hell were they talking about it being the record snowfall when there was a gorgeous boy right here—and trying not to look him in the eye because he swore he could do better, it was just that this was all catching him off guard.

But this was Dallon. His best friend, the boy he'd spent almost every day with for months, someone who knew his secrets and the way he looked when he woke up and his laugh. This was Dallon, and he knew him better than most people ever had.

"I'm sorry this is so awkward." Brendon apologized through a laugh, pushing hair out of his face and smiling sheepishly when Dallon laughed too.

"No, it's okay. Neither of us have done this before. Let's just... pretend this isn't a date. This is just us. Totally normal, oblivious us." Dallon said, and Brendon nodded, laughed though he knew he was still going to be a mess because around him, he always was. But this was Dallon, his best friend, and as they walked hand in hand down the sidewalk the worry of will we have anything to talk about was left at home with the past week and months of not knowing.

At the park, canopied booths were set up and people were scattered about, making conversation and selling art. Brendon held on to Dallon's hand and scouted the place out, he'd been to craft fairs with his parents but nothing like this, and maybe he would buy something, just as a memento, and he should probably take some photos, or maybe he should just live in the moment, why was he so nervous, and— suddenly, Dallon tugged on his hand to get his attention.

"D'you want cocoa, or something?" He asked, nodding toward a booth of warm drinks.

"Oh, sure." He let Dallon lead him and began to dig into his pocket for his wallet. "I can pay for mine."

"No, don't worry about it. I got it." Dallon assured him, waving at him to put his wallet away.

They barely picked up their drinks before they laced their fingers together again, exchanging smiles but not a word. Brendon looked around in amazement while Dallon tugged him down the street, acting as a tour guide though Brendon wouldn't understand the art anyway, but it was perfect. It was perfect, and he couldn't figure out why he hadn't just told Dallon he liked him months ago.

"I feel so inferior. Everyone here has so much talent," Brendon laughed awkwardly after having explored a tent of landscape paintings that weren't as good as Dallon's, though he was biased.

"Please, you'd probably kick ass at this." Dallon refuted, gesturing around as he let Brendon lead him this time. "You're creative. Maybe next time you're at my place we can paint together. I'll show you how. It takes practice, though, you know."

"I know." Brendon took a sip of his drink and sighed, the warmth lingering on his tongue. "I'd like that, though."

"Good." Dallon began to swing their hands slowly, watching Brendon watch the sky. "It's not too cold, is it?"

Brendon shook his head and moved his drink in a circle to slosh it around. It was February, but Brendon never felt warmer. "It's perfect." He assured him, tightening his grip on his hand.

"Good. I had to call mother nature in for a favor." He gestured around with his free hand. "Not too cold, not too snowy."

"Oh, yeah? You went all out." Brendon played along and Dallon let out a laugh, extending his fingers between Brendon's and feeling cold skin against his own. Brendon didn't know if his cheeks were red from the cold but he wouldn't tell, anyway, and it was strange, this familiarity, strange in a way that felt comfortable already despite itself. Brendon had been racking his brain all night, but he really couldn't figure out what he had been so scared of.

"I did." He chimed enthusiastically, and when Brendon giggled like an excited child, Dallon squeezed his hand again. "You sure this is alright?"

"It's fine, Dal," Brendon promised. Dallon's hand felt tense in his own, nervous and calculated, but Brendon squeezed back, assured him with a smile because he wasn't expecting this to go so well.

"Sorry if this isn't your ideal date. I've never actually done this, the whole dating thing, and I figured we've had enough fun doing this kind of thing as friends, so you wouldn't mind it. If you're bored, let me know, we can do something you wanna do."

Brendon shoved him playfully. “Dallon, stop, it's a perfect idea. I like all these art things. Your eyes light up and you're always smiling and it's a part of you. It's adorable. And, I mean, it's nice to be a part of something that you care about so much. It makes me feel like I understand you more. Uh." He laughed down at his sneakers. "I'm sorry that's so cliché, but..."

"I know what you mean." Dallon interrupted, eyes bright. "And that's good, Brendon. I want you to be comfortable. Just let me know if you wanna get out of here. I know it's cold. You're okay?" Wordlessly, Brendon nodded again, and Dallon started to tug him across the street. "Good. Then come on, there's someone I want you to meet!"

“You know people here?" Brendon followed Dallon down the sidewalk, watching him nod and tilting his head as the boy's hand guided him. The street was closed off for booths and people were walking everywhere, bundled in gloves, scarves, and winter coats. Brendon was warm, though, with Dallon's hand in his and a warm drink in the other.

"Yeah. They have this fair twice a year, it's run by the gallery downtown. It's always been one of my favorite things. I used to come all the time with my parents."

"I like it,” Brendon observed, looking around at the arts and crafts booths and not noticing Dallon watching him because he just couldn't help it. He didn't always understand everything Dallon was talking about, he didn't exactly get the expression of creativity, but Dallon loved it and by association, he was learning to love it too.

“You don't have to say that." He insisted, but Brendon couldn't bother fabricating anything.

"No, I do! Trust me, I wouldn't just follow you around to all this art stuff if I didn't like it. I like all of this. And I like you."

"Good. I like having this to share with you. And I like you too." He squeezed Brendon's hand a little tighter and Brendon looked down at them, suddenly so aware. This was so unreal.

"Come introduce me to people." Brendon tugged his hand with a convincing smile so Dallon led him to a booth where an older woman with long, wavy orange hair was standing behind a display of painted rocks. She looked up, smiling, and circled the table to pull Dallon into a hug.

"Dallon, how are you?" She asked.

"I'm good." He pulled away and ceremoniously took Brendon's hand again, didn't want to let go of it for too long, though he wouldn't admit it. "Brendon, this is Maura, an old family friend." He gestured to her with the hand holding his cocoa. "This is Brendon, my more than friend."

Brendon smiled, waving the hand with the cup of cocoa in it because he didn't want to stop holding Dallon's. "Hi. Nice to meet you."

She smiled, nodded, told him it was nice to meet him too. "You know Urie's Diner? He's the youngest." Dallon supplied, gesturing to Brendon like he was a prize.

Her eyes lit up in realization, and he pretend curtsied; everyone had heard of them. "Oh! I love your food. I go with my husband all the time!"

"Oh, thank you. My dad does most of the cooking, I'm practically food preparation impaired, so I just wait on people and clean and stuff, but it's still nice. The whole family business thing." He waved his hand around to emphasize.

"There's nothing like running your own business. And I'm glad Dallon is bringing someone other than his mom around, we don't see this too often." She hadn't meant to embarrass him, but it was definitely teasing.

Dallon was blushing when Brendon smiled adoringly up at him. "Okay, I don't have any artist friends." He defended himself.

"To be fair, I'm not an artist either. But I do really like this kind of stuff." Brendon added.

"Well, welcome to the fair. It's a lot of fun."

"Yeah, it is," Dallon agreed, and Brendon looked down at the crafts on her table out of curiosity. They were rocks with different sized and colored dots on them in circular patterns, intricately placed and so delicately beautiful. He must had been staring, because Dallon nudged him and said, "mandala rocks."

Quietly, he said, "I love them."

"Here," Maura reached out and grabbed a small one adorned with blue and green dots. Extending it toward the boy, she insisted, "free of charge."

"Oh, no, I can pay for it-"

"No, consider it a gift. A souvenir for your first time at the fair." She placed the rock in Brendon's palm, and he looked down at it in amazement. Blue, green, and white dots overlapped in a gradient pattern, growing smaller toward the center.

He didn't even know what to say. "Wow, thank you."

"I wanna show him some other booths, so I'll see you later," Dallon told her, and she nodded in understanding while Brendon pocketed the rock to take Dallon's warm hand in his again, almost feeling automatic. He didn't want to stop touching him, he didn't want this to ever end. He didn't know why it had taken him so long to do this, because it felt perfect, like finally it just... made sense. Why hadn't he realized sooner?

"Alrighty. Bye, Dallon. Bye, Brendon, Dallon's more than friend."

Brendon grinned to himself once more, knew that for a long time they had been more than friends though both were too scared to confront it. As he nodded gratefully he could see Dallon look at him out of the corner of his eye, smiling to himself because it wasn't a secret anymore, and didn't have to be. "Thank you again. Next time you come to the diner, ask for me, I'll give you something extra."

"Will do. Have fun!" She waved genially and Brendon followed Dallon back down the street, feeling the weight of the souvenir in his pocket and Dallon's grip on his hand tighten. The contact made Brendon's hand feel sweaty, but he didn't want to let go. He didn't think he could even if he wanted to.

“She's good friends with my mom. She owns this craft store downtown with her husband and their daughter. She used to babysit me." Dallon explained as Brendon followed him to another booth, nodding to say he was listening.

Brendon didn't bother checking the time while he walked down the sidewalk with Dallon and explored. For once time didn't matter because he didn't want this to end. He wanted it to last forever, finally together like it was meant to be, and the past week didn't matter, pining forever didn't, either. It was just him and Dallon, making up for all that time.

As the air got colder they did too, and Dallon led him toward the gazebo to find a bench to sit and talk. They threw out their empty cups of cocoa on the way and Brendon couldn't help but try and chase the geese walking in the park while Dallon stopped to watch. He was just happy, was all, and today was a good day, better than he had been having, better than any, really. And maybe he was acting like a child, giggling riantly and imitating a goose's walk before he gave up and returned to Dallon's side, but it was just charming, somehow.

“Hey, do you want anything to eat?" Dallon asked while they crossed a path cautiously over a patch of ice to get to the benches.

Brendon shook his head, shrugging. "No, I'm okay."

"Are you sure? We could go anywhere you want, if you're hungry-"

"Dal, I'm okay." He repeated with a laugh, and Dallon tightened his hand in Brendon's. "I don't need anything. Don't worry about me."

The thought that maybe Dallon was as nervous as he was crossed his mind when he felt Dallon's fingers squeeze his, worried though he didn't have to be. "Okay, I'm just making sure."

"I promise, I'm all set." He assured him, but felt bad that Dallon was trying so hard because he was nice no matter how little he tried.

"Okay. Good." When Dallon looked away Brendon watched him bite at his bottom lip, seemingly trying to calm his nerves. Brendon loved his lips; he couldn't stop thinking about the way they felt and tasted. The flavor of cherry vanilla chapstick still lingered on his lips when he thought about it, and he prayed he could taste it again because he felt so deprived all of a sudden. Like he couldn’t imagine a time where he didn’t know that taste.

It was quiet as the two kept their slow pace, trying to catch each other blush like Brendon had been doing for months though neither would admit it. A few days ago he wouldn't have thought that this would be him, holding Dallon's hand, watching his sneakers walk beside Dallon's boots and wondering how this was so easy. It was unbelievable, their genesis, or maybe it just happened exactly how it was supposed to.

"Hey, you know how in boy girl relationships, the boy is always supposed to pay for the girl? Like... who's supposed to pay with us?" Brendon gestured to them both awkwardly as he broke the silence.

"Well, you're the one with the job, so technically you." He elbowed Brendon in the side and Brendon laughed, leaning closer though neither of them realized it. "But next time we go out, it'll be my pleasure. I guess we take turns. Don't be heteronormative."

"Ah. Fine." They exchanged smiles and Brendon's heart fluttered. "Well, whenever you want, I'll give you free food at the diner."

Dallon made a noise of acknowledgment. "You just found out the real reason I asked you out."

"Ha." Brendon huffed playfully.

"Ha." Dallon mimicked and tightened his grip on Brendon's hand, just playing around, and Brendon resisted the urge to giggle when Dallon began to swing their hands back and forth dramatically. "Hey, this is really fun."

"I know." Brendon smiled up at him and then back down at his feet. The sky was fading to black, and through the streetlights they could see pinpoints of stars hanging above them, fresh without pollution over the mountains in the distance. "I thought it would be weird. But it's not weird, it feels right. Like we're supposed to be here."

"I feel the same, Urie." Dallon agreed, voice unusually quiet, and Brendon swore he could hear his heartbeat as he watched their feet step in time toward the benches.

They were silent again until they reached a secluded bench together, under the trees and a ways away from the gazebo. Brendon's heart slowed, trying to take in the moment for what it was. Him and Dallon, together. "Can I tell you something kind of ridiculous?" He asked once they had claimed a bench, watching Dallon wipe his palms against his jeans when they dropped each other's hands.

Dallon looked at him with a quirked brow and smiled. "Okay."

"So, I was with Tyler and I told him about our date, so he gave me this." He pulled the card out of his back pocket and handed it to Dallon, barely watching him scan it because he had kind of been dancing between the line of wanting to read it first and not even showing him at all.

"What is it?"

"It's like, a list of things to talk about. Like, ice breakers or something, for the first date. So we can get to know each other a little better. I don't know why he thought it would be necessary, because like, we've been friends for months, but I guess it's stuff we don't know about each other. I haven't looked at it yet. It's kind of weird and I understand if you don't wanna-"

"Let's do it." Dallon intervened eagerly, grinning when Brendon raised an eyebrow at him. “C'mon, it'll be fun!"

“Alright, alright." He took the card back from Dallon's grasp and pinched it in between his fingers, he better not regret this stupid thing. "Tell each other a secret. Something you haven't told them before."

"Oh. Um." Dallon hummed in thought, worrying his bottom lip in his teeth until suddenly his eyes lit up. "Ah. Here's a secret." He leaned in dangerously close, and Brendon could feel his breath as his own hitched in the back of his throat. "I've liked you since freshman year, when I saw you at that back to school party at that junior's house. You were standing with Tyler, and every few minutes you'd check the time because you wanted to leave but you didn't wanna tell Tyler, I knew because you had this forced smile every time you talked to him, but your eyes kept darting around the room like you were searching desperately for an escape. I could tell because you looked so uncomfortable."

Brendon recalled the memory of the terrible house party his best friend dragged him to the first week of freshman year, against his better judgment. Tyler told Brendon that it would be fun, a good start to their high school careers, a way for Brendon to get used to being around strangers while he transitioned from middle to high school, something his therapist told him to do carefully. But, well, Tyler knew Josh would be going, and that was why he even wanted to go at all.

“I remember that day. Tyler was talking about how cute Josh looked, and I thought you looked better. We argued about that on the way home." Brendon's recollection made Dallon laugh. "Kind of ironic now. I can't believe you saw me that night. I can't believe you liked me."

"I can't believe you didn't know!" Dallon laughed, and then again maybe it had been obvious from the start. "I've been watching you for like, two years. You looked so beautiful that night. You looked... out of place, but in a good way, like the whole room was full of teenagers drinking and making out and you weren't doing anything but standing there, taking it all in. Like a pop of color in a dull room."

"The beginning of my high school career." He laughed softly to himself, playing with his hands. He wasn't used to the speed of change, faster than he had anticipated, his first date, Dallon calling him beautiful even when he was a prepubescent freshman with a terrible haircut. "I felt out of place, in a bad way."

Dallon half smiled. "I did too."

“So all those times we bumped into each other at school. Before this year.” Brendon brought up as a second thought. “You liked me?”

Dallon looked down at his lap and laughed sheepishly, nodding like he had been caught. "Um, yeah. I just felt like you were there for me, you know? Even though we didn’t know each other. I was too scared to talk to you before this year. It always seemed so terrifying. I didn't even know we were going to the diner that day in October until we showed up, Ryan dragged me there and wouldn't let me leave. He said he was sick of me talking about you and wanted me to do something about it."

"Holy shit. That's adorable."

"Stop." Red crept up his cheeks, but Brendon pretended not to notice as Dallon gestured to the card. "What's your secret?"

"Well, actually, that's one of the other questions. When we started liking each other. So I need something other than that." Brendon flashed a warmhearted glance at him, and Dallon bit his lip through a smile. "But while we're on the subject, I started liking you the first time I saw you, at freshman orientation. Or, I guess, I can't really say I started liking you then, I didn't even know your name, but, well. That's when I became intrigued. Tyler and I called you Blue Eyes until we found out. I just thought you were cute, but then the guidance lady made us play that game where we say something about ourselves, and you said that you didn't want to tell a bunch of strangers about your life. I thought it was endearing and mysterious and I wanted to know more about you."

“Ah, yes. Freshman orientation." He let out a humorous huff. "You really want another secret?"

Brendon let himself smile, impossible not to. "Yeah. Please." He asked politely, so Dallon made a quiet noise of acknowledgment, taking his hand again.

"Okay. I know this seems like it’s common sense, but my dream is to be a successful artist with art in a gallery and an actual career. It's a stupid aspiration because it's hard to be successful in that field. But the secret is that I want to pursue art because my dad did. His dream was to be an artist and go to art school, and everybody told him that it was impractical, because he wanted a family and art doesn't make much money. So he didn't go to college for art. He married my mom and they had me, and he got a job that would help support us because that was what he had to do. But he taught me everything I know, and he told me all the time that he wished he had gone to art school and I knew he regret not going. And it's hard to raise a family on an artist's salary but he was smart and I knew he would've found out how to do it. He would've been happy doing it, too. So that's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna go to art school, and I'm gonna live out our dreams. Mine and his."

All of a sudden— Brendon didn't know why, if it was Dallon taking this stupid thing seriously, or their holding hands, or the way moonlight glistened in the celestial blue eyes before him— he wanted to hug him and never let him go. So he pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him tight. Dallon hugged him back and Brendon didn't even know what to say. This was more than he expected. It was like the rest of the world didn’t even exist.

“I'm intimidated by you," Brendon said suddenly, and Dallon pulled away to look at him incredulously. "That's my secret. I'm intimidated by you. Not like I was with everyone else, you know? I've always been scared. Not of you. But I'm intimidated. You're intelligent and brave and talented and gorgeous and I'm just me. I don't even know why you're here with me right now when you're... you."

"You're intimidated by me," Dallon repeated in disbelief. Brendon swallowed thickly with a nod, never knew how to word it so he hadn't bothered ever really trying, and then Dallon let out a laugh and Brendon was frowning, afraid he'd messed up already.

"Why are you laughing?" Brendon hit his arm, which in turn made him laugh even harder. He was suddenly way too aware of his surroundings; Dallon was laughing at him. "Stop!"

“I'm sorry," Dallon reached out and grabbed Brendon's arm as his laughter faded away. He looked up at him with wide brown eyes, didn't know whether to be offended or not. "I'm the least intimidating person in the world, Brendon. I have like, two friends, I wear cardigans, I spend pretty much all of my time by myself because I hate socialization and most people, honestly. How is that intimidating?"

“Because,” Brendon huffed. “The first time I ever saw you, you looked like the kind of person that I wanted to know. And when we first started talking, you did this annoying thing where you said all this stuff that made me want to know you even more. You were mysterious and it seemed like you had the world figured out, like maybe you knew something that no one else did. I guess it's just the way your demeanor was. The way you presented yourself."

The look in his eye was something familiar, the one he was speaking of. Like he knew something that Brendon didn't. "That's what happens when you have all your walls up, Brendon. The world hits you and you feel like you can't be close to anyone again. So you lock yourself away and then you lock up that key, and then that key too, and you don't let anyone in until someone proves worthy enough."

"And you're saying I'm worthy?" Brendon asked, quiet but hopeful in the wake of truth. Dallon nodded, hesitant but not lying, and Brendon pressed his lips together because he didn't know what else to say.

“Can I tell you something?" Wordlessly, Brendon nodded, and Dallon looked down at their hands. "Um. I'm... complicated. And I'm not good at people. I've fucked up my relationships with everybody in my life so many times that it's a miracle that they're still here. And the thing, Brendon, is that I always wondered if maybe it's just because I have trouble opening up to people. And if people have trouble understanding me. But it's like... everything with you is so effortless. You get me on this level that not many people do or ever have. And I don't know if it's my liking you, or because of how close we've become in such a short period of time, but... I trust you. You listen to me and you care about me and I have trust issues, Bren, but I don't have a problem trusting you. You never gave me one. And... my entire life, I've been horrible at letting people in, but not with you. You showed me that you're worth it. And now... I don't know. You know me. That's a lot more than I can say for most people."

Brendon thought back to the first day. The first day, and Dallon was sitting across from him, saying that he didn't know him, just knew of him. He didn't know anything about him. Well, things had changed, and here they were. His heart began beating hard inside of his rib cage, as if it were about to break out of his chest and latch right onto Dallon the way Brendon did the day they started speaking. Brendon wrapped an arm around Dallon's neck to pull him in for another hug when words failed to say what he needed them to.

“God, I feel the same way." He whispered, and Dallon smiled to himself. A warm, rosy smile, and a pale blush on his cheeks, interrupted by the curve of his dimples. "That you get me. That you know me. From the first day I trusted you and I wanted you to trust me." He pulled away, letting his hand linger on his side. "And it was weird. Because the thing about you, Dallon Weekes, is that I can't figure you out. I've been trying to for months, but I can't. It makes me want you more, in a way. And that's scary because when I see something I can't figure out I always run the other way. Not this time."

And Dallon was giving him this smile, like something of sympathy. Something that said that Brendon had no idea. Something Brendon couldn't exactly read. And, well, that was Dallon. Unreadable. "I was never made to be figured out, Brendon."

Brendon blinked at him, tilting his head, and sure, right. People weren't made to be figured out. But there was a reason he hid so well, and maybe Brendon really did have no idea, but was it so wrong for him to want to have one? "Is that all you're gonna say?"

"It's all I can say." Dallon shrugged like it was all trivial anyway, and Brendon was left speechless. "So what's the next thing on the list?"

Brendon tugged it back out of his pocket, breathing unsteady, and looked at the next question in the small, typed font before he read it out loud. "Um. Favorite thing about each other."

Dallon sat back against the arm of the bench and thought for a moment as Brendon watched his eyes flicker toward the dark sky, waiting. Glistening. "I love your desire for omniscience." He said finally, looking back at him. "The way you're always curious and asking questions all the time. You wanna know everything about everything and that intrigues me."

Brendon's eyes softened. "I thought that was annoying."

"It's adorable." Dallon put a hand on his arm, and Brendon's heart sped up at the touch. "That's my favorite thing about you. That you always wanna know more."

Brendon searched his eyes, and he should have realized sooner. "My favorite thing about you is your mind. It's like everything you say can be a poem or written into a book and be published and can become a bestseller or something cause everything you say is so smart and pretty and nice. From the first day, everything you said made me want to hear more. I like what comes from your mind."

Dallon slid his hand down to take Brendon's, and it felt unreal again, ethereal, in a way. Because he'd held hands with Dallon before but it was unspoken, turning away, hiding under tables where no one could see, straying from eye contact and blushing fiercely despite themselves. It was a secret. Now Brendon felt like he had no secrets, and that didn't feel as scary as it should have.

"Are there any more questions?" Dallon asked quietly, and Brendon wondered if maybe he was dreaming. He let his eyes linger for a second before they flickered down to the card and found the next point, the last point, and he should have known.

He shook his head and hid the card in his fist strategically, resting against his thigh. "Oh, we can't do this one."

"What is it?" Dallon moved close to peek at the card, and when Brendon pulled it away he plucked it from his hand. Brendon covered his face in embarrassment, and then again maybe he should have read it before he brought it with him. "Have wild, ravenous sex... oh."

"I'm sorry, Tyler is overly invested and completely inappropriate. Trust me, I'll yell at him when I get home. I didn't know that was on it." Brendon assured him, shaking his head too much and burning red, but Dallon laughed, handing Brendon the card again.

“It's fine!" Dallon insisted. "It's fine, I don't mind. Really."

He tilted his head guiltily. "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

"No, I'm not. I'm comfortable, trust me." He took both of Brendon's hands in his own, melting Brendon's poor heart a little in his chest. His fingers were warm, alternating between holding Brendon's and being tucked in his pocket all night, and it was getting dark but Brendon didn't want to think about going home. He wanted to stay here, under the stars, with Dallon, forever.

"Okay." He looked at his lap with a hint of a smile on his lips, cheeks flushed red, maybe the cold, maybe not, maybe teetering on the edge of frostbite though Dallon made it worth it. "I just... I have a question. Are... are we dating?"

Dallon opened his mouth to respond, closed it again, and said after a moment, "Um... no."

"What?" Brendon asked, taken aback because, well, he thought they were having a good time. "I mean, I'm not like, trying to pressure you or anything, but I thought that was where this was going. You know, I'm gay, you're gay, I like you, you like me, we go on a date, we're dating. It's like, simple math."

Dallon laughed quietly and then again, maybe Brendon wasn't so good at math. "I mean, I don't wanna feel like we're rushing into this. I do like you, a lot, and I wanna treat this right. So let's just keep hanging out, Urie, and we'll see where it goes."

“Oh. Okay." Brendon took his hands back and tucked them into his pockets, not bothering to hide the rejection in his eyes. He didn't know how this worked, but...

"Brendon," Dallon said softly to get his attention, worried he'd disappointed him. He had. Brendon looked up again, hesitant though he got nothing but sincerity and honest predilection back. "I know that the past couple of days have been kind of hectic. And I don't know what kind of relationship you want, but I really wanna take it slow. I just— I don't think my head— or my heart, for that matter— can take any more crazy."

Brendon felt another little smile break out on his face; a relationship, a slow one but still a relationship. "Slow sounds perfect." He agreed, and he had a feeling that he would let himself wait forever if he had to. "I don't want crazy either."

"Good. Then we're on the same page. And listen, for the record, I think it will go in that direction. Just stay hopeful. You're good at that." He punched his thigh playfully.

"Yeah, I will," Brendon agreed, knew Dallon and knew he was right. This was gonna work out. It had to. He wouldn't let it end before it could begin. Punching Dallon's thigh back, he added a sly, “so, we can still call this a relationship?"

Dallon smirked and Brendon hoped he wasn't pushing it, but after months of waiting there wasn't anything else for him to do. "Well, it's only the first date. We'll have to go out again to really get to know each other."

Brendon couldn't help but laugh, nodding dumbly because he was waiting all night to hear that. "I think that's an excellent idea. Maybe even an invitation?" He asked with deep-rooted hope.

"It most certainly is." Dallon stood up and stole his hand again, lacing cold fingers together though Brendon was conflicted. He tugged Dallon's hand a little closer toward his body, chest tight and fluttering, cheeks speckled with pink from the cold. "I should get you home. You look freezing."

"I'm okay, really." Brendon insisted when Dallon pulled him up to stand.

Dallon tilted his head, smiling apologetically when Brendon held Dallon's hand to his chest like he was going to take away his most prized possession. "Brendon, I don't want it to end either, but you're cold, and I'm cold, and we have school tomorrow. I'll text you tonight. I'll see you tomorrow. C'mon."

It was refreshing in the way that brutal honesty could be. Too many times had he been left wondering if people ever meant what they said, as the realization dawned on him that little white lies and secrets drew a fine line on the edge of trust for him. The taxidermy of old issues made his chest constrict, but this wasn't what it had been before. "Alright, fine."

Dallon tugged him down the sidewalk and toward the direction of the diner. Cold air pressed into the pavement and Brendon was shivering against Dallon as they walked shoulder to shoulder, holding hands until Dallon tucked them both in his jacket pocket. Bold, perhaps, but Brendon just looked up at him and blushed a million times brighter until they reached the diner, closed for the night and vacant.

Brendon turned to look at him suddenly and his hesitance and self-doubt didn't seem to be so paramount anymore. He had been psyching himself out for too long and so had Dallon; now discomfort and keeping secrets were useless and he swore his acting confident with Dallon wasn't just acting anymore.

"So, just to make sure, would you wanna do this again? I mean, not this exactly, but like, a date? Or something date-ish?" Dallon asked quietly, giving Brendon his hand back though he seemed hesitant to let it go.

Brendon nodded a little too eagerly, but Dallon thought it endearing. "I would like that."

"Okay then. I'll think of something and let you know. I'll ask in person this time." He annexed with a hint of a laugh. Brendon nodded again, this time much slower, and not for the first time in their friendship, he let the signals fuel his desire. His eyes searched Dallon's for a second, he wasn't going to get it wrong, but when he leaned in Dallon reached up to place a finger over his lips, not quite touching them but close enough to brush. In a whisper, Dallon said, "I don't kiss on the first date."

Brendon beamed at him with an almost inaudible laugh while Dallon pulled him into a hug to compensate. This time Brendon couldn't even bring himself to be embarrassed because he knew what this would be. Something monumental. Something worth waiting for. "I can respect that."

"Good." He pulled away with both hands on Brendon's biceps to hold him steady, watching Brendon's eyes with soft ones of his own, honest in a way that Brendon found safe. "Tonight was really fun. Thank you."

"Thank you," Brendon responded, still shivering from the cold, and Dallon retracted his hand to tuck both back into his pockets.

"Alright, go inside, it's freezing out here. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay." Brendon accepted a gentle kiss on the cheek before Dallon turned to leave, reeling and almost speechless. "Bye."

Dallon turned to look at him for a moment with a softhearted gaze and blush on his cheeks. "Bye, Urie."

Brendon waited with his back against the door and shaking hands until Dallon was gone before he let himself inside and headed up the stairs, grinning like a child to himself. He was greeted with a gust of warm air that began to melt the cold force around his body, he had been out for hours and a jacket could only do so much, and it was nice to be home but he missed Dallon already, missed his hand and his face and the way he treated him like he was perfect. Brendon liked to pretend he was, sometimes.

He kicked the door shut, sliding off his shoes and peeling off his jacket, and darted through the house to reach the staircase before anybody could catch him. "Brendon?" His mother called from the kitchen, waiting up for him though it wasn't late anyway. He stopped in his tracks and tried to move slowly up the second step, but the creaky floor of the only house he'd ever known betrayed his trust. He knew it'd get revenge on him for coloring on its walls.

"Yeah." He called back hesitantly.

"Come in here, please." He knew it wasn't a suggestion but a demand, so he hopped down the single stair he'd made it up and walked cautiously to the kitchen, where she was sitting with a mug and a magazine at the table in the dim light. If he wasn't in such a good mood he'd call her out on being too overprotective but he just folded his arms, raised his eyebrows, and she shot a daring look back at him. "How was your date?"

"It was good." He began to leave the room again, but she stopped him.

“Just good?" She asked, and he knew she was going to interrogate. His siblings would too, and they couldn't help it because it was just how they were. Accepting to a fault.

"Yes, it was good." He affirmed, but she arched an eyebrow so he threw his arms out in a shrug. "What do you want me to say? It was amazing. It was unreal. It was the best night of my entire life."

"That's more like it." She let out a quiet laugh, and he let himself smile. "Well, tell me more. Was he a gentleman? Did he pay for you? What did you guys do?"

He rolled his eyes but happily so. "He was very sweet. We went to this awesome art fair thing, we only got hot cocoa, but he paid for it. And as much as I'd love to stay and chat about my night, I'm freezing cold and really tired and I have school tomorrow, so when I have time I'll tell you all about it. I just wanna go to bed."

She tilted her head but it wasn't a cop out, just him telling the truth. "Okay, sweetheart, go to bed. I'll see you tomorrow."

“Okay." He grinned childishly at her, still her youngest, and darted up to his room before anyone had time to catch him.

Once in the safety of his room he clicked on his lamp and pulled the rock and the card out of his pockets, squealing stupidly because he couldn't help it. He set them down on his desk, would find a place for them tomorrow, and looked up at the ceiling as if asking for guidance. Grinning up at the dinosaur holding a cake instead, this was all on him, he fell back onto the mattress and screamed into his hands.

And he may or may not have danced all around his room alone before he went to bed.


	12. Chapter 11: In the Eye of a Hurricane (Heliocentric)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends!!! Bookmark this baby so you don't miss an update :)

Brendon woke up with a leftover smile on his face the next morning, unusually energetic as he got up and ready for school. He slipped into the kitchen for breakfast, where his siblings were waiting for him with premature I told you so's. He knew now how obvious it had been. He just couldn't see it until Dallon himself had pointed it out.

“Brendon’s got hoes,” Matt announced as Brendon crossed the kitchen.

Kara waved a hand to get the attention of everybody laughing, patting him on the shoulder when she passed him. “He does not have hoes. He has a respectable boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Brendon pointed out, but he couldn’t help but beam at them; Dallon had used the word relationship, and that meant just as much without the label. “But we had a good time. So I don’t know.”

“Well, here’s to hoping.” Kyla raised her glass of orange juice, as did everybody else, and Brendon took a playful bow.

Brendon’s dad drove him to school and listened to him talk aimlessly about their night before he dropped him off in front of the school, where Tyler was waiting patiently by the stairs. He caught sight of Brendon's father's car and headed toward him, trying not to run though Brendon knew that look in his eye. Brendon rolled his eyes, he couldn't be more obvious if he tried, and said goodbye before he climbed out and accepted Tyler's hand.

"Tell me everything,” Tyler demanded in lieu of a greeting while Brendon closed the door.

Turning toward him, Brendon grinned and looked down at his feet. “He was so sweet." He admitted, not knowing where else to start. "He picked me up and gave me a rose and my mom took pictures-“

“Which I’ll have her forward to me later.” He tugged Brendon up the front steps.

“Duh. So he held my hand and kept asking if it was okay with me, and he bought me hot chocolate and we walked around this art fair. We actually did your card-“ Tyler’s eyes lit up, “-not the last one, you little bitch, and he was just really fucking nice. And he kissed my cheek after he walked me home. Like, with my hand in his pocket.”

“Oh my god.” Tyler gripped his arm like he was about to pass out, dramatic as usual though Brendon was feeling a little faint too. “You guys are so cute.”

“I know.” Brendon agreed, squealing like a child because he felt like he was still dreaming.

Brendon disappeared into his history classroom, smiling to himself in its vacancy and taking his seat just as Ryan and Dallon followed, talking quietly until they crossed the threshold. Brendon looked up and Dallon looked down, both smiling uncontrollably, last night wasn't real, it couldn't have been real, because Brendon was still breathing and that wouldn't be happening if it was.

"Hey, Urie," Dallon greeted softly, taking his seat and letting his eyes flicker from his lips to his eyes, not bothering to hide it now that he'd tasted his mouth and swore he would again.

"Hey," Brendon peeped, face burning, and for a whole class he watched Dallon's back despite his missing the lesson and making a fool out of himself when Ms. Brown called on him and he couldn't answer. Fueling his social anxiety even further, he was shaking his hands when he left the classroom, getting abducted by Tyler immediately as their classes let out at the same time and they met in the hallway.

As Brendon walked alongside his best friend and rambled about class, a hand on his shoulder made him tense up and turn around, shocked to see Dallon smiling on his other side as he had caught up to him in the sea of students making their way around each other. Somebody pushed past Dallon and he moved closer to Brendon, intentional or not but making his pulse pick up.

"Hey." He greeted timidly, the only word he seemed to be able to find, and seeing him after their date seemed surreal, or maybe unreal, and he didn't know what to say. He wanted to tell him he had a good time, that he was looking forward to the next date, though the invitation had been vague, wanted to pull him into a kiss because part of him didn't want to wait but he didn't, because his throat closed all of a sudden, prohibiting words. He figured, though, that that may be for the best.

“Hey. Um, first of all, I'm sorry."

Brendon's heart rate picked up again, obdurate anxiety settling in his veins as they continued down the hallway. Dallon was going to break up with him before they even started. He knew it was too good to be true. Magical things didn't happen to Brendon Urie. Brendon Urie didn't get fairytales. He got whatever happened after the magic ended, cleaning it all up, wishing for his own happy ending. "For what?"

"That this is gonna be horribly awkward." He scratched the back of his neck when he caught Brendon's gaze. "Um, will you go out with me again this weekend? I understand my initial invitation was vague and I apologize. And I promised I'd ask in person, and my friends said it was stupid of me to ask on the phone the first time-"

"Which it was," Tyler chimed in, cut short when Brendon's elbow jammed him in the stomach hard enough to make him leave. Maybe getting a fairytale wasn't so out of reach; maybe he wasn't giving himself enough credit.

"I'd love to. And you did fine. I would probably be more nervous if I were the one asking. So if that's okay, I'll just leave the asking out to you." He giggled and Dallon beamed at him with enamor, obviously nervous. Brendon had never seen him in that way before, always feigning confidence because it was easier than honesty sometimes. But Dallon's falsity made up for Brendon's lack of temerity and they bonded on that front, just as Tyler and he once had, a balance between no confidence and just enough, even if Dallon's was a fallacy.

"Yeah. That's okay. I've totally got it under control." He put his hands on his hips playfully, confirming Brendon's suspicions, and Brendon laughed because this was so precious to him. "So that's a yes to this weekend?"

"Saturday?" Dallon nodded. "Then yes, I'm free. Have anything specific in mind?"

"Yeah. But it's a surprise. I'll let you know when I'm picking you up."

"Okay." Brendon stared for a second, and before he could stop himself he grabbed Dallon's arm, pulling him in close, and admitted like it were a secret, “I had a really good time last night.”

“I did too, Bren.” Dallon’s smile returned, roses clustering in his cheeks with honesty; he meant what he had written in that card to Brendon once upon a time— they were inevitable. He had meant more, now Brendon knew he did, and that confidence moved their needle further than either expected it to when it was all just blind hope. “I’ll see you in English, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Brendon replied warmheartedly, nodding simply, but before he left Dallon leaned in again, smiling to himself.

"And by the way, Urie, Ms. Brown likes to call on people when they're not paying attention because they're thinking about cute boys. I'm surprised she didn't call on me too." And with that, he turned to wink at him before he disappeared, and Brendon was left speechless in the middle of the hall.

* * *

Brendon spent the better half of his morning getting dressed and undressed before he decided not to dress like a toddler, finishing just in time for Dallon to text him that he was there. He pocketed his phone and ran downstairs, dodging his mother's questions because really, he didn't know where they were going and no, there was going to be no drinking or sex or drugs so she had no reason to worry. He ran downstairs, almost tripping on the last step and falling and breaking his nose, but Dallon was smiling when he emerged from the door.

"Hi. Sorry. My mom had to interrogate me because she's afraid that I'm gonna do something dumb or illegal or both so, y'know, I told her I wasn't. Unless we are doing something dumb or illegal or both. In that case, I lied, but I don't know, I feel like that kind of lie is okay considering I didn't know I was lying. Hi."

"Hi, Urie." Dallon laughed, enveloping him in a hug. Brendon tended to ramble when he was nervous but Dallon knew that, anyway, knew more about him than Brendon realized, and that part was surreal too. "Don't worry. I wouldn't make you do anything you're not comfortable with. You wanna go?"

"Yeah." Brendon nodded, so Dallon opened the passenger seat door and let him in. It felt almost awkward, being alone with Dallon as more than friends but less than boyfriends, but good awkward, awkward in a way that made Brendon smile and blush and look away to hide it. "So, you gonna tell me where we're going? See if I lied to my mom?"

“Not a chance.” Dallon smiled as a curious Brendon watched him. He had no idea what direction they were even going in. Metaphorically and quite literally.

He and Brendon were similar in their coinciding interest in the great unknown. Because Brendon wanted to uncover it and Dallon was it, mysterious to a fault though he spun it with intrigue. Contrarily, the difference between the two was that while Dallon quenched this admiration for the unknown with exploration, Brendon was often holed up in his room avoiding it because while he wanted to know, he didn't want to be the one to find out.

Brendon was staring aimlessly out the window at the mountains passing until almost an hour had passed and Dallon was pulling to the side of the road in a town on the outskirts of Vegas, certainly not Boulder City, and turning the engine off. Unbuckling his seatbelt without a word, Dallon unlocked his door and pulled it open, leaving Brendon staring after him. "Where are we?" He asked, unbuckling his own.

“Summerlin. One of my favorite little places to explore.” He explained while he climbed out of the car and stepped onto the sidewalk, so Brendon quickly followed. “This is where Ryan is from. We spent a lot of time here when we were younger.”

Brendon walked around the car to stand beside Dallon, who was pushing his door shut and letting his eyes wander like he was greeting an old memory. It made sense. He always took the main roads while Dallon had taken the back ones. He hadn't recognized the area. “Oh. Yeah. I, uh, I have family here, but I’ve never seen this part. What are we doing here?” He looked around, but nothing caught his eye.

“Urban exploration.”

Brendon looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows, tugging awkwardly at his clothes since Dallon hadn't specified what to dress for. “What the hell is that?”

The smile Dallon wore reached his eyes, though the question came rooted from Brendon's curiosity, as he and Dallon's relationship was under Dallon's control for the most part. Brendon let him take the reins. That wasn't a bad thing, in fact Brendon felt safe under his wing, realized he could trust Dallon because he needed to let himself trust somebody else for a change. Being in control all the time was tiring. “It’s exploring man-made stuff like architecture and abandoned buildings. You wanna know everything, right? Today, we’re exploring. Today we're learning."

Brendon looked up at the building in front of them that Dallon was raising an arm to proudly, presenting a selcouth little sign hanging above an aged doorway with chips in the wood and an abundance of splinters. Dallon took a photo on his camera and led the way inside, through a short dark foyer with no source of light.

Brendon skeptically trailed behind, watching his step in the dark and listening for the familiar footsteps until a sudden ray of light hit his eyes and filled the room. He looked up in wonder to see an old abandoned theater, dusty and dark and looking like it hadn’t been touched in decades. Light was filtering in through large tinted windows toward the ceiling of the theater, closer to the seats up at the top.

Enchanted, Brendon asked, “What is this place?”

“The Catalina Theatre. It was closed down years ago, but back in the day it was very up and coming.” He snapped a couple of photos while Brendon watched inquisitively.

At the sound of the camera shutter, Brendon asked, “So what’s this all about? What are we doing? Why are we doing it?”

“I think,” Dallon stepped over an old rusted chair and rose his camera, peering through the tiny window as he clicked a photo and continued, “there’s something really cool about a place that used to be important and adorned but isn’t anymore. See, this used to be someplace that meant something, but whatever it was died off and so the meaning did too. I like to find my own meaning in things, sometimes I make up my own stories for them. It's more fun that way.”

Brendon half smiled and followed Dallon down the aisle that had once had a red carpet-like texture but had long since been worn down. “Yeah? What’s the story here?”

Dallon turned sharply and abruptly with a wide hand gesture, making Brendon stop in place with big eyes. “This theater was built in eighteen seventy-one, back when drama was flourishing, in a perfect Vegas scene where musicals made their debuts and young actors and actresses were discovered. A young girl named Catalina took the stage right here, for the first time, as the lead in a musical that would soon become widely known as a masterpiece in the world of fine arts. She’d tried out a million times and finally, just when she was about to give up, she made it. A decade of practicing paid off, and for years she thrived until a freak accident with a faulty light beam left her paralyzed. She was forced to end her career, and the theater gradually faded away to dust once their brightest star was no longer shining. Thus resulting in the total abandonment of what was eventually renamed the Catalina Theatre.”

Brendon smiled thoughtfully and followed Dallon while he turned around again and headed toward the stage. He was quite the raconteur. “That’s depressing.”

Dallon turned to smile over his shoulder. “Not every story has a happy ending.” He turned and climbed the steps of the stage, a dusty, dark wood with remnants of debris on it, where the plaster and insulation of the ceiling and walls surrounding it had chipped away to nothing.

Brendon followed. “How do you know about this, the... what’s it called?”

“Urban exploration?” He nodded. “I read this book once, something my mom gave me one Christmas. It was about these people who were doing urban exploration and I thought it was so cool. I started to look up places near me that I could go, and somewhere along the way I fell in love with the adventure. In a lot of cases it’s illegal, to break into abandoned buildings and whatever, but I like to know about the city’s forgotten architecture and its dying secrets. I don’t always have to play it safe.”

Brendon watched Dallon cross the stage with a frown, too taut to wonder if he should follow. “It’s illegal?”

Dallon turned toward him and half smiled, just enough for Brendon to see it from ten feet away. “We’re in an abandoned building, aren’t we?”

Brendon shifted his weight while Dallon snapped a quick photo of him, a transient click and then silence. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

He gave him another sinuous smile, one so discursive yet convivial that Brendon didn’t even know how to begin to react. He squirmed in place, but Dallon's eyes never yielded their daunting hold on Brendon's. “Don’t you trust me?”

He gave the room another once-over and took in all of its decadence from his standpoint. The smell of dust filled his senses, the kind of nostalgic scent that filled a grandparent’s attic and covered photo albums and old picture frames. It was kind of tragically beautiful. “Yeah, I do.”

Pleased with his answer, Dallon took a few wide steps to meet Brendon in the middle, where he had timidly stopped a mere foot away from the other. The silence lasted for a long minute, staring at Dallon and wondering because there were so many things he didn't know. Formidable, yes, every interaction with Dallon in the past few weeks had to be. But the color blue was electrifying and Dallon's gaze held enough of it to shock him sober.

Finally, as Brendon held his breath, Dallon asked, “Have you ever slow danced with anybody, Brendon?”

“No.”

His lips tilted up into a half smile that held nothing but good intentions, but his gaze remained unfaltering. “Me neither. I’d like you to be my first, if that’s okay with you?”

Brendon looked up and around at the decaying wood and the peeling wallpaper of the formerly baroque establishment. It had once been beautiful but had long since faded into nothing but thick layers of dust and abeyance. Still, there was some magic to a secret meant just for him. Them. “There’s no music playing.”

“So?” He extended a hand. And, well, they were in an abandoned theater in a town far enough away from home in the middle of the day and Dallon Weekes was asking him to slow dance. Brendon couldn’t say no to that.

So with a sweet smile on his face Brendon took the boy’s hand and placed the other politely on his shoulder just like he'd seen in the movies. Dallon’s hand went to his hip right away, pushing the hem of his sweater up just enough to get a taste of what his skin felt like underneath with warm fingertips, a contradiction to the perpetual cold of Brendon's pale complexion. The heat of Dallon's touch radiated off of him and seeped deep into Brendon's bones, making a shiver run down his spine.

Brendon exhaled tremulously when Dallon pulled him close and began to sidestep, he hadn't even known he was nervous, as he melted into his touch and let himself sway. And it was in that moment that Brendon thought, in the midst of a careful spin underneath Dallon’s trusting hand, that he could fall in love with him.

“Can I tell you something?” Dallon asked sincerely, and Brendon’s heart was pounding in his chest.

“Yes, anything.”

Dallon slid his hand out of Brendon’s and rested it on the side of his face, where rosy cheeks flared up into a fire that the intimate touch ignited. “You’re gorgeous. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that, but you’re absolutely, heartbreakingly beautiful, Brendon.”

“Oh my god.” He couldn’t help but look away, though Dallon’s hand remained on the side of his face. He let out an embarrassed laugh to accompany the red on his cheeks, unused to the attention. “Dallon, stop.”

“Not until you believe me.”

Brendon looked up into his eyes, begging for something more than the signals they'd been sending each other for far too long, and his breathing hitched when Dallon leaned closer. Brendon could have sworn that he was about to kiss him, softer than he had in the supply closet but stronger, much stronger now that feelings had been established and walls had been knocked down.

But then he pulled his hand away teasingly, and Brendon’s eyes wandered to his lips, flushed with color and semi-chapped. He was about to try and taste them again before they parted; Brendon couldn't seem to let his gaze stray from Dallon's mouth.

In a whisper, he promised, “I won’t let you get into any trouble.”

Brendon was flustered when his body parted from Dallon’s, but when Dallon raised the camera to take another photo, Brendon’s lips curled into a smile innately. He tricked him into blushing, he thought accusingly, as Dallon turned on his heel and started toward the back of the stage. He spotted a ladder leading upwards and glanced at Brendon with a comically inquisitive look on his face before he began to climb it.

Nervously, Brendon called out, “Where are you going?”

“To explore. Come on!” Dallon disappeared suddenly, and Brendon ran over to the ladder to climb it hurriedly so he wasn’t doomed to solitude in an abandoned building.

The ladder led to a platform way up above the theater, and Brendon gripped the railings tight so that he wouldn’t fall over. “Oh.” He stumbled over a piece of plaster, and Dallon reached out to take his hand. Brendon’s skin was burning when Dallon tangled their fingers together and turned to give Brendon the sweetest smile he’d ever seen, saccharine and rhapsodic, as he guided him away from the ladder.

“I’ve got you,” Dallon promised.

Brendon merely nodded, flustered, and moved into Dallon’s body when the boy pulled him closer, not just for safety. They looked over the theater from behind the stage, through the filtered light of the stained-glass windows, and it seemed so much bigger from where they were standing, like he was so infinitesimal compared to it all. Maybe he was.

Amazed and mystified, Brendon could only manage to ask, “What is this?”

“A catwalk. It’s used so the crew can suspend stuff or point lights or microphones at the stage. It’s not really meant for two people, but I think we’re okay.”

Brendon’s heart was pounding still and he knew that it was dangerous, but he trusted Dallon, despite how far off the ground they were, despite the potential for disaster. Dallon had that effect on him, this instant wave of calm, he held it in his posture and his voice and the way he looked at him, and he had to know. He swore, in the eye of a hurricane, the only thing he could see was Dallon. Brendon couldn't tell if that was intentional anymore.

“This is probably really unsafe.”

“Probably.” Dallon wrapped his arms around Brendon’s waist and held him tight while the smaller boy stared ahead, breath catching in his throat. Because this was Dallon Weekes, breaking rules just for fun, holding him like it were imperative, like the rest of the world was falling down around them and Dallon needed to keep him safe under the gravity of his arms. Brendon’s heart was in his throat. “Isn’t it amazing? Picture it. There used to be so much life, and now it’s all gone. It’s completely quiet. It’s irenic.”

Brendon nodded slowly. He could picture what the theater had been once: bustling with people. Overcrowded. Smiles on jubilant faces and people eager to see the show with an excitement so sempiternal. Roses thrown onstage during the final bows, bright lights and dazzling ornate costumes. It was a lesser known Vegas, more sincere but still holding some semblance of glitz and glamour. He could picture the velvet curtains with aureate trim, hiding the truth backstage. It all seemed so... distant.

“Yeah. It is.”

He could feel Dallon’s breath on the side of his neck as he ducked his head to look from Brendon’s perspective. Blood was rushing in his ears and he could just turn his head and kiss him. He could bring him back down to the stage and pull him close and kiss him hard in front of an invisible audience like he was saving his last breath just for him, like he was the last of a dying breed.

He wanted Dallon in all of his entirety, his idiosyncratic hobbies and the euphonious sound of his voice, he wanted his adorable quirks and the tears he would never let anyone see. He wanted to feel Dallon’s breath on the side of his neck for a long time.

“Kind of like a liminal space.”

A liminal space indeed. He felt light, like he was made of stardust. There was a milky feeling deep in his bones and he wondered if maybe he was dreaming. Maybe this was the way it always was, the way it would always be. Under the threshold, stuck floating in some undiscovered stelliform, where he had left the tried and true but had not yet replaced it. In between his old comfort zone and any possible new answer. He was a suicide plane and Dallon was heliocentric.

All of a sudden a hand made itself extant on his side, and the presence of Dallon’s warm body had parted from his own. He turned, and Dallon gestured toward the ladder. “I don’t want you to get hurt or anything. I’m gonna take a couple of pictures and we’ll go look around more, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Brendon offered a timid smile and carefully began to climb down the ladder while Dallon snapped a few photos of his view. Before Brendon could disappear, however, Dallon stopped him so abruptly that it could have been his imagination.

"Brendon." He said, voice flooded with desire, he needed him to hear it. It was imperative. Fatal. Hopeful. Brendon met his eyes, a gaze he'd never forget, and he vowed, "I promise I'll keep you safe."

Then, with a smirk on his lips, knowing what he'd done, he turned back to his camera, leaving Brendon speechless.

Dallon joined Brendon back on the floor and without a word subtly laced their fingers together, right there where Brendon could detect his making the first move. Or maybe every interaction was a move on Dallon's part. He tried not to grin to himself, but he could spot Dallon smiling too as he led him backstage to see where all the behind the scenes magic happened.

Past the curtains and the vanities, they found themselves in a room with the far wall made up of one big half-shattered mirror. There were scratches and dents in the hardwood floors, an obvious rehearsal space with a wide-open floor and a bar against the mirror for dancing and stretching. Who had rehearsed here? Countless hours and effort put into so many performances, all lost with the beauty of a world that once was.

Dallon crouched down to take a photo of a crack in the glass. “I feel like you could be in theater.” He said casually over the shutter of the camera.

Brendon turned to watch him as he twisted the lens to focus on the shards of glass on the floor. “You think?”

“Yeah. I mean, you’re dramatic but in a good way, you’re fun, you have such a theater-type persona. Plus you’re handsome. Everyone in theater is always attractive.”

If Brendon wasn’t blushing before, he sure as hell was now. “Oh. Wow. I mean, I would be too scared, I think. I don't ever wanna be the center of attention. But. Um. Thank you, I guess.”

Dallon smiled at him over his shoulder and Brendon watched the reflection of the flash in the mirror, seeing himself blush and forgetting that Dallon could too.

"Be careful of the glass.” He added dumbly, addled from the attention.

Dallon laughed gently and Brendon looked down at his shoes in embarrassment, but knew he meant no harm. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

Brendon folded his arms when Dallon stood up, letting his camera fall back against his chest. “I never really thought about all of this. You know, abandoned buildings and stuff. It never seemed like anything... worth thinking about.”

“Yeah, I get that. But it’s so interesting to think about what it all used to be.” He gestured to the cracked mirror. “Like, what happened here? D’you think something fell against it recently or did something happen back when this place was being used?”

Brendon shrugged half-heartedly and reached out to toe the mirror with his sneaker. “I think someone insulted a girl’s costume or performance or something and she swung.”

Dallon laughed and Brendon did too, their shoulders brushing, and all of a sudden he realized how fast his heart was beating. Dallon must had noticed, too, or maybe it was the blush on his cheeks, because he enveloped Brendon in a hug, sliding his hand down to his waist and making Brendon still under his touch as they examined themselves in the mirror, idealized versions of who they were despite everything. “I meant what I said, you know. I know you don’t think so, but you’re very handsome.”

Brendon ducked his head. “No I’m not.” He refuted, unused to the attention.

“Yeah you are!" Dallon argued, pulling away to look at him in disbelief. "Why do you think I like you?”

Brendon looked up at clinquant blue eyes, their oscillation stilled to focus on shining brown ones. “Because of my award-winning personality and charm?” He quipped, grinning hopefully.

Dallon grinned and pulled away to take Brendon’s hand and pull him into a spin, making him laugh and holding him close with chests sewn together as one. Brendon felt like he was falling, this rush of adrenaline deep in his belly at every touch. He used to wonder if everything meant something but now he knew that it did. That thought was jarring, now, but comforting in itself.

“Well, duh, that too. But there’s something about you. I've been trying to figure it out, but I can't. Maybe it’s that you’re beautiful but you don’t know it. It's just you. Your eyes. The dimple in your cheek when you smile.” Brendon smiled involuntarily and Dallon pointed to his face, eyes bright, as cheeks reddened and Brendon went to look away again. “That one. Right there. It’s adorable. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. I mean, anybody can be just another pretty face, but it takes a lot to be a pretty face and worthy. You, Brendon Urie, are totally worthy.”

“Oh.” Brendon didn’t know what else to say so he didn’t say anything. Dallon’s face was an inch away from his own, he could lean forward and steal a kiss and no one would know but the apparitions hiding underneath splintered floorboards and ramshackle walls.

And he thought Dallon was about to kiss him too, but then he opened his mouth and the mellifluous sound of his voice cut the tension like a knife and let the air bleed away. Suddenly, Brendon couldn’t breathe. In a whisper, Dallon's voice came to him as if in a dream: “But a lot of it is your award-winning personality.”

Brendon couldn’t help but laugh again as Dallon led him out of the room and to a wide-open space behind the curtain, vanities set up across the wall. Brendon looked around in wonder, not watching Dallon watch him because he could feel his eyes and some things felt too magic for words.

He approached an old vanity to look at himself in the mirror, placing his hands gently on the surface and meeting his own eyes in the dusty mirror. He wondered how Dallon could call him beautiful after spending a day with him like this. Dallon was beautiful, blue-eyed and tall with angel wing hair and long eyelashes that brushed fair cheeks when he closed his eyes. Brendon was Brendon, messy skin, messy hair, tired all the time and a boy that Dallon found perfect, anyway. But he wasn’t handsome or gorgeous or worthy. He was just him.

The sound of a camera click got his attention, and he turned around to look a smiling Dallon in the eye. Dallon didn’t say anything, just watched Brendon as he stood there, trying to make sense of this all. “I bet everyone in theater is attractive because they have to be.”

Dallon stepped a little closer, letting his camera fall against his chest again. “Yeah? How’s that?”

“Think about it. Everyone on TV or in the media or in basically any form of entertainment is attractive. And when there are people who aren’t conventionally attractive, they use the ugly person trope. If someone’s not stick thin then they’re called fat, and if they don’t have clear skin or perfect hair and a perfect body then they’re ugly. Even in those movies where the main character is a nerd, in the end they get their braces off and their skin clears up and their glasses suddenly disappear and all of a sudden they’re beautiful and everything in their life is perfect. People like to see idealized images, not accurate depictions of real people in real life.”

Dallon nodded and approached him slowly, the way they'd been approaching each other for months. “You’re absolutely right, Urie. I think people use entertainment like that to escape. They wanna be tricked into thinking that everything in the world is perfect because they wanna get away from their lives. That’s why reality TV exists. It’s always gorgeous celebrities living their best life. No one wants to see someone like you or me. Which sucks, because I think people could use people like us to relate to on TV.”

Brendon half smiled. “I don’t think I’m all that relatable.”

“Well, just because you don’t think so doesn’t mean that other people won’t.” Dallon shrugged and looked himself in the mirror. “Personally, if I were working in the media, I would wanna show real teenagers with flaws. Not twenty-five-year-olds acting as sixteen and seventeen-year-olds. I wanna see kids with eye bags and acne and messy hair because that’s what teenagers actually look like. We’re not all perfect and put together all the time.”

“I get what you mean. There are unreasonable expectations and it sucks.”

“Yeah, it does.” Dallon ran his fingers over the chips in the finished wood. “I don't know. I guess seeing perfect actors playing what should be relatable teens on TV is reassuring to some people, but it just makes me feel more alone, you know? You see all these people who are all made up to be flawless with unattainable good looks, and you think that you’re the only one who isn’t perfect. I guess seeing high school on TV is a lot different than actually being in high school.”

“Yeah.” Brendon hadn’t meant for his response to be so quiet, but then again he couldn't seem to find his words.

Dallon was as self-conscious as Brendon was, recognized his flaws and ridiculed himself for them. In that aspect he was just like Brendon, young and insecure and confused. He wasn’t perfect and though insecurity was natural at such a tender age Brendon felt sick about it, thinking about how he didn't know how beautiful he was to the rest of the world. What Brendon didn't know was that Dallon thought the same of him.

Dallon was avoiding his eyes, staring down at the ruined surface of the vanity. Materializing the destruction of what had once been. "If it's any consolation-" Brendon started, and Dallon turned to look at him. "If it's any consolation, you're really pretty."

Dallon’s eyes softened and his lips formed a smile. “Brendon.”

Brendon kept going despite their mutual blush because Dallon needed to hear it, and Brendon needed to say it. “I’m serious. You’re like, really, really pretty. No one’s ever told you how good looking you are?”

“No. Only like, my parents and my friends, but they’re supposed to say that.” He laughed a little, unused to the attention.

“That's so hard to believe, Dallon, look at you." Dallon laughed again, and Brendon's blush burned his cheeks, as he never would have imagined himself being so bold. "I know I'm not good at the whole wax poetic thing, not like you are, but I'm serious. You shouldn't be self-conscious. I think you're gorgeous. I mean, it's shocking. It's shocking to me that you don't know that, too. Your beauty is so intimidating. I can't believe you don't know that."

Dallon didn't know what to say because he hugged him instead. Brendon smiled, knew he had embarrassed himself, but decided that it was worth it when Dallon held him so tight that their heartbeats matched. He felt solid. Safe. Brendon loved that new feeling of being safe. He was dizzy happy, closing his eyes to feel this. The falling.

“Thank you.” He whispered in Brendon’s ear, rooted in sincerity.

"Yeah." Brendon pulled away, bumping their hands together. At once they both seemed to realize their own confessions, because their blush still complemented one another and Dallon went to take his hand, smiling that smile that wasn't really a smile.

“Listen. If you wanna go, we can go grab something to eat and hang out for a little while." He offered. "I think we’ve breathed in enough asbestos and formaldehyde for the day.”

Brendon’s eyes widened. “What?!”

Dallon laughed at himself and wrapped an arm around Brendon's shoulders to lead out. “I’m kidding, Brendon. I’m just kidding. You’ll be fine.” He squeezed him while they started down the aisle, and with a smirk, added a quick, “probably”, making Brendon smack him on the arm.

But in the passenger seat, feeling bold, Brendon reached out to take his hand. He didn't make eye contact but he smiled when Dallon tangled their fingers together properly, warm like they'd been waiting for his return.

Dallon walked him to the door when he got home, the air warmer than it had been. Brendon wondered if that had anything to do with the red in his cheeks. “Alright.” Dallon let out a sheepish laugh and swung Brendon's hands back and forth in his own, seeming to not want to let go. “I feel bad. Every time we do something, it’s always what I wanna do. I’m being controlling and I really don’t mean to be, so I’m stepping down. If there’s anything you wanna do— like, at all— then we’ll do it.”

Brendon held on tight to his hands and squeezed, shaking his head because this was perfect. “I would actually prefer if you could choose what we do, if that’s okay with you." He admitted, making Dallon's eyebrows skip up. "You're better at this than I am. The only request I have is to not do anything that includes heavy physical activity. Or the movies. I hate the movies.”

Dallon tilted his head, smiling with intrigue and looking at him in this way that made Brendon's heart flutter. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because I always see people from school and it’s overpriced. It’s like, thirteen dollars for a ticket and eight dollars for popcorn, and you can’t use your phone or talk or do anything because you’re literally sitting there paying to watch a movie that you can watch alone in your bedroom by yourself with your own snacks for free. I have a short attention span, and I hate watching things without using my phone. It would just be better for everybody if I didn’t go to the movies.” Brendon said it all before he processed it and then he was left staring at Dallon, worried he'd judge him, but Dallon's smile didn't waver.

“I feel the exact same way, Urie.” He spun Brendon around playfully, making him giggle. “Maybe next time will be dinner and not a movie, then? Something classic and not weird like what we’ve been doing. Assuming you’d like to go out again?”

“Classic. I like it. As long as I'm not lying to my mom this time.” They exchanged smiles, and Dallon's hands guided him a little closer, his eyes tracing his features.

"My friends told me I should kiss you." He admitted suddenly, and Brendon wasn't expecting him to say that, or to say anything like that, because he laughed in surprise and shifted his weight when Dallon smiled sheepishly. "I've never been in an actual relationship before so I don't know how to do this. They said I need to ask you out in person, and kiss you goodnight, and flirt and be mysterious so that you wanna get to know me better. And I don't think that applies to us, seeing as you're already my best friend, yes?"

"Yeah, right," Brendon agreed, hesitating to not watch his lips as he spoke.

"Right. So I'm not gonna kiss you." He said, and Brendon raised an eyebrow at him, not refuting because he didn't know how but giving an obvious look of confusion because Dallon added, "I think, Brendon..." He leaned in closer, making the boy's breath catch in his throat. "I think that you're not like anybody else. So I'm not gonna treat you like it."

He exhaled when Dallon leaned back, still holding his hands though he felt like he was watching this from outside of his body. "Okay."

"Okay." Dallon smiled, and Brendon didn't get him sometimes, but that was what this was all about. Trying to get him. Hoping that one day he would. "Until next time. Dinner and not a movie.

"Dinner and not a movie," Brendon repeated, smiling softly because Dallon was right. He wasn't like anybody else. It just took him a minute to realize that. "I'd love that. Call me later, okay?"

Dallon nodded and leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek like a new routine. “I will. I promise.” He linked his pinky with Brendon’s, and the boy returned it with a laugh at the childish gesture but grinned anyway because some things just made sense. “Bye, Urie.”

“Bye.” Brendon unlocked the door and pulled it open behind him, watching Dallon step back to give him space, though he didn't need that anymore. He kept his gaze until Dallon was back in his car, and even then he watched him, dumbfounded. It didn't quite feel real. None of it did.

That was the best part, too. He felt like he was walking in a dream.


	13. Chapter 12: Welcome Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have no self-control and will either post several chapters at a time or none at all. Leave a comment if you like her!

Dallon happened upon the diner more times during the next week than he had since he and Brendon had started speaking. He'd arrive without an explanation or excuse. Sit down at the counter, order only a drink, and do his homework as Brendon worked. Whenever Brendon was stuck behind the counter taking orders and ringing bells, you could gamble on how often Dallon would be sat in front of him, and you would most definitely win.

It was an unspoken observation that when Brendon was working, Dallon was there too. He sat parallel to him, on the opposite side of the counter, and Brendon leaned forward over the counter to talk to him as Dallon had his cheek in his hand, hanging on to every word he said.

He was just the most beautiful welcome distraction.

Brendon poured a cup of coffee for the man a few seats away as Dallon told him a story about one thing or another, keeping him entertained on a slow day. “Hey, Brenner, can you grab those?” Mason asked from the kitchen, gesturing to a few boxes of newly cleaned glasses that sat on the kitchen counter. Kyla was playing sick to get out of work and they were shorthanded, with more work to do even without the typical bustle of customers.

“Yeah.” He wiped his hands on his apron and slipped into the kitchen to grab one of the boxes, still wet from the condensation.

Somewhere between the kitchen and counter Brendon tripped over himself clumsily and dropped a few glasses, catching himself with his hands after they’d already broken on the tile. He jerked his left hand away at the sharp pain, and his brother and dad rushed over to help him.

A few people looked their way and Dallon got up as Mason kneeled down beside his brother, taking his hand in his. “Shit. Sorry.” He apologized through clenched teeth.

“It’s alright, we’ll get it cleaned up. It’s not deep enough for stitches. Come with me.” He pulled him up and tugged him into the kitchen. Brendon complied when Mason ran his hand under cold water, squeezed his eyes shut to prevent tears while his dad grabbed a pair of tweezers and helped him pick the glass out of his skin. He whimpered, and Mason squeezed his shoulder, asked a hushed, “What’s going on with you?”

“I don’t know. I’m off my game.” He admitted quietly. Mason pat his back, a silent understanding, and grabbed a paper towel while Brendon’s dad guided him out of the kitchen. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up, go take your break now. Bandage this up.”

Brendon stepped over the broken glass and frowned up at Dallon, raising a bloody hand. “Is there anything I can do?” Dallon asked, making a face at the blood, and Brendon wanted to say no because it was embarrassing, having to ask for help, but he nodded nonetheless.

“Yeah, uh. The first aid kit is in the supply closet. You’ve been there.”

Without a word Dallon led Brendon into the supply closet and shut the door behind him, muffling the sound of all the commotion in the diner. Brendon gestured with his elbow toward the red box on the shelf with a sigh as he took a seat on the floor patiently, cradling his hand to his chest. Dallon returned with the box but second guessed himself and grabbed a spare paper towel roll too.

"Here." He whispered, tearing sheets of paper towels and blotting the cuts in Brendon's skin. Brendon hissed out in pain and Dallon apologized in a whisper, tossing the bloody paper towel to the side. "God, you bleed like a bitch."

"I know. I always have." Dallon looked up at him and frowned apologetically before he sprayed the cuts with disinfectant and wrapped it in a bandage. Brendon bit his lip and watched him attend to the injury, feeling silly for being babied, but then again he hadn't scared Dallon off yet so maybe it wasn't that bad.

“There. You’re good as new.” Dallon pressed a kiss to his fingers for good measure, his lips soft on pale skin, and Brendon forced a smile back, embarrassed.

“Thanks. Uh, I didn’t know that bandaging a cut could set me back almost seventeen years.”

Dallon let out a quiet laugh, a pity laugh, Brendon made stupid jokes when he was apprehensive, and then reached up to place a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay? That looked pretty bad.”

“I’m fine. I’ve just been kinda off lately,” Brendon looked down at his crossed ankles and admitted hesitantly, “just... being around you makes me so nervous. I’m so flustered and shaky and I don’t even... I don’t know what’s going on with me.”

Dallon moved a little closer in the wake of a confession and Brendon glanced up, breath hanging heavy between their lips. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve been going crazy too. I don’t know what I’m doing, Brendon, I’m not good at this whole flirting thing. I’ve never gone on dates before. I don’t... I don’t even know why I keep coming to your work and distracting you and trying to get your attention. I just want you to like me.”

“I do! I think I’ve made that pretty damn clear, Dal.” He held up his bandaged hand with a half laugh, and Dallon’s sheepish smile became a real one. “Seriously, I don’t know what I’m doing either. Except, you know, getting glass in my hand.” He laughed again when Dallon slid a hand up to rest it politely on his shoulder. “I like you a lot, you know.”

“I like you a lot too.” Dallon’s voice came out in a whisper. “And listen, you don’t have to be nervous around me. I know me saying that doesn't mean anything, cause I’m just as nervous about us as you are, but I don’t want you to worry about impressing me or anything. We’ve established that we’re both humiliatingly nervous, but you’re my best friend.”

“I know. You are too. You just... you fuck me up, Dallon.”

Dallon let out another laugh and reached out to tilt Brendon’s chin up with his index finger knuckle gently, and both of them went quiet. Brendon was suddenly too aware of his surroundings, the enclosed space, Dallon's lips inches from his own, the smell of blood lingering on his skin. “I know what you mean, babe. I guess we’re just a requiem for decadence.”

Brendon smiled at the pet name and nodded when Dallon swiped his thumb against Brendon’s chin and pulled away. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

* * *

Dallon asked Brendon to dinner that Friday night and let him choose the place for compensation, as Brendon wouldn't admit it, but the bandage still wrapped around his hand was because of a certain blue-eyed distraction. He picked him up, let him choose the music, opened the door for him, was a perfect gentleman because it was a date date, a dinner date, at a place where they didn't just order a whole pizza to share. It was a place where Dallon wouldn't let him see the bill when he paid.

Dallon was a nervous wreck as he led Brendon to the restaurant, reaching out to put a hand on the small of his back and second guessing himself, taking his hand instead, making Brendon laugh because he was unused to seeing Dallon so scattered. But he got it, because he was probably as nervous as Dallon was, just hid it well because he let his sister dress him and practiced not stuttering in the mirror for an hour before Dallon picked him up.

“Are you sure you don't need anything?" Dallon asked for the fifth time as he pulled out Brendon's chair for him. “Like, I'll make them clear out this whole place, Brendon, I swear to God-"

"Dallon." Brendon laughed, sliding into the seat and offering a reassuring smile when Dallon looked like he was gonna puke. "I'm perfect. My only request is for you to not hyperventilate tonight, okay?"

Dallon let himself smile and Brendon giggled. "I'm sorry. I'm nervous."

"Don't be. It's just me." Brendon swatted at his hand playfully and went to look at the menu, leaving Dallon staring for a minute because sometimes Brendon just didn't understand his impact on him.

The waitress brought them their drinks and Dallon told Brendon to order what he wanted, it was on him, and Brendon raised an eyebrow but accepted the offer because it was better not to argue. Dallon somehow set the bar so high that they could dance underneath it. He treated him like royalty.

“Can I tell you something?” Dallon asked quietly, eyes glowing in the dim orange light from the lamp in between them, ethereal in the way they seemed shinier, now, when he looked at Brendon.

“Yeah. Please do.”

He leaned forward and half smiled, reaching out to gingerly place his fingers over Brendon's. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot. Like, a lot. As in I can't stop thinking about you. And I am so happy right now. Tell me if this is too much.”

“No, please, keep going. This is really fun.” He rested his cheek in his hand and giggled as he tangled his fingers with Dallon's.

“Okay. So, be honest: do you like me as much as I like you? Because I don’t wanna freak you out but I like, really really like you. A lot. A lot a lot.”

Brendon looked at him in disbelief and Dallon seemed apprehensive; he tried to hide it, though, as if the past few weeks hadn't happened, like they hadn't spent every day flirting and walking shoulder to shoulder in the hall and laughing at everything the other said when they weren't even trying to be funny. As if they hadn't spent months dancing circles around each other, trying to establish what this was without any words because what they forged from nothing had become greater than all the permutations of all the characters originated from hieroglyphics because the writing on the wall wasn't always a bad thing. Like they weren't Brendon and Dallon. Like they weren't them.

Liked him? Of course he liked him. Anybody could see that. “Dallon. You don’t even— I’ve spent two and a half years pining over you. Ask Tyler, ask my family, ask virtually anyone. I couldn’t even tell you how happy I am right now. I like you so much.“

“Good. Because I’m crazy about you, Urie, and I'm gonna prove it.” He was beaming like life was a competition and he was winning. Brendon giggled, letting Dallon hold his hand across the table. He felt like he had won, too.

Brendon had an overactive imagination in which he made things up and prayed they would come true. He'd done it since he was a kid, a genesis each one was subject to, daydreaming and playing in the park with a stick as a sword, pretending to be a pirate at sea, or a knight in shining armor, or a princess trapped at the top of the playset who saved herself because he had no intention of being a damsel in distress.

As he and Dallon were stuck in this purgatory between friends and boyfriends— they couldn't call each other their more than friend forever— he found himself daydreaming as he watched Dallon watch him, a habit he'd never grown out of when everybody else did. Still a hopeful child at heart, still innocent in the way he imagined this a modern-day fairytale unlike the ones he and his mother read when he was young but charming all the same.

He and Dallon were destined for greatness. He was marking it in the books, he was placing his bet, he was promising a God he didn't know if he believed in that he and Dallon Weekes were going to be something amazing.

Dallon drove Brendon home and Brendon sang along to the music playing through the speakers, feeling inexplicably free because for once, he deserved to. And he could feel Dallon watching him as mountains in the distance faded to black and the streetlights flickered on, and he wasn't self-conscious or scared or nervous, he was just happy.

Dallon stopped on the street in front of the diner and got out with Brendon, leading him to the door like a gentleman. Brendon hugged him, letting it linger as he inhaled fresh air and the smell of Dallon's shampoo, and when he pulled away Brendon took his hand, fingers cold in Dallon's, and March was just days away but time moved so slowly when he was here. "I had a good time."

“I did too, Urie. You’re good company.” Dallon stepped back to give him some room, letting his fingers linger in his own before he dropped them with reluctance. “Alright. It’s cold, I’m gonna get home, but I'll talk to you later. Thank you for coming out with me tonight. I’ll see you at school.”

“Yeah. Get home safe. Thank you for everything. Especially not hyperventilating." Dallon laughed and Brendon grinned, loved making him laugh, loved that smile, loved everything about him. "I’ll text you later, Dallon.”

Just like clockwork, Dallon pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a trace of chapstick in his wake. “Please do. Bye, gorgeous.”

“Bye.” Brendon turned to rest his back against the door, folding his arms over his chest like he was lost in a daydream though that was his reality now, lost and dreaming, going crazy wondering when he was going to hear from him again. And if he had any less dignity he'd call now, talk to him on his way home, keep him company, tell him with a hidden blush that he didn't want to leave him for the night. He had a good time. With Dallon he always did.

He watched until he disappeared, wishing he had stayed, his touch ghosting on his skin, before he dug his keys out of his pocket and turned to let himself in. And he wondered, as he found the gold one and stuck it in the lock, if maybe daydreams were dreams because they were meant to come true.

* * *

As Brendon fell into a system of Dallon walking him to class each day and exchanging innocent smiles in the halls and flirting during class and lunch when everyone was watching, he found himself feeling more flustered, waiting for something he knew was coming. There was one end to this. And it somehow became routine, dancing around the question of what are we, or the we need to talk, or the not knowing who was going to ask and when.

Monday rolled around again, and with flushed cheeks from the cold and Dallon's smile, Brendon led the boy up the stairs and to his newly cleaned room. "Hey, how's your hand?" Dallon reached out to tug at the sleeve of Brendon's shirt while they made their way down the hall, passing picture frames and closed doors. Brendon lifted his hand, covered with two smaller bandaids now as the slit had faded to a few red lines.

"It's fine, thanks to you." He bumped his hand against Dallon's wrist, offering an honest smile.

"Good." He returned the look and slipped into Brendon's room, making himself at home, dropping his backpack onto the bed and carding through his things. "Hey, do we have math homework?"

Brendon nodded and closed his door not so secretively, breaking the rules wasn't an issue when both parents were working and the only plan was homework. "Yeah. That one page in the textbook. I have it written down somewhere. Lemme check."

He flopped onto his stomach beside Dallon on the bed, maybe too close as he leaned over to grab his bag, going through the motions of finding his math binder and flipping through it to find the page number. Scribbled in the corner beside a doodle of a cat that Dallon had drawn during a boring lecture in class, he pointed at it and Dallon flipped his book open, finding the page with ease.

"Okay." He clucked his tongue, and Brendon watched silently as Dallon looked over the questions. "What are we using for these problems?"

"Um." Brendon shifted to look at the page in front of him, closer now, watching out of the corner of his eye as he read the problems, number forty-two and three and four. He could feel Dallon's eyes on him, unmoving, as he held his breath, suddenly too aware of the proximity. "The quadratic equation. We have to-"

He was interrupted when Dallon's mouth met his, sudden but still not soon enough. He was stunned for a second, surprised at Dallon's forwardness until he pushed his mouth against his own, trying hard not to smile as he kissed back, or tried to kiss back, he had no idea how but he tried anyway. His pencil rolled off at the dip of the mattress, and the clink of the plastic against the wood floor made him startle again.

Dallon shifted up on his elbows to move closer without pulling his lips away and Brendon's heart pounded against his chest when Dallon pushed against him overzealously. Just a few weeks ago Dallon told him he wanted to go slow, this wasn't slow, this wasn't kisses on cheeks at the end of innocent dates. This was hungry, fervent, desperate. Inviting.

Brendon pulled away when he needed to breathe, but Dallon chased his lips needily like he needed to borrow his oxygen and bumped his nose against Brendon's, letting out a heavy breath, cool metal against hot skin and feeling like melting ice. "What was that for?"

"I don't know. I wanted to kiss you again." Dallon whispered breathlessly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Brendon assured him, his hand shaking as he extended it slowly. Dallon reached up to touch it gently, nervously, and then laced their fingers together while Brendon's heart desperately tried to escape his chest.

Dallon swallowed nervously, Brendon watched his throat move like they were both treading carefully. "Um, I've been trying to think of a way to ask you to be my boyfriend for a few weeks, and I don't really know how to say it, so I'm just gonna ask, um,"

"Yes." Brendon interrupted, never having been one to think before he spoke, as he nodded too much and let his excitement get the better of him again.

Dallon let out a laugh and tilted his head at him, a dizzy smile still in between rosy cheeks, burning with blush and unfathomable purity. "I didn't even ask yet."

Brendon grinned, not bothering to bite it back because he didn't have to anymore. This meant something. This meant more than something. "Okay, go."

"Will you-"

"Yes!" Brendon interrupted again, unapologetic in the way that Dallon loved, he loved so many things about him, the way he interrupted and smiled so much when he was happy, the squint of his right eye and his stupid laugh that made him sound four years old.

Dallon covered his face with his hands, laughing, hiding a blushing mess. “Okay."

"Wait, no. I wanna hear you say it." Brendon added suddenly like it had just come to him. Dallon dropped his hands to meet his eyes, stoic and questioning, with no playfulness left as he let it hang in the air. He wanted to hear him say it. He'd wanted to hear him say it for a while. Holding his gaze for what seemed like centuries, Brendon lowered his voice to one that held nothing but sincerity. "Ask me to be your boyfriend, Dallon."

Dallon was quiet for a second, staring, as if he needed to breathe it in, exhale it, feel it in his lungs, the words he'd had on his tongue for months, the words that died behind his teeth each time. He reached out to take one of Brendon's hands again, and in a voice just as quiet, asked, "Will you be my boyfriend, Brendon?"

Brendon couldn't bite back his grin anymore, instead nodding vigorously because it felt so unreal. It was so unreal. He leaned forward to rest his forehead against Dallon's, placing both hands on the side of his face. "Yeah." He nodded, and Dallon nodded with him. "Yes, I'll be your boyfriend."

Dallon was smiling ear to ear when Brendon pulled away to see his face, laughing again, eyes lit up with the purest look Brendon had ever seen. And Brendon couldn't fathom the innocence of it, bright blue glistening into brown, and it was innocent: that was the best part. Compared to months of not knowing this was uncomplicated, unconvoluted; unbelievable, even. "Okay, good."

"Good," Brendon agreed before they both burst out laughing again, at nothing but their own guileless excitement. "I'm sorry.”

"No." Dallon hid his face in his elbow, hiding his flushed red cheeks as Brendon caught his breath. "I wish we'd established this months ago." He retracted his face from his arm. "I like you so much."

"I like you so much too." Brendon smiled giddily while heat clustered in his cheeks, squeezing Dallon’s hand awkwardly and trying to materialize the feeling of reality. "Listen, Dallon." He added, smile wilting to a straight line, and Dallon's eyes flickered, nodding minutely but not saying a word. "I don't know how to do this. Like, dating. I've never, like, even talked to anybody, and I didn't think something like this was gonna happen so soon, and I feel like I'm not prepared or anything. I'm, like, kind of nervous."

"I get it. I don't know what I'm doing either. I've never dated anyone but I like you, like, a lot, and there has to be a first for everything, right?" He put a hand up when he heard his own words, making Brendon smile despite himself. "I don't mean sex. I mean, I wanna have sex with you eventually, if that's what you want, obviously. I don't want to assume. But, I mean, like, not now. Not soon, either, considering as of two seconds ago we hadn't established whatever we are. Not that it's whatever now. But I mean, like, later. Way later. That wasn't even the point. The point is that I don't know what I'm doing either. I'm just gonna stop talking."

Brendon giggled, shifting to prop himself up on his elbow. "For the record, I do want that. Later. Way later." Dallon smiled too, cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, as Brendon reached out to poke at him playfully to tell him not to worry. "I like you a lot too, Dal, and I want us to be serious about each other. If this works. Which, y'know, I hope it does. And I think we should talk about it so that we don't end up in a position where one of us is uncomfortable or anything, right?"

Dallon nodded. "Yeah. Right. And to get it out of the way."

"Right." Brendon laughed, resting his cheek in his hand. "So let's talk about it. You, um. You haven't, right?"

"No, I haven't," Dallon promised, crossing his heart. "And I wanna wait to do it, if that's okay with you. Despite all that... mess."

"No, I do too." Brendon laughed, waving a hand dismissively because if Dallon hadn't said it, then he probably would have. "Listen. I've, like, never been good at talking about this. So if it'd be okay, I think after this, I'm good on it. Until we're ready. But I think that... you know. God, this is weird." He covered his face with his hands. "Okay. Um. When, theoretically, one of us is ready to have sex, then we should tell each other and figure it out. Because I'm just scared that we'll end up in a situation where I don't wanna be and I won't be able to tell you that I wanna stop. So I'm telling you now, I guess, while I'm feeling bold enough to ask if we can take it slow and talk things out first. I know you said you've done stuff before, and I haven't, and-"

"Okay. Wait." Dallon interrupted, and Brendon looked hesitant when he met his eyes. "Listen. After my dad died, I was in a really bad place. I was fifteen, and I was hurting everyone I love, and I was making mistakes all the time. I had a thing with someone and it was really messy and convoluted and I didn't know what I was doing. I was sad and needed something to cling to and something to take my mind off of everything that was going on. I'm still a virgin. I haven't done anything that can constitute as sex. I don't want you to get the wrong impression."

"Okay." Brendon looked away in embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I don't want you to think that I was judging you or anything. I wasn't. I was just curious, was all. And a little jealous. And worried, because I don't know if I can try to be someone I'm not. Someone experienced."

"Trust me, Bren, there's nothing to be jealous of. That was something that ruined a lot of things for a really long time. It wasn't good for anybody involved. And I don't want you to be someone you're not. I like you for you. And I think it'll be best if we wait, for both of our sakes. I'd never make you do something you don't wanna do. I want us to be equal. I want us to be comfortable together."

"Okay. Thank you." Brendon touched his cheek with sincerity. "Thank you. Really."

"Yeah, of course." Dallon's lips turned up in a smile suddenly, like he was seeing things Brendon couldn't. "I have a good feeling about this. Us.”

The words burned in Brendon's mind as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against Dallon's again. He had a good feeling about this too. A very, very good feeling. "I do too." He admitted, lips inches from Dallon's but not daring to let them touch. "I wish we’d talked about this months ago. I’ve liked you for so long.”

“Me too.” Dallon laughed, it felt so good to laugh so much, and things felt lighter, somehow. Easier. Like the past five months carried so much weight and now they were unstrapping it from their backs and starting fresh. "But hey, it doesn't matter now. This is the only thing that matters. Us." He linked his pinky with Brendon's, pressing a kiss to the tip of his finger and smiling when Brendon blushed. "Now we have homework to do because I have no idea what's going on in this class."

"Yeah. Uh-huh." Brendon giggled and Dallon reached out to grab his fallen pencil, setting a hand on his shoulder for stability. "I'm not gonna be of much help, though, you know."

"I don't care." He bumped his shoulder against Brendon’s playfully. "C'mon, boyfriend, let's do math."

"Ew." Brendon scrunched up his nose but exchanged smiles with him anyway, happy in a way he hadn't been in a long, long time.

* * *

Brendon: hey good morning :) can we talk?

Dallon: ooookay as long as you're not breaking up with me already

Brendon: hey don't get ur hopes up ;)

Brendon: I'm not breaking up with u I just wanna talk!

Dallon: well then that's fine should I pick you up

Brendon: if it's not out of the way

Dallon: Urie you're never out of the way! I'll be there in ten minutes then be ready

Brendon: I will!

Brendon rocked back and forth on his feet outside as he waited for his boyfriend, he really wasn't used to that one yet, digging his hands in his pocket and playing with the case of his phone until the white car pulled up in front of him. Dallon was smiling when Brendon waved, circling the car to climb into the passenger seat and setting his bag on the floor in front of him.

"Hi. I like your sweater. You're so cute." He pointed to Brendon's sweater when he leaned in to kiss his cheek. Brendon sat back, smiling, and tugged at his sweater with a pattern of bees on it, something he'd had for ages but just found at the back of his closet. "How are you?"

"Hi. Thank you. You're cuter. I'm good. How are you? I think I covered everything." He strapped himself in and Dallon made sure he was all set before he took off down the street, twisting his music down.

"You covered everything. I'm okay. I had a dream last night that you were really mad at me but I couldn't figure out what I did." He pulled up to a stop sign. "Psychoanalyze me?"

Brendon clucked his tongue playfully in thought, making himself comfortable. He liked Dallon's car much more than his father's in the morning, all of a sudden. "Um, you're scared that you're gonna do something to ruin this." He suggested, and Dallon looked at him out of the corner of his eye when Brendon touched his hand carefully, insinuating that that could never happen just in case he was. "Us. And, speaking of, that's what I wanted to talk to you about."

An undetectable look met his eyes when he looked back at Brendon. "Us?" He repeated for clarification.

"Uh-huh. Us. And, you know, what we are. Labels, and... public appearance, if you will." Brendon gestured awkwardly with his hands.

"Right. So in short, you're wondering if the label is boyfriend and if we should be out at school." He figured.

"You're so smart." Brendon breathed with a laugh, and Dallon shrugged, half smiling though he understood Brendon's apprehension. "Yeah. I know yesterday we talked about it, and I know you're not, like, the kind of person to be weird about labels and stuff, but I just wanna touch base and talk about us one more time before we go into the world and, y'know. Be us. Unapologetically."

"You do that well," Dallon said, leaving Brendon smiling hopefully at him as he tangled their fingers together. People couldn't see this as wrong, could they? "You're my boyfriend, Brendon. You're my partner. That's what this is to me."

Brendon beamed up at him, glad he'd said it because all night he had been wondering just how real this would feel. "Me too."

"And that's up to you. Being out. People don't bother me like they bother you. If you're worried about what people will say then I think maybe we should keep it quiet for a little while, maybe until the summer, but if you're not worried then I'm not either. I want to be with you regardless of who knows it. So we can hide, or we can show each other off, but that all depends on what you're comfortable with."

"I think we should be out," Brendon decided. And it wasn’t a snap decision, it wasn't just something he'd thought about all night. It was something that had been on his mind every day for years, since the first name anybody called him after he had come out publicly, since boys whispered about him in the locker room and started changing in stalls because they were afraid the faggot was gonna stare at their bare chests. Since he got pushed into a sink in the school bathroom, and some guy shoved him against the locker when he was shirtless and a big bruise formed on his back that he couldn't bother hiding from his mother. Enough visits to the doctor's because he'd been bruised and scratched and hurt enough times to lose count, he used to keep the hospital bracelets as battle scars but then he figured the ones on his body meant more.

Having a boyfriend at school. Having a death wish. They were practically the same thing. But Brendon was sick of being scared what everybody else wanted. He wanted to be himself without hiding.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Brendon swore, crossing his heart.

The school seemed taller and more foreboding as Brendon climbed out of the passenger seat and slung his bag over his shoulder, watching his peers wander around before class and imagining what people saw when he did the same. People didn't matter. No one but Dallon mattered. And he was scared, but he was always scared, and just like skin he grew into it.

"Let's do this, Urie," Dallon said under his breath as he took his hand, spinning him like no one was watching. All of a sudden it didn't seem so scary, showing the world a piece of him that was otherwise hidden. He was always Brendon Urie. Now he was just Brendon Urie with Dallon Weekes. Just him, with a little something extra.

He looked up at Dallon's smile, brighter now in the daylight as their peers turned to look at them.

Something better.

* * *

“Hey, Urie.”

Brendon looked up from where he was kneeling in front of his locker and forced a smile at his locker neighbor, Alex, as he twisted his combination and sorted through his books. “Hi, Alex.”

He slipped his bag off of one shoulder and zipped it open. “So, I heard through the grapevine that you’re dating Dallon.” He mentioned in passing, and Brendon looked up at him, shocked it had gotten around so soon. Maybe that was a long time coming, though. He and Dallon. Everyone knowing it. They did make it obvious to everyone but each other for months. “That true?”

Brendon furrowed his eyebrows and looked back into his locker, at the pens he’d dropped the day before, and reached in to pick them up. “Uh, depends. You gonna hit me for it?”

Alex half laughed and pulled a few books out of his backpack. “No, I’m not gonna hit you. Just wondering if it was true.”

“Oh. Sorry, just taking precautions.” He laughed awkwardly, sheepish though he had to ask, and got up off his knees. “Yeah, it’s true.”

“Cool. Dallon seems nice.” Alex leaned against the wall and Brendon dusted his knees off. “We did a project together once. I liked talking to him. He’s a good one to have in your corner.”

Brendon looked up from where he was trying to flick the dust off of his leggings. “What do you mean?” He asked, though he wasn’t sure he needed to.

“Oh, nothing. He just stands up for people when no one else does. I mean, there were rumors about this girl in chemistry last year, his lab partner, and he straight up cussed these dudes who were making fun of her out. It was nuts. And then you, of course. He always defends you.” Brendon’s heart swelled at the thought of it. Someone sticking up for him. No one ever stuck up for him. “Like I said. Good guy to have in your corner.”

“Yeah. He really is.” He half smiled, reaching out to grab his English notebook from the top shelf of his locker. Dallon was a good guy to have in your corner. Brendon knew that because he stood by him for months. There weren’t a lot of people that would do that for someone like Brendon.

“He’s fierce too. Stands up for himself.” He added thoughtfully, but added, “I guess I don’t have to tell you that, though, huh?

Brendon smiled warmly. “No, I appreciate it. It’s a good thing that that’s how people see him.” He held his notebook to his chest as his heart pounded hard inside of it. “Can’t say the same about me.”

Alex tsked. “Nah. People just don’t know how cool you are.”

“I wouldn’t exactly describe myself as cool.”

“Either way.” He punched Brendon’s upper arm and Brendon reminded himself not to recoil, that not everyone had bad intentions. “People don’t know you well enough. Don’t judge a book by its cover, right?”

“Yeah. Right.” He smiled again, grateful for all their little locker conversations, and pushed his shut as the warning bell rang. “I’ll see you in stats.”

“See you, Brendon.” He nodded at him and Brendon headed toward his class, rolling the spiral bound of his notebook under his thumb and watching his black converse walk a little more confidently than before.

Across the school, Dallon was shoving his things into his locker when this guy he knew from physics, Spencer something, greeted him, exchanging his books a few lockers down. Dallon nodded his head in a hello, never really keen on conversation with people who weren’t his friends.

“So, I saw you and Brendon Urie this morning.” He said conversationally, and Dallon raised an eyebrow but didn’t look up from what he was doing. People always wanted the latest drama. He wasn’t surprised they were asking already. “That new?”

“Yep. Just made it official.” He fake smiled, hated telling people anything but felt like Brendon at least deserved for him to tell the truth about them.

“Hm.” He crossed his arms, seemingly observing Dallon, and Dallon gave him a look to spit it out already, he didn’t have all day. “I just think you should be cautious, is all.”

Dallon stood up straight, feeling somewhat confronted. “Meaning?”

Spencer shook his head, trying not to come across as nosy. “I hear he gets around, man. That’s all. You might wanna watch it.”

Dallon looked at him in disbelief. “Gets around? As in sleeps with?” Spencer only shrugged, but a hesitant nod followed. “No. No, that is so far from true. And you’re way out of line. That’s not him. People just get off on teasing him. Doesn’t make any of it true.”

“I don’t know, dude. It’s just what I’ve heard.” He shrugged again, and Dallon looked up at him narrowly as he slipped his books into his bag. “He has a reputation. I know I wouldn’t want to associate myself with that. Just be careful.”

“With all due respect, I’m fairly certain I know Brendon better than you do. And it’s very elementary to believe all the rumors you hear on the schoolyard. Grow up.” He pushed his locker shut and tightened his grip on his bag, almost as tight as his jaw. “I’m gonna be late for class.” He added in lieu of a goodbye, and headed to his class without waiting for a response.

He shook his head to himself, rolled his eyes, and reminded himself not to get mad.

* * *

“So, there’s this guy.” Dallon turned around and smiled suddenly, reaching out a hand as Brendon grinned back at him. “And I have the biggest, stupidest crush on him, and for whatever reason, he decided to like me back.” He finished buoyantly, letting Dallon take his hand. “Hi. How was your day?”

“Uneventful as usual. Yours?”

“Same.” Brendon danced back and forth with Dallon’s hands in his, leading him to his car.

He climbed into the passenger seat and Dallon got into the driver’s, moving like it were a routine. They had gotten so used to each other’s company that they had begun to establish one. He set his bag on the floor, buckled his seatbelt, made himself comfortable, and Dallon searched through his bag for his key ring.

“Hey, so, did anyone ask you about us today?” Brendon asked after a minute, and Dallon looked up at him as he thumbed through his keys. “I mean, people mentioned it to me. Word got around quick, I guess. I was just wondering if they were saying stuff to you too.”

“Oh. Yeah, some stuff.” He recalled passively. “Sometimes people have things to say but it’s not their business. I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

“Oh.” Brendon observed his face, running his nails over the grooves of his seatbelt. He guessed Dallon didn’t hear the same things as him, then. But then again, they were different people with different reputations. People were bound to have worse things to say about Brendon. “You know, I was talking to my friend Alex and he said that you stand up for people a lot. That you stand up for me.”

“Yeah, I guess I do. I just don’t want people to be mean. Especially when the person they’re being mean to doesn’t deserve it.” He stuck the key in the ignition and the engine hummed to life. “If someone’s talking about you behind your back then I’m gonna defend you. It’s not fair. You can’t defend yourself, you know?”

“That’s really nice of you, Dal. I don’t know a lot of people who are like that. Who care enough about people to stick up for them when they’re not around.” His words were gentle like he was just realizing how impactive this boy really was. “You’re a really good person.”

Dallon looked over at him, blue eyes shining, and he didn’t know what to say for a moment. It was always so unexpected to hear those words. He turned toward him, Brendon’s eyes watching, unobstructed, and asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Brendon broke into a smile and nodded, reaching out a hand boldly to rest on Dallon’s cheek. Dallon pressed his lips softly to Brendon’s and he tried to bite back his smile but he couldn’t, because there was something so beautiful about their simplicity. How well they managed to fit. It was all about the dynamic. The puzzle piece type of infatuation.

“I think...” Dallon whispered as he pulled away, Brendon’s cheeks red when he opened his eyes to see big brown ones wide with wonder. “You’re a really good person too.”

* * *

After a few days Brendon found himself in a place where he had been before except somehow better, because this time there was someone by his side. People looked and pointed and judged, whispering his name when they thought he couldn't hear him. But there was a difference between sophomore and junior year. Brendon had started wearing his hair a different way, glasses instead of seeing the world in a blur, retired his old pink leggings because they had a tear in the thigh and anyway, his brother told him that they were probably half the reason everyone was always looking at him. But he also had a boyfriend now, maybe even some friends, and he wasn't as scared and fragile and prone to letting what everybody said get to him.

And just as well, because every time someone said Brendon's name it was followed by laughter or a look of disbelief because really, it was astonishing that diner boy could possibly get a boyfriend. But Brendon just ended up in Dallon's passenger seat anyway, laughing too because they didn't care about what everyone said when what existed belonged to them, only.

"You would think it'd get old by now," Brendon said with his mouth half full as Dallon sliced the apple in his hand at the counter. "I mean, it's been a year and a half, basically, since I came out at school. And it's like, oh my god, a real life gay person who's actually, visibly gay! No offense." Dallon shrugged, knew he wasn't as obvious as Brendon was sometimes. "Hey, why are we having fruit?"

"My mom doesn't like when I eat too much junk food at a time. It's a thing. I try to humor her. She doesn't know about the whole pizza we ate last night. Shhh." He put the knife to his lips and shushed him, making Brendon smile and return to the bowl of grapes that Dallon set out for him. "I wish I could be there every time someone says something mean to you. Not that you need me to defend your honor or anything, but, y'know, at least you'd have someone to have your back."

"Overprotective looks good on you, Dal." Brendon teased, sitting up on his knee to grab at his bottle of water. "No, no one was that mean today. I mean, a couple of whispers and whatever, but it's not a big deal. I've ended up in the hospital because of these people. Compared to that this is nothing."

"What?" Dallon stopped the motions of his hands but Brendon waved him off, shaking his head like it was nothing.

"A story for another time." He said just as Dallon's mother was letting herself into the apartment, keys jingling in the door. Dallon stared at Brendon and he looked away, smiling at the doorway of the kitchen when she made her way in. "Hi!" He singsonged, not exactly apologetic for having found a safe space in Dallon's home and ending up returning again and again. "How was work?"

"What are you doing home so early?" Dallon asked, cutting off another slice.

"Work was work. I came home early to make dinner because I've been working late every night and I hate leaving you alone. I'm glad you're keeping Dallon company, though, Brendon. He needs it." She chuckled to herself as she set her bag down on the table, stealing a grape from the bowl. "Dallon's friends tend to, y'know. Live here, whenever I'm not home. Not that I mind."

"Bren's my boyfriend, mom," Dallon said blatantly as he took a bite of his apple slice. She looked between them with eyes wide, Brendon smiling and Dallon quirking an eyebrow as if it wasn't a surprise.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" She berated, rushing to pull Brendon into a hug. Dallon shrugged, never one for advertising his most private business, however contradictory to the flaunting he and Brendon had done so playfully at their own expense.

"You didn't ask," Dallon returned, and his mother smacked his arm but smiled and pulled him into a hug too, having known his feelings for months.

"I'm so happy for you guys." She ruffled his hair and Dallon smiled, irritated, this was why he hadn't told her, but Brendon giggled too and then again, maybe it was nice that she approved. Or maybe it would be nicer if she approved from afar.

"Okay, mother, embarrassment, humiliation, mortified, all synonyms for please, stop."

"Fine." She rolled her eyes and acquired a water bottle from the fridge as Dallon watched dangerously, making sure she made herself scarce before she started taking photos just for fun. "Bren, stay for dinner, please. I'm expecting more details later."

"Thank you, I will. And you'll get it all out of Dallon, don't worry." Brendon grinned at her cheekily until she disappeared, still beaming despite Dallon's unenthusiasm. "You are so bitter sometimes." Brendon accused, twisting the top of his water bottle as Dallon quirked an eyebrow at him. "I love her."

"She makes me crazy sometimes." Dallon sighed, but not with bad intention, as he popped a slice of apple into his mouth and went to wrap an arm around Brendon's shoulder. "Sorry. She's just always on me about something and I didn't wanna make us a big deal. I wanted to be cool about this."

"Dallon Weekes? Cool? Nonsense." He waved a hand and Dallon tsked, smiling nonetheless. "So, I have bad news and good news," Brendon added, making him look up from his apple. "The good news is, y'know, I'm your boyfriend. So that's a plus."

"You sure?"

"Shhh." Brendon threw a grape at him and Dallon smiled, leaning against the counter again after retrieving it. "The bad news is that my mom told me that since you're my boyfriend you have to come over for dinner one night. Our first dinner as a family, which is so cliché because we've been dating for like, ten minutes, we're not married, but you know my mom."

"Yeah, I know your mom." Dallon shrugged, dropping the knife in the sink and reaching out to hand Brendon an apple slice. "I can do whenever. Tell her I'd be delighted."

"You're so sweet. She's gonna ask a lot of questions, though, you know. So you might wanna prepare yourself. Just saying." He grinned brightly anyway and the honeymoon phase always tagged along with dinner with the families. It was just principle. Part of the transition between friends and boyfriends.

"I can handle that," Dallon assured him, and Brendon knew he could. He just wasn’t sure if he could, himself.

Brendon's mother chose a day and Dallon confirmed it, working around Brendon like a messenger though he didn't even really want this to happen. His family could be overbearing, and it was just the beginning. He didn't want Dallon to be uncomfortable right off the bat. But Dallon promised he'd show up, dressed nicely like the perfect boyfriend, and he did, as Brendon lingered by the door for a good half an hour before Dallon rang the doorbell and he let him inside, nervous because he knew it was going to be awkward already.

"Hi." Brendon greeted, closing the door behind Dallon as he greeted him with a hello, holding two bouquets of flowers and smiling as if this wasn't his first dinner with his new boyfriend's family, though just the first dinner as boyfriends, because he knew the family. Which meant he knew how they'd be, and he knew what this all meant, too, a welcoming of some sort, or a baptism into the Urie family, perhaps, if they were so inclined to stitch him in so soon.

“Hi, comrade. These,” Dallon handed his boyfriend a bouquet awkwardly, cradling the other one in his arm, “are for you.”

Brendon’s eyes softened; he hadn’t been expecting a prince tonight. “You’re so sweet, Dal. And you kinda make me feel like a girl. Not a bad thing.” Brendon giggled, accepting the bouquet and holding it to his chest like his prized possession when Dallon smiled after him. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” Dallon kissed his forehead when Brendon gave him a one armed hug, holding the flowers in his other arm. When he invited Dallon he didn’t know he was going to go all out. He was half expecting him not to want to come at all, because Brendon’s family was a lot different than Dallon’s. They were interrogative, and they pried, and their lives were dedicated to embarrassing Brendon. Dallon never liked being under the spotlight, and this was like he was on stage with a million lights and an audience of fifty thousand, waiting with their cameras for him to mess up. “The other ones are for your mom, for having me over. And because I’m trying to suck up. Because I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be! She already likes you. And if she didn’t, she would learn to. I do.” Brendon reached up to cup Dallon’s face in his hand, smiling hopefully because Dallon generally wasn’t a nervous person, always having made himself aware of reality versus idealization, but Brendon’s family liking him was an ideal as this was something both of them had wanted for so long.

Dallon had seen all the cliché romance movies, read the novels too because he was kind of a sucker for love before he ever found it. He wanted this to work. There were so many reasons why it might not have.

“Okay, but if she tells you she hates me, then can you please break up with me in a very careful and sugarcoated way?”

“Stop, dork.” Brendon giggled, tugging on the collar of his button-up and dragging him toward the kitchen.

Brendon’s mother was moving around the kitchen trying to make everything perfect like she always did when Brendon led his boyfriend into the room, peeking over his flowers. Dallon smiled and Brendon’s mom rushed over to him, smiling brightly as she was trying to impress him just as much as he was trying to impress her. “Dallon!”

“Hi, Mrs. Urie, these are for you.” He handed her the larger bouquet as she kissed his cheek, acting so unlike herself because moms were always fake at first with their child’s boyfriends until they got to know them in that regard.

“Oh, Grace. And you shouldn’t have, Dallon, thank you.” She inhaled their scent and smiled at him pleasantly. “These are beautiful.”

“Well, I’m gay, I pick out nice flowers. It’s kind of a correct stereotype.” He shrugged as she went to put them in a vase, taking Brendon’s from his arms as well and smiling because he really was charming.

“It was very kind of you.” She said in sincerity, exchanging a cordial nod with him. “Sit, dinner’s ready, I’ll call for everyone.”

“Here, come sit with me.” Brendon took his arm and Dallon felt only slightly out of place as Brendon’s mother disappeared from the room. “If they ask you anything you aren’t comfortable with then don’t answer. They’re annoying and invasive all the time. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable.” Dallon placed a hand on his thigh under the table and Brendon found it with his own, tangling their fingers together. “Don’t worry. They’re gonna like me.”

“Of course they will,” Brendon agreed, but he just hoped they liked him for Brendon.

Everybody greeted Dallon as they took their usual seats and helped put dinner on the table, declining his offer to help because he was the guest and he had plenty of time before he got used to Urie dinners. He was silent as he played with Brendon's fingers under the table, nervous because he could fake confidence all he wanted but when it came down to it, he wasn't expecting to be interrogated so soon.

Brendon poked silently at his food as Dallon made small talk with his family, about what his mother did for work and his hobbies and how he was doing in school. He had pictured this dinner a hundred times but never this way, Dallon answering everything they asked with ease, maybe even having fun. Brendon knew his family. They weren’t supposed to make this fun.

“Is Brendon your first boyfriend, Dallon?” Kyla asked at some point while Brendon’s mother was refilling everyone’s glasses, acting as a hostess as she only did when there were guests, and Brendon snapped his head up.

“You don’t have to answer that.” He intervened, he swore he had lectured them on what not to say, and Dallon’s past was up there with things that were blacklisted because it was just a little too early to be discussing past affairs. But Dallon pat his knee and nodded, making Brendon pout back down at his lap like a child not getting their way.

“Yeah, he is. So forgive me if I seem new to this.”

“Considering the fact that you’re all he talks about, I’d say you’re doing alright,” Mason said and Brendon kicked at his leg under the table, they’d been dating ten minutes and there were some things he wasn’t ready for Dallon to know.

“Haha, okay, we get it, Brendon likes a boy, the gays are so cute. Can we talk about something else?” Brendon waved around his fork and his family sighed, but they all knew what this dinner was. Trying to see if Dallon was good to him. Good for him. Interrogating even the parts of his life that were supposed to be private.

“I don’t mind answering questions,” Dallon assured him, having come prepared because it wasn’t his first Urie family dinner. "Besides, I really like Brendon, so. I'm happy to get to know you guys too."

"Awe." Kara cooed, and Brendon would too if he wasn't so annoyed that Dallon was actually enjoying this.

Brendon's mother smiled too, satisfied in his response. "We like getting to know you too, Dallon." She waved a hand at him and he smiled, getting along so nicely with them that it was almost like he and Brendon had been together for years. And Brendon appreciated it, his ability to charm anybody as so, but he hadn't expected this. He expected a lot of fumbling and awkward responses and apologies, not Dallon laughing at his father's jokes and telling his mother that he loved the shade of eyeshadow she had on because apparently he noticed those kinds of things. He wasn't expecting Dallon to be so good at this.

Brendon stared down at his plate quietly while Dallon made conversation with his family, feeling oddly out of place because even Dallon knew how to talk to them easier than he did. He pushed carrots around on his plate, sometimes his parents made him eat vegetables just because they thought he needed it, and he felt like a child as he pushed his plate away and rested his chin in his hand.

"When did you get your nose pierced?"

"Um, the summer going into high school. I needed a change. I think every teenager has that phase, where they hate the way they look and want to change it. I had one that lasted for a while."

"Oh, Brendon had one of those. He tried to pierce his nose, too. I almost killed him." His mother added, smiling as if the memory was fond, though he remembered being confined to his room after she had given him a stern talking to, though at the time he wasn't so averse to being locked in his bedroom all day.

"We don't believe in freedom of expression in this house," Brendon lamented, and his mother shot him a look, and he forgot that tonight the Urie house was all about falsities.

"Brendon." She berated, and he shrugged, not bothering with an apology as she got up to collect everybody's plates. "Okay, I have dessert, too." She announced, and they had just finished dinner but she was doing that trying too hard thing again. Brendon and Dallon had been friends for months and it wasn't a big deal, he swore it wasn't, but company made her go crazy sometimes. Dallon just smiled politely because he thought it was endearing, but Brendon was going a little crazy himself. "Do you like cherry pie, Dallon?"

"Oh, I like all pie," Dallon said, absently rubbing a hand up and down Brendon's thigh, and she went to cut the pie she made herself— served at the diner on special occasions— as Brendon sat back in his seat and watched like he weren't inside of his body, this perfect family and a perfect outsider and him, never seeming to be good enough. Never actually fitting in.

She distributed the plates and they made conversation as they ate, about Dallon's mother and his art and whatever he could manage to ask them when they weren't talking his ear off. But he smiled, answering everything as Brendon managed not to scream because he didn't even ask Dallon this stuff, and he knew that it was a family's job, asking the questions he was scared to ask, but they should have asked him if it was okay first. He didn't feel prepared. He didn't feel at ease like he should.

Brendon stared down at his plate of half-eaten pie until the chatter died down and Dallon announced that he should probably get going, it was getting dark and he still had homework to do. Everybody exchanged goodbyes, sad to see him go, and Brendon swore they never got this upset when he left, but that was what Dallon did, made everybody fall for him. That wasn't Dallon's fault. He was just irresistible.

“What’s with the face, Urie?” Dallon took his hands and swung them back and forth once Brendon's family was out of earshot, practically dancing with him to the front room. Brendon raised his eyebrows, unaware that he was making a face, and Dallon added, “I mean, your angry little pout and not saying five words tonight. I can’t imagine you’re embarrassed of me...?”

“No, no. The opposite. You’re so charming.” He let out a half laugh to himself, drained and stressed because he hadn’t expected tonight to go like this. “I’m more embarrassed of me, actually.”

Dallon tsked, crouching down to pull on his shoes while Brendon rocked back and forth awkwardly on his heels. “What do you mean? This is your family, Bren. You don’t have to be embarrassed in front of them. Especially not because of me.”

Brendon sighed in frustration, couldn’t seem to find the words. It was silly, feeling insecure and pathetic and like his boyfriend pleased his family more than he ever could, but... “But you talk to them better than I do.”

“Isn’t it good that we get along?” Dallon asked, tying his shoe tighter and peeking up to catch the look of depletion on Brendon’s face. Brendon shrugged and Dallon stood up straight, reaching out to pull him into a hug. “Bren, what’s goin’ on? Don’t you want your family to like me?”

“Yeah, and I’m glad they do, but...” He hugged back tightly, exhaling in a long sigh. This was ridiculous. He couldn’t actually be upset right now. He couldn’t be jealous of Dallon. “It’s stupid.”

“Try me.”

Brendon pulled away to look at him, only half perplexed because he had expected Dallon to be understanding, anyway. “I just think it’s weird that you’re my first boyfriend and you get along so well with my family that it’s almost like they wish I was more like you. That wasn’t the intention. I just want them to trust you enough to take me out late enough and sleep over and whatever.”

“I think you’re looking too far into it,” Dallon admitted, resting a hand on his shoulder when he pulled away and pinching his chin just to get a smile out of him. “I practiced speaking in the mirror for an hour before I got here, Brendon. The only reason I don’t freak out and embarrass myself completely is because I’m a good actor. I really want this to work.”

“I do too, Dallon,” Brendon admitted, watching their hands and then blue eyes, shinier than they had been a minute ago, he swore.

“Then we should be happy that your parents like me,” Dallon exclaimed, looking on the bright side because to him, there was only a bright side. Brendon had always felt foreign in his own family. Out of place, fragmented, incomplete. Like he wasn't good enough to be a Urie. It just seemed now that Dallon was good enough to be a Urie, and, well, he didn't know where that left him. "Hey, come here." He hugged him again, and Brendon sighed, burying his face in his chest. "Don't take everything to heart. Everything's good right now. Be grateful that it is."

"Yeah, you're right." Brendon agreed, and he was, he was, he didn't need to worry about things that didn't matter. He inhaled slowly, the smell of Dallon, his deodorant and shampoo, and pulled away to look up at him. “Hey, you’re not acting with me, right?”

“Nah, you see right through me.” He winked and it made Brendon feel better, somehow, because maybe it was a good thing after all. There were a million things that could go wrong. It was good that they weren’t. “Hey, I gotta go, Urie.”

“Are you sure you can’t stay a little longer?” Brendon asked hopefully, taking his hands and swinging them once more.

Reluctantly Dallon shook his head and Brendon pouted up at him, hated having to return to real life when the honeymoon was over. “Yeah, I have homework to do and I don’t have it with me. But I’ll text you when I finish, and I’ll pick you up for school tomorrow. Have a good rest of your night.”

“You too, Dal.” He kissed his cheek and watched Dallon disappear down the stairs, leaving him lonely in the front room, hugging himself and wondering why everything Dallon did was so perfect.

* * *

Dally: hi how was your day I didn’t get to see you before you left for work

Bumblebee: fine I’m just really tired and work is so boring :( how was yours

Dally: same boring got a lotta homework but I wanted to talk to you cause I miss you and we've barely seen each other

Bumblebee: me too me too me too :( but I have to work again in like five minutes I’m on my break right now but I just want to nap and avoid all responsibilities single tear but I’ll drink a dr pepper in your honor

Dally: you’re a good boyfriend B Urie I adore ya :) but hey my mom just got home I’m gonna go say hi! have fun at work call me tonight whenever you can

Bumblebee: will do!! tell your mom I say hi

Dally: will do :)

Dallon set his phone down on the counter and greeted his mother with a smile when she entered the room, brown paper bags in her arms and keys in her hand. She set the groceries down on the island as she said hello, hanging her jacket on the chair, asking for help as usual because Dallon had to earn his keep somehow. He rolled his eyes but grinned down at his hands, anyway.

She watched as he pushed a box of macaroni into the cabinet, staring solemnly at her son, her baby, her miracle, and she felt horrible. But she had to be honest, she had to, she-

“Brendon says hi," Dallon said suddenly, turning to give her a smile. He'd been good lately. "How was work?”

“Tell him I say hello too. And it was good.” She watched him put the milk in the fridge warily, with blue eyes oscillating between her son and the motions of his hands. “Dallon.”

He didn’t spare a glance. “Yeah?”

“Can you stop that for a second? I need to talk to you.” Her tone made Dallon pause to look at her, confused, and she took a seat at the counter, nervous in the way she almost never was. He sat down too, trying not to look scared but failing because she always tried to talk to him on the same level, never one for lectures if he wasn't acting out. And he wasn't, he thought he had been doing well, and there was that time a week ago that he accidentally snapped but- “Look, Dals. I’ve been putting things into perspective lately, especially now that you’re happy, and I was thinking that it’s about time for me to get back out there.”

Dallon squinted at her. Get back out there? As in... “Like, dating?” She nodded, and he furrowed his eyebrows. “Why... why would you do that?”

“Because it’s been years, Dallon. I can’t be alone forever."

"You can't replace daddy."

"I know, and I'm not. I could never. But... my plan was never to see other men after your father, honey, but things change. Look at you, you’re growing up, you’ve got a boyfriend and you’re gonna be eighteen in a couple of months. You're gonna be an adult. And next year you have college, you'll be leaving home, building a life for yourself, and I think it would be an appropriate time for me to start dating again. See what’s out there for me. I know you don’t want me to, but I’m gonna set boundaries, I promise. We're a team.”

He picked at the skin around his nails, staring at her, counting the seconds of his breath. How could she? How could she stand here and talk to him about dating when he was finally happy? “Okay.”

“So, listen, Dals. If you’re uncomfortable with anybody I date, I want you to let me know, and I’ll do something about it. I want you to be okay with this, and I’ll accommodate to make you alright with any changes in our lives, but I don’t want you to think that you can’t talk to me." She reached out to take his hands. "First of all, baby, is this okay with you?”

No. “I guess so.”

“Good.” She smiled, and his insides felt heavier, all of a sudden. “I love you, Dal. I know it’ll be hard to see me with other men, but I need to do this. I need to move on."

This wasn't happening. He didn’t understand. “I understand.”

“I’m glad you do, baby. I'm glad." She pat his hand, grinning, and he sniffled, pretending not to be the liar he was a year ago. "Because I have a date tonight. And I won’t go if you don’t want me to, but I think it would be good for me to-“

He didn't want to hear any more. “No, you should go. I’ll be fine alone.” He interrupted, and he didn't mean it, he didn't, he wasn't okay alone. He hadn't been okay for years. She should have known that. She should have known.

“Thank you.” She stood up and walked around the island to pull him into a bone-crushing hug. “I love you, my boy, more than anything or anyone in the world.”

He tried to hold back tears, burning in his eyes and throat. Burying his face in her shoulder, he whispered, “I love you too, mommy.”

She pulled away and pressed a kiss to his forehead, pushing the sides of his hair back behind his ears like he was a kid again, innocent eyes and all. “I’ll leave you some money for food. Maybe you can have Brendon come over too, yeah?”

Dallon shook his head, swallowing thickly. He needed Brendon tonight. He needed his mother, too. “He’s working.”

“Well, then you can have a nice night alone.” She touched his cheek gently. "You deserve one. I'm gonna go shower, baby, but thank you. And thank you for putting the groceries away." She smiled before she disappeared down the hall.

And she had to see the heartbrokenness in his eyes. She had to, because she knew him. She knew Dallon. She was his mother.

He stared after her, wiping tears off of his cheeks like dirt. He couldn't lose her, too.


	14. Chapter 13: Violent Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, bookmark this so you can keep up with the updates! It will warm my little heart. <3

“Dallon?”

A finger prodded at his cheek and he blinked in confusion, having been staring off into space for half of the lunch period as everyone talked around him. He turned to look at his boyfriend, brown eyes inquisitive like they often were. But worried, still, because there was something about Dallon that Brendon just got.

He had been out of it all day, crying to himself all night until his mother got home, bringing him something from the Dillinger and telling him everything he didn't want to know. His name was Jack, he was a chiropractor, they’d met through a friend at work. Dallon smiled, told her he was happy for her, and then went to his room to punch his pillow, scream into it, stare at the wall and sulk. He’d even forgotten to call Brendon.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Everybody was staring at him when he looked up, his tray of school lunch untouched and probably cold as he'd left it almost half an hour ago. He had been sitting with his chin in the palm of his hand while they talked about their midterm grades, wondering why any of this even mattered anyway. Why would his mother choose now to start dating? Why did she have to wait until the start of what would hopefully be one of the best times of his life?

“Are you okay?” It was Brendon who asked the question, but everyone was looking at him worriedly like he was some mental patient that had checked himself out with a promise to his family that he wasn’t going to uphold. He wasn't. He swore. “You’ve barely eaten anything and you haven’t said a word all day.”

“Yeah, no, I’m just tired. Got no sleep.” He wrapped an arm around Brendon's back, smiling to keep up the facade though maybe he wasn't as good of an actor as he thought. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Okay.” Brendon watched him for a second before he turned back to his food, poking at it with his fork and then deciding that maybe he wasn't hungry anymore. He didn’t pay enough attention sometimes, Dallon guessed, but he didn’t care much today. If Brendon paid attention, then he'd know. Dallon didn't want him to know. Sometimes ignorance was bliss.

The bell rang and Dallon let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, getting up to throw his tray away. He didn't feel like talking, anyway. Everybody followed and Dallon sighed, watching the people in front of him turn into the hallway when Ryan grabbed at his arm, not bothering with gentleness because they knew each other well.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked in a whisper as they headed out of the cafeteria, eyeing Dallon suspiciously because he knew how he got.

"I'm fine, helicopter." Dallon elbowed him. He knew how he got too. That didn't mean he was the same as he was. "Really."

"Okay. I'm just making sure." Ryan shrugged, turning to walk a few steps ahead when Brendon caught up to them on the way to his astronomy class. Dallon appreciated it, he always did, even years ago when he ignored all the calls. But now was different. This was just an altercation. It didn't have to be life ruining. Not everything was.

“Dal, hey." Brendon reached out to loop his fingers around his wrist and Dallon turned, but regret it when he saw the brown of his eyes full of concern. “I know something’s going on, but you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. And if I did anything to make you mad at me, I’m really sorry, and-“

Dallon shook his head and pulled him aside, holding him close to the wall as people pushed by. “No, you didn’t do anything. I promise. It has nothing to do with you, it’s a personal thing. I’ll tell you later, we shouldn’t be late.” He gave him a kiss on the lips, the first in public, and Brendon stepped back toward his classroom, surprised and confused.

“Okay. I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yeah, you will.” Dallon extended a hand in a wave and then continued down the hall to his own class, fast-paced to get away because he didn't know how to talk to Brendon like this. Brendon watched his retreating back from the doorway, not understanding though in time he would.

After a few days Dallon had started to trick himself into thinking that everything was fine. So what his mom was going on a couple dates? People her age went on dates all the time. That didn’t mean it would be serious. No one was going to replace his father. Nothing would be that great. Nothing would ever be that great. There was no use in explaining to Brendon that he’d been acting strange because of this. He just shrugged it off, kept it to himself like he did everything else. Promised Brendon that he was fine when he asked.

But it wasn't nothing. It was real. It was more than a couple dates. It was her walking in on Dallon having a romantic night with a bag of Cheetos, not even bothering to lecture him like she always did, and telling him that Jack was her boyfriend. A label. One that made him want to vomit.

On Friday night he stared at this man from across the table, a man who wasn't his father, and introduced himself, said hi, I'm Dallon, and tried not to cry, because he asked about his art, and his boyfriend, and his friends, and this man knew everything. His mother told him everything.

Rain pounded against the windshield and tears slid down his cheeks under the streetlights. Boulder City didn't rain often but when it did it poured, and he sat in silence because no one on the radio got him. And across town was his Brendon, the Brendon that always made him feel better, the Brendon that he needed.

He pulled into the lot behind the diner, for the family but Brendon said he could park there anytime, and jogged through the rain until he reached the front door. Raindrops slid down the glass and a man held the door open for him. People were beginning to trickle out, the diner always closed late on Fridays, and Brendon's brother was cleaning tables under the dim lights when he let himself in.

“Dallon! What brings you here so late? I was just about to lock up.” Brendon’s father greeted from behind the counter, wiping it with a rag as the last of the customers disappeared.

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. I just wanted to see Brendon. Is he home?” He crossed his fingers behind his back, prayed he was home, he usually was, but Dallon needed him tonight. He needed someone who cared about him. He hadn't been feeling very loved lately.

“Yep, he’s up in his room.” Thank God. Dallon smiled weakly, thanked him, and headed upstairs where Brendon was behind a closed door.

He forgot common courtesy and opened Brendon’s bedroom door without knocking, revealing an upbeat boy singing along to something through his headphones as he scrolled through his feed on his laptop. Dallon closed the door behind him and waved half-heartedly in Brendon's peripheral vision, making him jump when he caught sight of him. But he smiled apologetically, guilty for making a scene, and Brendon pulled his headphones off with a sigh.

“Fucking Christ, Dallon, you scared the shit out of me.” He huffed, setting the headphones on the bed beside him and pushing his laptop aside, not having expected him.

“Sorry,” Dallon muttered, but he moved into the room nonetheless, wiping his face until Brendon startled. He knew there was something more going on, he was learning to read Dallon well these days. He climbed out of bed to pull him into a hug.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

Dallon shook his head and Brendon burrowed into him. “My mom has a boyfriend.” Dallon whispered, voice choked up, as Brendon's hair stuck to his tear-stained cheeks.

Brendon pulled away to look at him, not knowing what to say because he could see it in Dallon's eyes. The resentment. The fear. “Oh, shit.”

Dallon dropped his arms from around Brendon's shoulders and started to pace as Brendon sat down on the edge of his bed, carding a hand through his hair. “That’s why I’ve been acting weird lately. She told me she was gonna start dating and now she's seeing this guy, and he knows everything, Brendon, about my dad and you, and... it's not fair. I don't want him to know anything about me. He knows stuff you don't even know. He doesn't get the right."

“I’m so sorry. This sucks.” Brendon apologized dumbly because he wasn't so good at this, trying to comfort someone whose problems he knew almost nothing about. But Dallon just needed someone to listen, to hear him, to care about him, because sometimes he felt like no one did. His mother tried, but she missed it every once in a while, thought he was stronger than he actually was. He didn't know how to tell her he wasn't. “Sleep over tonight?”

“Yes. Please. I need to get away from that house.” He threaded his fingers through his hair and pulled, reminiscent of a boy he used to be. A boy who didn't know what to do, or who to be, or how to handle this. He still didn't though he was good at hiding it now, from people who hadn't been there, from people who shouldn't know.

“I wish I could help, but I don’t know what to say. Do you need me to do anything?” Brendon watched him pace the room with oscillating eyes, trying to remember how people had comforted him once upon a time though Dallon was a lot different than he was. Dallon shook his head, he'd had a good few years of needing comfort and no one knowing how. It wasn't anything he wasn't used to.

“No." He sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "No, there’s nothing you can do. It's not your fault. I don’t even know why I came here. I just wanna talk and cry but I can’t cry, it’s way too early for me to be crying in front of you, and I-“

Brendon shook his head, reaching out to grab his wrist. "No, hey. You can cry in front of me, Dal. I've seen you cry." Dallon turned to look at him suddenly, eyebrows furrowed, and Brendon added, "Christmas. And in the school bathroom, that one time. Freshman year."

"Fuck." Dallon breathed, sitting down beside him to pull him into a hug like he had wanted to that day, when Brendon caught him unexpectedly. "I forgot about that. I, um. I got in this really bad fight with Ryan. We didn't talk for a month, and then he told me he missed me, and I told him that I didn't want to be friends with him anymore. I saw him that day for the first time in a while, and I cried in the bathroom."

"And I didn't judge you then. I'm not judging you now." Brendon promised, rubbing his arm calmly and not asking questions though he wanted to, like he wanted to then. But he just handed him a paper towel and Dallon thanked him, and now he just held Dallon and Dallon didn't thank him but he knew he was grateful anyway. "I'm not gonna think less of you because you cry. I'm not someone to want to salvage the fragile male ego in front of."

Dallon exhaled in a sigh, twisting their fingers together and looking down at them like it were a miracle, somehow. "I'm glad that out of everyone who could have seen me crying in the bathroom that day, it was you."

"It's because we were meant to find each other." Brendon reminded him, and that felt like the honest truth, now, not that it hadn't back then. But the time wasn't right. Dallon still had to get some things straight, Brendon was too shy to ask. And now... "Stay. We can get food that's really bad for us and we can talk. Talking will be nice."

Dallon rested a head on his shoulder, inhaling the scent of strawberry body wash because Brendon was partial to it and learning to realize that just because some things were bad not all things were. "If I'm not in the way."

"You're not in the way," Brendon promised, brushing fingers through his hair reminiscent of the way his mother would once do to him, calming him down after he had awoken from another nightmare. Dallon wasn't often one to have nightmares, found meaning in everything even when he did, but sometimes he forgot that his nightmares had their feet set in reality. "Are you okay?"

Dallon closed his eyes, and he didn't know how to tell him that the two had very different versions of okay. "I'm okay."

"Okay." Brendon pulled away to give him an innocent kiss on the forehead. "I'm gonna go make sure it's okay for you to sleep over tonight. We haven't since we started dating, and you know how my mom is." He pulled away slowly, not wanting to leave him, but Dallon nodded and Brendon barely touched his cheek before he disappeared into the hallway, down the stairs to find his mother.

In the kitchen, Brendon's mom was making tea at the counter when her youngest crossed the floor. He had this internal joke that she loved cooking so much that she spent every waking second in the kitchen, making food or baking or this, making tea, it was like her paradise, or something. Brendon never really got that, finding catharsis through work, but maybe it was the same as art, creation, something he couldn't find understanding in, either.

"You just left work. You don't always have to be in the kitchen, you know." Brendon said quietly, slipping into a seat at the table.

"Oh, but I do." She quirked an eyebrow and he tried to smile. "What's going on, ipo?"

"No, nothing, I just... can Dallon stay over tonight? I'll keep the doors open and everything. He's just going through some family stuff, and he doesn't really wanna be home tonight." He tugged at the drawstring of his hoodie awkwardly and she looked him over, for a motivation, maybe, but there wasn't any.

"Sure. Is he okay?"

He nodded, at least he hoped, Dallon was hard to read sometimes. Brendon had never been good at understanding people but he was trying, people didn't always try with Dallon. He wanted to be somebody who did. Maybe the first one. "Yeah, no, he's okay. Or, I don't know. Maybe." He sighed, realizing maybe he just didn't get it. "I have no idea. His mom started dating again. His dad has only been gone a few years. And she has the right to date, and he knew it had to have happened sometime, but he just. He met the guy. And he's freaking out because he doesn't want his mom to replace his dad."

"Oh, honey." She sighed, taking a seat at the table with him and patting the top of his hand. "I get that. When my parents divorced, I was scared of the same thing. I tried to parent trap them."

Brendon smiled, remembering the movie from his childhood that he had watched once upon a time with his siblings, as he got up to make popcorn for he and Dallon to share before he'd inevitably order a pizza at midnight, something his parents never really knew about though he managed to pull it off quite a few times. "I'm sure he would if he could. Not that he'd have to. His parents had a really good relationship."

"I bet they did." She sighed, playing with her wedding ring as he popped the bag into the microwave. "I don't think he should run away from his problems, though. He should talk to his mother about it. It may not end well if he doesn't."

"Normally I'd say the same thing, but Dallon's very persistent. He's not idealistic, either, so I think it's hard for him to be in denial about something so real. I don't think that's the case. I think that he might just be, like, avoiding it. For now. I think he's good at avoiding things he doesn't want to talk about." He went to grab a bowl from the cabinet. "So, I guess you're right." He added as a second thought. "He's running from his problems. But I'm not gonna be the one to tell him that. I don't think we're in the realistic advice stage of our relationship yet."

He bounced up on his toes playfully and she beamed back at him, pleased at who he had become. Sensible, opening up about his feelings, taking care of somebody when a few years ago he couldn't find how to take care of himself. "I'm proud of you, Bren." She said, and he smiled as she got up to kiss the top of his head. "Dallon can stay as long as he needs to. But just some advice: tell him the truth. It'll be better for you guys in the long run."

"Okay." Brendon agreed, and she chuckled to herself like he wasn't in on the joke as she left the room, leaving him alone in the dim light. He hoped one day he'd know everything, what and what not to say, but he turned to peek into the microwave, and he swore he was trying.

Dallon was laying in his bed when he returned to his room, bundled up under the covers and peeking out innocently. Brendon shook the bowl of popcorn and Dallon glanced up at him, the rattle of kernels at the bottom catching his attention. "Tease." Dallon peeped, and Brendon shut the door almost all the way.

Smiling sinuously, he extended the bowl to his boyfriend. "Want some?"

"Later." Dallon burrowed further into Brendon's pillow, voice calm though he could hardly hide the tremor. "I wanna cuddle first. If that's okay."

“That’s fine.” Brendon climbed in beside him, setting the popcorn down on his side table. It could wait, anyway. There were tears in Dallon's eyes when Brendon looked hard enough to see, and he folded his arms but leaned in slowly, not knowing what to say but not having to say anything. "C'mere." He whispered, on the edge of wanting to comfort and not knowing how, and Dallon reached out for him, not as hesitant as Brendon was for a moment while they slipped into comfortable silence.

Nuzzling his head in the junction of Dallon’s shoulder, Brendon tugged the duvet up over them and ran a gentle hand up his side. Dallon arched into the touch, seeming to barely recognize it because he was quiet, painfully quiet, as Brendon listened to him breathe, quiet and distinct against him. It was soft, like nothing was wrong, like this serenity was all there was. And there was and it wasn't, but Dallon closed his eyes and pretended.

"I don't get it." He whispered suddenly, burying his face in the hair behind Brendon's ear.

Brendon tugged at a fold in Dallon's sweater, watched the way the fabric moved under his fingers. “Get what?” He asked quietly, smoothing out the crease.

Dallon shrugged half-heartedly and Brendon could feel his breath on his skin. "Relationships. Love. It's just... it’s confusing and I don’t get it.”

Brendon smacked his arm, scoffing only half playfully because he didn't quite get it, either. “What a thing to say to your boyfriend.”

Dallon rolled onto his back and pulled a hand up, resting his wrist against his forehead in exasperation. “You know what I mean. We don’t count. We’re teenagers. We get a pass. We get to make mistakes and act like children and be stupid and flirt because that's what teenagers do. We’re not adults. I don’t have a kid and a dead husband.” Brendon looked up at him with wide eyes but Dallon’s slipped shut before they could meet them. “I just... I know it’s supposed to be great and all. I know. And I grew up idolizing my parents and their love. I know it's real. I know that it's supposed to be this big, beautiful thing. But I don't wanna love someone if it's gonna hurt someone. Because what's the cost of love if it's gonna hurt someone? I mean, I'm not saying I don't want her to be happy, because of course I do, but... it's at the expense of my feelings. And I don't want to make it all about me but it's my family."

"No, I get it." Brendon reached up carefully, carefully, and brushed his fingertips against Dallon's jawline. "I don't think it's narcissistic of you to want your family to stay the same. I think I would do the same thing too." Nodding, Dallon placed a hand over Brendon's, both cupping his cheek with childlike innocence. "Why do you think it's so confusing? Love, I mean."

Dallon shrugged and looked back up at the ceiling, at the dinosaur holding a cake, and Brendon pulled his hand away. “Love is a violent thing, Brendon." He said with a sigh, and something in his voice made Brendon wonder if he knew more than he thought. "I don't... know how to love someone. I mean, I've fallen in love before. One day I'll tell you about it. One day. Not now. But..." He shook his head thoughtfully. "I've never had someone be in love with me. That's what I don't understand. Loving somebody and having them love you back. I think that must be one of the most beautiful things in the world. It will be, when it happens. But there are... so many bad things, too. Jealousy. Envy. Whatever. Because when you're talking about love, you talk about the good things. The butterflies and the way you feel weak when you think of them. But I don't think that enough attention is paid to the bad things. It's important to know that too. That there's heartbreak. And lying and jealously and hard decisions. And that sometimes you're hurting people. Because love is made up of violent things."

Brendon watched him closely for a second until Dallon looked back at him, with this honesty glistening in his eye that Brendon hadn't seen before. That he'd been through something. A few weeks ago Dallon sat with Brendon under a lamp post in the park, holding his hands, telling him that his favorite thing about him was his desire to figure out the world. And while Dallon was thinking about all that was wrong and looking in every nook and cranny to detect faulty power lines and ripples in the fabric of what was supposed to be, Brendon still knew nothing at all, and wanted to know everything.

He nodded slowly, taking it all in, and he swore one day he'd know everything.

"You don't strike me as a jealous person," Brendon said quietly, poking at the scar on his chin like a fascinated child. "But you have nothing to worry about. Cause I don't talk to other boys. I don't even talk to any boys. Or girls, for that matter. I don't talk to people. So you don't have to worry."

"I'm not worried. And you don't have anything to worry about either, Bren. The past is in the past for a reason." Dallon assured him, and Brendon tried to take that to heart, because for a while he hadn't known what to expect, overthinking about Dallon's life and the things he didn't know. "I mean it."

"Good. Because I don't like all that. The games." They exchanged solemn eyes, and it seemed so easy to fall into, worrying about each other, trying to find some balance, but Brendon didn't want to run around in circles, and Dallon didn't want to chase someone who didn't want to be caught. "I mean, I think maybe people think it adds to the thrill. And to each their own, I guess, But I don't know. I don't think I want that."

"I don't either. I don't wanna be jealous of everybody who talks to you. I don't wanna resent you. I wanna fall in love with you and be comfortable and secure and feel safe and guarded but still have that— that newness. What we have now. And I know that with something like this there are gonna be a lot of emotions but I want the ones that count for something, you know? I wanna fall madly in love with you. I want a healthy relationship. I want us to respect each other, and to tell each other things, and to be our own people because we shouldn't rely on each other. I have a lot of expectations for this, Bren. I want this."

Brendon blinked up at him, and Dallon’s eyelashes fluttered. He had read about this, seen it on TV, dreamt about it for years because he was raised a dreamer. But he never knew how intense it could be until he wasn't expecting it. “I do too.” He whispered, and the words felt pure on his lips.

Dallon linked his pinky with one of Brendon's, leaning over to press his forehead against his. Brendon closed his eyes when he tightened the extremity around Dallon's, and Dallon whispered a raw, honest, “I wanna fall crazy in love with you. And I’m going to fall in love with you.”

Brendon opened his eyes, shocked because he should have expected it but he hadn't. For years he'd been watching Dallon across crowded rooms, sharing awkward smiles around school because they kept colliding but somehow never built up the courage to be friends. Timing was a funny thing, because a year ago Brendon was too scared and Dallon wasn't good at being a friend and it never would have worked. Now, now it made sense.

"I am too," Brendon admitted, because he didn't want to be scared about this. Dallon nodded, breathing slow, as Brendon could feel it on his lips and they tasted like saltwater tears when he kissed him. Dallon kissed him back, sniffling, and Brendon reached up to touch his face. It wasn't in a school bathroom, and it wasn't his friends breaking his heart this time, but it was reminiscent of a Dallon that Brendon didn't know, though he wished on a star for him once because strangers were only strangers until they weren't. "My mom told me to tell you the truth. So I think you should talk to your mom about how you feel. Because in the long run, I think that would be better than hiding from it."

Dallon nodded again, and Brendon smiled hopefully because he was expecting a no, probably too early in the relationship to be telling him what was best for him. "I will. I don't know how, but I will. I promise." He crossed his heart, and that counted for something. "Can we have that popcorn now?"

Dallon sat up, and Brendon giggled as he wiped his cheeks off and reached out for the bowl on his side table. Dallon could put off falling in love because he didn't want to risk it. He could be like Brendon and hide from his feelings because he was scared to admit the potential for failure. He could ignore all the bad things, focus on the good, but Dallon Weekes was a realist, and he had a feeling Brendon was worth it.

Brendon woke up on Saturday morning to a body pressed against his back and an arm wrapped around him. He smiled to himself, had almost forgotten in sleepy somnolence that Dallon slept over and didn't feel confined to one side of the bed anymore. So many times he'd laid awake with Dallon asleep beside him thinking about moving just a little closer, just to feel his breath on his neck. And he could, and as he reached up to touch Dallon's hand aimlessly Dallon sighed in his sleep.

He tangled their fingers together languidly, smiling against his pillow when Dallon squeezed his hand subconsciously and then not so much, stirring in his sleep and letting out this tired mewl as he curled into him like a kitten. Brendon giggled, and Dallon muttered, "Morning."

"Morning," Brendon whispered, playing with his fingers.

"Your hair is in my mouth."

"Your mouth is in my hair," Brendon retorted.

"Shut up. C'mere." Dallon pressed a kiss to his jawline, making him tilt his chin up and giggle, unused to the attention and surprised. Brendon rolled onto his back, beaming up at him as sun filtered into his room through slated blinds. “I’ve been waiting for months to tell you this, but you’re so cute when you wake up. Look at you.”

Dallon pushed hair off of Brendon's forehead and Brendon giggled, reaching up to poke at his cheek like an amused child because sometimes he just wanted to check if this was real. "You are too. I like waking up to you. I like you."

"That's so gay, Brendon," Dallon whispered, setting a hand on the top of his head, and Brendon burst out laughing but nodded, happy without an explanation, because months ago he wondered what this would be like and there was nothing like realizing you were getting everything you ever wanted.

"I know, right?" He agreed, and as if it were innate, wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and ran his fingers through short hair. "So, I had this dream that we weren't together and I was still pining. And we were walking together and it started raining, and we were walking toward this lighthouse or something, which was weird because it was in the middle of the road, and like, it was pouring rain and it was dark but when there was lightning, I could see this rainbow. Whatcha think it means?"

"It's some sort of sign that we made it past all the stuff that life threw at us so we could be together. With gay symbolism. Duh."

"You're probably right." Brendon laughed quietly, and it made sense. The rainbow after the storm, a tale as old as time. “Hey, I'm hungry. D’you wanna have breakfast at the diner?”

“Yeah. Please.” Dallon sat up and climbed out of bed, almost tripping over the blankets but catching himself before he did. Brendon sat up, crossing his legs, watching Dallon search for his glasses before he realized he showed up without them. He was a mess in the mornings, still tired and overthinking and anxious, but Brendon watched him anyway, happier than he had been in a long time.

“You don’t have to go home today if you don’t wanna," Brendon said softly, and Dallon turned to look at him, almost illuminated by the glow of the morning sunlight. "As long as you make sure it’s okay with your mom, you can spend the night again, I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind. I like having you around and I know things are hard right now.”

Dallon’s eyes softened and he nodded, reaching out a hand to cup his jaw. "Thank you, Brendon." He said sincerely, and Brendon didn't get what it was like to feel estranged from his mother but he knew what it was like to be the outsider of his family. "Seriously."

"Hey, what are boyfriends for?" He asked, sitting up on his knees and wrapping his arms around his neck because he wasn't so good at serious. But the sentiment was there, and Dallon kissed him because he didn't know what else to say.

They spent all day together, baking cookies with Brendon's mom and watching a movie with his family because Dallon didn't feel welcomed in his own right now. The sun set as they sat around the table in the kitchen, and Brendon watched Dallon laugh at his dad's stupid jokes and the story Kyla was telling, and it just kind of made sense.

Brendon toed at Dallon's foot with his own playfully as they sat across from each other in Brendon's bed in the dark, telling each other all about their stupid little quirks in hushed whispers and muted laughs. Brendon told him how he took hour long showers, just because he liked the alone time, and how he talked too much when he was anxious, and never wore contacts because they scared him.

And Dallon talked about his nervous ticks, how he played with the ring on his finger, and tapped the tune to his favorite song on the desk at school when he was worried about a test. Told Brendon that when he was home alone and walking through the house in the dark, he would sing so that if anything was lurking in the dark, he would scare it away. That he said hello to every animal he passed by like a child, and he liked to put on imaginary concerts in the shower, how he made up stories about everything and could only sit on the inside left of a booth and how he used to be scolded in school for playing with his hair too much in class.

Brendon had picked up on these little things he did, like playing with his nose ring when he was embarrassed, because he blocked the blush on his cheeks as he told Brendon about his childhood. They had been friends for a while, but Brendon liked getting to know him in ways that he hadn't before.

As he ran his fingers gently through Dallon's hair as he fell asleep curled up into his side, he wondered how this boy could hurt.

* * *

“Brendon!” Tyler caught Brendon’s arm as he made his way to their physics class on Monday morning, startling him as he parted from Dallon after history had ended, having gotten used to being in each other's presence after spending the entire weekend together. “Hey, hoe! Are you busy tomorrow?”

Brendon checked his mental calendar. Tuesday? “Um, school.”

“Tomorrow night, Brendon.” Tyler smacked his arm and feigned innocence when Brendon glared, making his way across the room.

“Nothing. No work. Why? Got any interesting offers?” He set his bag down on his desk and Tyler followed him, still persistent.

“I do, actually. So Josh took me to this really cute restaurant last weekend and we were talking, and he said that Dallon's been weird because of some family drama and they haven't seen each other much, and I've barely seen you, and we decided that you and Dallon should come with us. We need to get to know each other.”

“I’ve known you for a pretty long time." He pointed out dumbly. "I think we’re past that.”

“No, Bren.” Tyler sighed, smacking his arm again, and Brendon wondered if maybe he should get some sort of shield. “Like, as a couple. Me and Josh are different than me and you, as are you and Dallon. You have to know this stuff, tiny.”

Brendon shifted his weight, not really understanding this whole relationship thing. He thought that they were the same people as they were before. “What are you talking about, Ty?”

Tyler sighed again and Brendon folded his arms, confused though he never really knew what Tyler was talking about. “Just come out with Josh and me, okay? My treat.”

Brendon shrugged and slid into his assigned seat when their teacher walked in. “Like a double date?”

“Exactly!” Tyler flashed him an irresistible grin and waved his pencil at him. “Ask Dallon, make sure it’s okay with him, and then we’ll make a plan.”

“Okay.” Brendon agreed; maybe it would be fun. Dallon was feeling estranged from everything and Brendon could use a night out, anyway. Dallon would like to get out of the house, Brendon could only have him over for so long until eight people became too many, and anyway, these were their friends. And they couldn't turn down a free meal.

Dallon was heading to his next class when Brendon caught up with him in the hallway, reaching out to grab at his arm but stopping himself when he noticed he was texting somebody. He waited until the right moment before he grabbed his elbow, and Dallon startled, and Brendon should probably work on his greetings, but he grinned up at him anyway. "Hi, boyfriend."

"Hi, boyfriend. Whatcha doin' tomorrow night?" Brendon put a hand on his arm and Dallon moved them closer to the wall, avoiding the sea of students leading them to the opposite side of the school.

"Um, having you do my homework?"

"Nice try." Brendon punched his shoulder. "No, Tyler invited us to go on a double date at some restaurant they went to because Josh thinks you need to get out of the house and I guess so do I, or whatever. And Tyler thinks that since you and I are dating, we all have to get to know each other as couples. I didn't really understand that logic, but, well. Would you wanna go?"

Dallon shifted his weight underneath the strap of his bag and slid his phone into the front pocket of his jeans. “I guess so, if you wanna.”

Brendon watched him for a second, not having reacted the way he had hoped, and he thought that maybe this could be good for Dallon. Did he say something wrong? He wasn’t good at this whole dating thing yet. “Unless you don’t want to go." He added reluctantly. "I can tell him no.”

“No, Bren, it’s okay. I’m just awkward in social situations. Especially when I get like this. But... I'll go. It could be fun.” He complied. For weeks he'd been too caught up in his own drama. He wanted to get out, anyway. Make up for his mistakes.

“Are you sure?" Brendon asked, overly paranoid though without reason. "I feel like we’ve been spending a lot of time together these past few days, aren’t you sick of me? I can leave you alone.”

Dallon shook his head, reaching down to tangle their fingers together though they never did in public. Brendon was always worried about something or other, about being in the way or making a scene or getting attention from his peers. About the potential for failure and the fear of success. Brendon looked up at him, gnawing on his bottom lip. He never had to worry but that didn't mean he wouldn't.

“You’re my boyfriend, Brendon. I swear, most of the time, you’re the only person I can tolerate. And I guess if it gets me out of the house and gets me more time with you, then I’m down. Just tell me when and if I’m picking you up and have the address ready, okay?”

“Yeah. Deal.” Brendon shook his hand, and he forced a smile.

* * *

Dallon's state of anxiety hadn't seemed to simmer down and fizz out since his mother had announced her news, as he'd always had trouble controlling it. But Brendon was smiling when Dallon pulled up in front of the diner, and then again maybe it was worth it.

“Hi, cutie.” Brendon climbed into the car, the heat on high though it was nice outside, and Dallon leaned over the middle console to kiss his cheek as he slammed the door shut behind him. "How are you?"

"Um, I'm fine," Dallon decided on, because anxious and tired weren't too assuring. Casting a glance at the boy clad in dark shades and a forest green scarf with semi-sympathetic undertones, he added, “you look cute.”

“Thanks! Kyla dressed me. I shouldn’t tell you that.” Brendon giggled at his own response, and Dallon let out a laugh while he reached over to tangle their fingers together on top of Brendon’s jean covered thigh. “You look nice too. I know you didn’t even wanna go, but I’m really thankful that you’re making an effort. It’s sweet of you. So thank you. Seriously.”

Dallon sighed, he didn't want Brendon to ever think that he was reluctant to spend time with him. It wasn't that at all. It was just that it was too much sometimes, and he didn't know how to explain that to someone like Brendon, because there were things they didn't know about each other yet. Things he didn't know how to tell him. "Look, Bren, it's not that I don't wanna go, it's just that like... I'm in a weird place right now and I don't wanna pull you into it." He admitted. "I don't want everyone to worry about me. But it doesn't matter, you know? Getting out will be good for me. I've barely left the house except for being at yours, and I don't wanna be home tonight."

"If you're sure," Brendon said hesitantly, scratching Dallon's thumb with his nail. "I mean, we can stay at my house. And you can stay over, and we can order in and I'll pay for it. We don't have to do this if you don't wanna."

"It's okay, Bren, really," Dallon insisted.

"Okay, if you're sure. I just, I feel like since we've gotten together I haven't been paying that much attention to Tyler, and I feel like a bad friend, and I feel like a bad boyfriend for not being able to help you, and I mean, maybe we'll have fun. And I'm hungry."

"Hey, look. It's not your job to help me." He assured him. People had tried that and it wasn't that easy. "Let's just have fun tonight, okay? Besides, I'm glad you're choosing the date this time."

"Aha, don't get used to it. This is almost too average." Brendon leaned back against his seat, grinning up at Dallon as Dallon tried to grin back.

Josh and Tyler had already claimed a booth when Brendon and Dallon arrived at the red and green illuminated restaurant, holding hands maybe a little tighter than usual because this was out of both of their comfort zones. But Brendon recognized the place, this cowboy themed restaurant he'd gone to as a child, with colored Christmas lights strung up and a childlike atmosphere.

“Hi!” Brendon greeted cheerfully when Tyler stood up to greet him. “Dude, I love this place. I used to come here all the time when I was little.” He enveloped Tyler in a hug and Dallon stood by awkwardly, waiting for him to choose where he wanted to sit though he knew where Dallon preferred.

“Good, so you already like it. Introducing people to new restaurants stresses me out,” Tyler squeezed his shoulders and added in a whisper, “you guys look fucking adorable, I love you both.”

“So do you. I’m glad we’re doing this.” He pulled away and offered the inside seat to Dallon, patting his side and grinning when Dallon looked down at him. It was only a night, after all, and Brendon touched his thigh under the table and Dallon leaned over to press an absent kiss to his temple.

“Is that... is that Dallon?” Josh pointed to him across the table, and Brendon smiled to himself as he grabbed a piece of bread from the basket in the center of the table.

“Yeah. Josh, right?” Dallon reached out a hand and Josh shook it, concealing smiles with their strange humor.

“Yeah! Hey, man!” Josh laughed, and Dallon grinned back, settling in his seat and pulling his red jacket off to tuck between him and the wall. “Do you guys know what you want?”

“God, Josh, let me look at the menu first.” Dallon kicked his leg underneath the table, raising his eyebrows comically and wiggling them when Brendon smiled up at him, watching too closely to make sure he was having a good time because that was why he was doing all this, anyway. After everything he needed a win.

Brendon picked at the corner of the peeling laminated menu, and he kicked aimlessly at Tyler's feet under the table as his eyes wandered to the dessert section longingly. Dallon was saying something to Josh as Brendon read over everything once, twice, three times, feeling pickier than usual, and all of a sudden he gasped, catching the attention of his friends and a few people at the tables nearby.

"When I was little I used to come here with my family and we would do this ice cream eating contest thing. You get this giant ass sundae the size of like, a baby bear, and you have half an hour for the whole table to finish eating it. And there's like, five different flavors, and a billion toppings, and if you finish it in the half hour it's free and you get your picture on the wall. We should do it. Can we do it?" He begged with childlike innocence, this innocence that everybody fell for because big brown eyes were somehow bigger under the Christmas lights. Dallon smiled, leaning over to peak at the menu when Brendon pointed excitedly.

"That could be fun," Dallon said, exchanging a look with Josh before he slid the menu across the table to show them. Brendon grinned, and Dallon added, "I didn't really want real food, anyway."

"Yay." Brendon clapped, maybe too excited about too much sugar, and a few people looked over again but he was too happy to notice.

"Should we?" Josh asked, and Tyler made grabby hands at the menu. Dallon looked up at him for a second and without missing a beat he nodded, though Brendon caught the transient frown. "Okay then, sure, I'm on board."

"Hell yeah." Brendon kicked at Dallon's foot under the table this time, making him smile. He would be right about tonight. He knew it.

The waitress approached their table and Tyler ordered the pig's trough for the table. Brendon stuttered while he was saying the words Diet Coke, and Dallon pat his thigh under the table reassuringly though he was in too good of a mood to mind. He learned a little about himself, that maybe he wasn't that great of a conversationalist, but he sat and listened to his company, smiling at their stories and managing to feel like he fit in for once.

Josh distributed the spoons as the waitress set the pig's trough down on the table, scoops of ice cream stacked up on top of each other with whipped cream and toppings sprinkled all over it. She set a timer and Brendon reminded himself it wasn't about the competition, but getting up on that wall would be pretty cool, it was just about having fun, and he already was. Dallon was laughing as he poked at the ice cream with his spoon, he didn't even know where to start, and Brendon knew this would make him feel better.

Swallowing a mouthful of whatever he could fit into his mouth, Brendon said, "I forgot how big this thing is."

"Please, I could eat like, ten of these," Tyler added, swirling his spoonful of strawberry ice cream around before he shoveled it into his mouth.

"Good, because I probably can't." Dallon bumped his spoon against Brendon's. "My mom is gonna kill me. I'm pretty sure I'm gonna die of like, too much ice cream intake after this-"

"But it's worth it." Josh interrupted cheekily, and then again, maybe it was. Dallon nodded in agreement, he'd been good lately anyway, and what Leann didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

The timer ticked while they made conversation and mostly ate, devouring the pile of ice cream and laughing over nothing because Brendon definitely had chocolate sauce all over himself, and he got some on his shirt, not a permanent stain though it was in the shape of a bear and it just made him laugh harder. For the first time in a long time he didn't care what he looked like out in public, if everyone was watching him or judging him or had something to say because he was happy.

It had been a long few weeks of family drama and a weird transition between best friends and boyfriends, awkward exchanges and trying to figure out how to manage them. Brendon leaned back in his seat, beaming up at Dallon because even when he was destroying a huge bowl of ice cream, he was gorgeous, and he didn't know a lot of things but he knew that this was what he needed.

There was barely anything left when the timer hit five minutes, just a melted mess of five different flavors and whipped cream that Brendon was still poking at regardless. "I don't think anyone needs this much ice cream," Dallon said, biting aimlessly at his spoon, and Brendon nodded in agreement, though he wasn't one to talk because he did this all the time.

"I do," Tyler refuted, sticking up his spoon like he was declaring a revolution. "Come on, you guys. There's like, nothing left. I want my fucking picture on the wall. Everybody who comes here needs to see how cute and capable I am."

Brendon snorted. "Capable of what?"

"Of eating like, ten pounds of ice cream in such a short amount of time! It's a skill! I can put this on my resume!"

"Technically we all did that together, so it wasn't exactly ten pounds of ice cream, or whatever it is. Just a portion of it," Dallon figured, but Tyler wasn't interested in the logistics.

"Either way, I will be on that wall by the end of the night." He pointed to the Wall of Fame covered with photos of customers and continued to shovel the ice cream into his mouth. Brendon would be the next to admit that he wanted to win the silly competition too, because some things were just more cherishable with people so important.

The timer went off when the puddle of half-melted ice cream had disappeared. They cheered obnoxiously at the top of their lungs when the waitress gave them little ribbons, posing with dumb cowboy hats to fit the theme. And for some reason Brendon didn't even mind all the attention from the people around him, watching the annoying group of teenagers celebrate their childish victory. He was just smiling, half sick and on a sugar high, stupidly happy.

Brendon hugged his friends goodbye and took Dallon's hand to follow him back to his car, swinging their hands playfully in between them before Dallon opened the passenger seat for him. Brendon climbed in, watching the orange glow on the pavement underneath the lamppost, until Dallon twisted the heat on all the way up and said, "Thank you for making me go out tonight. I really needed that."

Brendon leaned his head back against the seat and asked lightly, "What, all the ice cream?"

Dallon smiled but didn't take his eyes off the dark road ahead as he pulled out of his parking spot. "Yeah, duh." He reached out to bump his fist against Brendon's arm, softer than he'd intended. "Seriously. Being around you and our friends... it was good for me. I probably would have just stayed home and moped but this was what I needed. I'm really glad we went out."

Feeling a little bold— and maybe it was because of the sugar high— Brendon reached out to take the hand that Dallon wasn't resting on the steering wheel. "I'm really glad we went out too."

When Dallon parked in front of the diner, Brendon leaned over to exchange kisses on cheeks before he got out of the car, said goodbye, and rushed inside to get out of the cold. Maybe ice cream on a chilly night wasn't a good idea but it was the best idea, because anything that made you happy was a good idea, and he beamed stupidly to himself when he changed into pajamas and crawled into bed, checking his texts to make sure Dallon got home okay.

Dally: hey Bren?

Bumblebee: yeah

Dally: you're changing my life

Dally: I'll see you tomorrow, sweet dreams my boy

Brendon stared at his screen, eyes wide and enamored, as he tried to find the words to say that Dallon was changing his life too.

* * *

The thing about Brendon and Dallon's budding relationship was that they were already so comfortable with each other that it was shocking. Because Brendon had work the next day after school but Dallon was anxious, not wanting to be around people, so he took a nap upstairs in Brendon's bed instead. And some days Dallon would sit on his ottoman and draw while Brendon did his homework, living quietly in the same space like it was innate, not feeling like they had to be out and about just because they were young and able to be. Coexisting, and that was when Brendon felt most comfortable.

He laid on his back on Brendon's bed, shoulder to shoulder, he had to go home after staying at Brendon's all week, sharing clothes despite them being a little small on him because he really just didn't want to face her. They stared at the dinosaur holding a cake together, and Brendon pointed, explaining when exactly he had come to realize that he trusted the animals on his ceiling more than he trusted the world. Dallon turned to watch him speak, like everything he said was poetry spilling out and he didn't even know it.

He wondered when exactly he realized that he wanted to keep this boy for a long, long time.

On Thursday afternoon a reluctant Dallon went home to his family when his mother practically begged him to, and Brendon went home with Tyler for a change. He just wished he could get the look on Dallon's face when he left Brendon's house the night before out of his mind.

Brendon tapped his pen against his astronomy textbook as Tyler hummed quietly under his breath, flipping through his advanced math textbook at Brendon's desk, and Brendon was just starting to scribble something about supernova explosions when there was a knock on his door. "Come in." He called, and it was Dallon who took a timid step in. "Hi, boyfriend." He shifted to sit up, concerned, as Dallon's forced smile seemed distraught.

"Hi. Sorry, your sister let me in, I didn't know you weren't alone." He apologized, but Brendon didn't mind the surprise visit. He'd been thinking about Dallon all day, actually, had been meaning to text him to check in and see how he was doing. Not to mention that he welcomed the distraction from homework gratefully and immensely.

"Oh, I don't mind." Tyler waved it off. "How are ya, Dal?"

"I'm alive." Dallon shrugged, taking a seat on the edge of Brendon's bed, and Brendon closed his textbook hesitantly. "You?"

"Oh, I'm okay. I can go, if you wanna be alone." He nodded his head toward the door but Dallon shook his head, and Brendon rubbed his shoulder absently, sitting up on his knees. "I have to go soon anyway."

"No, stay. I can go, if I'm interrupting. I just didn't really wanna be home right now." He looked between them and then buried his face in his hands with a sigh. "Sorry, that sounds manipulative. I swear I'm not trying to get you to let me stay. This is why I don't have friends. Okay." He went to stand up again but Brendon pulled him back, leaning in to wrap his arms around his neck from the side and practically abducting him because Dallon should never apologize for how he felt.

"Stop, Dallon, we want you here. We weren't even talking. We were just doing homework." Brendon nuzzled his face in the side of his neck. "What's going on?"

"My mom's boyfriend is over." He sighed, falling on his back, and Brendon pouted but reached down to place a hand over his heart anyway. "She's had him over literally every day. It's like he doesn't have his own place. She said she wants him to be comfortable with us, and she wants me to be more comfortable with him. Which is why she keeps asking me to spend time with him. I told her that you and I are working on a project together, and I hate lying, especially to her, but I just... I can't tell her that I don't like him yet." He sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. "I don't know how to tell her that. And she's happy, and if I'm happy in my relationship I don't want to derive her of that too. It's just... never going to be comfortable. She has high expectations."

"You shouldn't have to do that," Tyler said, and Dallon peeked up at him. "I mean, it's not like he's your boyfriend. You're not obligated to let him into your life. If you're uncomfortable then you shouldn't have to. Your mom has to respect that."

"Exactly!" Dallon agreed, and it was sad, that he was avoiding his own home. His own mother. It wasn't under his control but most bad things weren't, and seeing him so bothered and lost was jarring as Brendon had always seen him as someone self-aware. Like he could just stand up for himself, tell her the truth, not lose anybody in the process. But it wasn't that simple. Nothing was.

"Didn't she ask you if it was okay if she could date again?" Brendon asked, and then again it was probably the wrong thing to say because Dallon turned to look at him without that same ease in his eyes. He didn't know what time was the right time to start telling Dallon what he really thought, still dancing between the line of honeymooning and trying to make each other smile and honesty, saying the right thing at the wrong time.

"She did." He said pointedly, and Brendon sat back, folding his arms instead. "But it's not like I could tell her the truth. I'm her kid. I'm not the boss of her. It's not fair of me to say no because whether or not I'm okay with it, I don't have that authority."

"But she offered you some." Brendon reasoned, not making things any better.

"Brendon, shut up," Tyler advised, and he supposed he should. "Listen, Dal, I get what you're saying, and you're right, you can't control her, but you can control you. Don't let her tell you who to build a relationship with. You have the right to be upset about this. Your father died. Your mother is dating again for the first time. I would be upset too."

Dallon covered his face again, trying to black it all out because he liked the silence of the unknown sometimes. "I'm trying to avoid him but it's not that easy." He sighed out through his hands. "I've just... I've been mad at the world for years. And I haven't gotten anything out of that except more resentment from everyone around me. We're already on thin ice, my mom and I, and I... I wanna wait it out. I can't tell her the truth so I'm not gonna tell her anything. I'm just gonna wait until they break up."

“I hate to say this, but what if they don’t?” Brendon asked, and Dallon uncovered his face just to glare. Quick to defend himself, Brendon added a high pitched, “What? I’m just saying, you have to be aware of every possible situation. I know you don’t wanna consider it, but-“

“But there’s a possibility that they’ll be together for a long time and I need to be okay with that. I know, Brendon, I’m not stupid." He argued, pushing his hands through his hair again, a nervous tick it seemed. "It's selfish. And I know that. It's selfish and pathetic but I don't want her to be in a relationship. I'm not gonna lie. I'm a seventeen-year-old boy and I'm possessive of my mom. I don't want to share her." He added, strained and rushed as if he were embarrassed to admit it.

"It's not pathetic," Brendon whispered, reaching down to touch his hand gently. Dallon didn't understand how easy it was to regress when you needed someone. "She's all you have."

Blue eyes flickered to his own, glistening with tears, and Brendon had seen Dallon cry a few times now but it still stung. "Dallon," Tyler said quietly, breaking the silence as Brendon lost himself in his vexation. Dallon sat up on his elbows, suddenly aware that this was all out of his comfort zone, being vulnerable with people who weren't his childhood friends. Admitting secrets even they hadn't heard. "I'm gonna go, but I think you should chill. Get your mind off of this. Help him." He nodded toward Brendon, though Brendon wasn't sure how much help he could really be.

"You don't have to go," Dallon said weakly, watching him push his things into his backpack and sling it over his shoulder. But Tyler shook his head, assuring him not to worry, and Brendon said nothing as he looked between them. He didn't ever want to be that boy who had to pick and choose.

"I'm going out in a few and I was going to be fashionably late, but I doubt my boyfriend will like me anymore. And I plan on keeping him." He flashed them a grin, somehow Tyler always seemed to make complicated things seem simple. "I'll see you tomorrow, tiny. And not so tiny, I hope your mother comes to her senses and stays single forever." He scratched at the top of Dallon's head and then Brendon's, leaving awkward, forced smiles in his wake.

"Thanks," Dallon said, and Tyler blew kisses before he disappeared, leaving them in a long silence because Brendon didn't know what to say and Dallon had said enough.

"I wish I knew how to help. But I don't. And I don't wanna pretend to." Brendon ran a hand through Dallon's hair, eyes oscillating all over his features. "I'm sorry."

"I don't expect you to fix my problems, Bren. Just to be here for me. And you are." He promised, nodded gratefully like there was more he wanted to say, yet he couldn't find the words. "Does the bunk bed offer still stand?"

Brendon smiled, thumbing Dallon's cheek when he tried to, too. "Obviously. But I think at this point we can share a bed, you know? We're close enough."

"Obviously." He smiled up at Brendon warmly. "I’m really sorry for snapping at you. It's just hard, you know, because I know that everything you're saying is right, I know, and I hate that there's nothing else I can do about this. I mean, she's not gonna listen to me. I know her. And my mental health has been bad lately, and I feel like all this is just, like, topping it off. Like, I'm stressed about school and college and constructing a portfolio while I'm trying to balance being a good friend and boyfriend and son and now there's this, and I just... I don't know." He sighed, looking away again. "I can't do this."

"I think you can," Brendon said, and the words spoke louder than intended. "And if it's any consolation, you don't have to worry about being a good boyfriend. You already are. I mean, not that we've had much experience in our relationship so far, but I think we're okay. And besides, you don't have to be perfect all the time. Focus on everything else and get back to me when you can."

A smile reached Dallon's eyes, and sometimes that was better than a smile smile. Like this one was just for Brendon. "If you wanna know why I asked you out, this is it. You're seriously the only one that makes me feel like I can get through it."

"Then I'm doing my part as the good boyfriend. You can make it up later." Brendon leaned down a little and Dallon tilted his chin up to close the gap between them, reaching up to touch the side of his neck gently but kissing him soft because their lips were still acquaintances. It felt familiar but still new, and Brendon was hesitant, he still didn't know just what was okay and what wasn't.

"Tomorrow night?" Dallon asked against his mouth, and Brendon pulled away skeptically. "Ew. Sorry. I didn't want that to sound so suggestive. I just mean, like, we can have a sleepover and order food and talk. I love talking to you."

"I love talking to you too. You're so cute. Even when the things you say sound dirty." Brendon bumped his fist against Dallon's arm and blushed, still as awkward as he was before they started dating but trying nonetheless. Dallon grinned, because Brendon deserved it, even if the rest of the world didn't.

* * *

The problem was, there were cons to spending time at each of their homes. It was a typical teenage relationship issue, family's home, nowhere to be alone, but it was a trope because it was true. Dallon's mother had a nightly guest, and Brendon's family of seven hardly left any space to breathe.

Dallon sat quietly across from his boyfriend on the bed as Brendon told some story about a movie he'd stumbled upon on Netflix, something to add to the Movie List, because causeries felt less heavy than relaying to each other the real life stuff. Dallon watched his mouth move, fixated on his lips somehow, though Brendon didn't seem to notice because Dallon was still listening, he always did when Brendon talked.

Per his mother's law his door was half open, enough to hear the thumping of Mason's music and the chatter of the TV from downstairs and the sound of Kyla laughing with her friends in her room. It was after closing time so everybody was home, nobody down at the diner to clear it out a little, and he promised Dallon that getting away from home would be good but not when all he could hear was the noise of his family drowning them out.

Brendon rolled his eyes when Kyla and her friends burst out into loud laughter, making Dallon's eyebrows skip high on his face. "Sorry. Wait." He interrupted, setting a hand on his arm apologetically, and yelled at the top of his lungs a long, drawn out, "Shut up!"

Dallon's eyes widened and Brendon's siblings all yelled something back, but he got up to close his door despite the rule because it felt like getting berated by his mother outweighed this one. "Jesus, Brendon."

Brendon shrugged sheepishly, going back to sit on his bed. "Sorry. They're so annoying. Especially after closing. They know you're here and they should have half a mind to stop making so much noise but I guess it just adds up, there being seven of us. It's always so loud here. I just want it to be quiet for a minute."

"No, it's okay," Dallon promised, reaching out to rub absently at his knee. "Your house has character. At least there are people in it." He looked away, avoiding Brendon's eyes as he did when he didn't want to say what he was going to say. "I used to wish there were more people at my house. Be careful what you wish for, I guess."

"Dal." Brendon sighed, scooting closer uneasily until Dallon outstretched an arm to pull him close, never bothered by the proximity though Brendon was still nervous about it sometimes. Brendon shifted on his knees to sit beside him, tucking himself under his arm, as Dallon leaned his head against his. Like he was someone to lean on. Like he was someone to rely on. And, well, maybe he was now; things were changing so fast and he could hardly process it all. A few weeks ago he wouldn't have seen this coming. "I'm sorry."

"For what, Bren?" Dallon asked quietly, finding his hand to tangle their fingers together.

"For having the morality that I do because I have to tell you the truth." He sighed in frustration, knew it wasn't his place though he never had been good at staying out of people's business. "I know I'm the most negative person ever and this is so hypocritical, and I don't mean to overstep any boundaries because I really like you and I don't want you to be upset with me but your mom is dating. The only thing you can do is come to terms with that or ignore the guy until he goes away, if he goes away. Complaining about it isn't going to fix anything. I don't want you to stress yourself out over this. I don't want this to make you feel so out of control. You're smarter than that."

Dallon sighed from deep in his stomach and buried his face in Brendon’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. “I know." He agreed, and Brendon breathed out in relief, he hadn't been expecting that. "I don’t think I’m gonna get anything out of this. Being upset and childish about it. I just like to rant. It helps me get my feelings out, y’know? I don't really... have a lot of people to talk to. So I'm sorry if it's inconvenient, I just feel like I can confide in you. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s not inconvenient. I’m not uncomfortable. You can always confide in me, Dal, for anything. I promise.” Brendon assured him, reaching up to brush a little tuft of Dallon’s hair out of depleted eyes. “You can vent as much as you want. I’m your boyfriend. I care about you, and I care about what’s going on in your life. I just don't want you to be upset about things you can't control.”

Dallon peeked up at him and his eyes thanked him, like the rest of him did because it was all he knew how to do. Thank people for what they did for him because he'd been resentful, and he'd been stubborn, and it was better to lick your wounds and forgive and forget and be thankful than to hold a grudge. So he nodded, and Brendon did too, still learning what and what not to say because he didn't want to mess this up. But Dallon was learning too. "Thank you, Brendon."

Brendon nodded when Dallon made himself comfortable, pressing his face into his arm. “Of course, Dallon."

"Brendon Boyd Urie, open your damn door now!" His mother yelled suddenly from the hallway, and Dallon peeked up at him, biting back a smile.


	15. Chapter 14: Golden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hate this chapter buuuuut more to come soon that will be not as bad!!! :)

Dallon's apartment had somehow become a no man's land because Dallon refused to go back. Brendon took him in for the weekend like a lost puppy of some sorts, not wanting to say no to him because Dallon was even more stubborn than he was. It was probably unhealthy, and Brendon wanted to be able to tell him that it would probably be better to just talk to his mom, have one bad conversation, and get it over with. But it was his mother and his father's home. To Dallon, it was that simple.

"I'm going home tomorrow night," Dallon said as he dried off his hair with a towel, changed into sweatpants after a shorter shower than he was used to. Brendon looked up at him, and Dallon added, "I feel like I might be overstaying my welcome. I like staying with you, but I should go home."

"I don't mind your being here. My family loves you and you're not in the way," Brendon assured him, closing his laptop and stretching out his legs because he had been sitting too long, trying to finish reading this chapter of his online textbook. "But I think you should probably talk to your mom."

"I don't think I'm gonna be talking to her much," Dallon admitted, folding the towel and draping it over the back of Brendon's chair. "I'm not good at confrontation. Or maybe I'm too good at it. But either way, I don't wanna have that conversation. Not right now."

"That's up to you." Brendon shrugged, and didn't add that he disagreed because in the end it didn't even really matter. He wasn't a part of Dallon's relationship with his mother and there were things he didn't know about them. "But you're always welcome back here." He added, and Dallon plopped down on his bed.

"Thank you." Dallon laid down, resting his head on Brendon's thigh, hair still wet from the shower though Brendon didn't mind. "And hey, if you ever need to get out of the house, you're welcome at mine. As long as my mom's boyfriend isn't over because, y'know. I'm probably not gonna be there."

Brendon smiled, and Dallon stuck his tongue out playfully when Brendon leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. "I'll keep that in mind. You might wanna take it back later."

"I'm sure I won't," Dallon said, and Brendon appreciated more than he'd know that Dallon found comfort in him.

Come Monday morning, Dallon left home before the sun could fully rise after awkwardly rejecting breakfast offered by his mother's guest, as he called him, because he didn't fully deserve the label of boyfriend yet. He ate at the diner instead, making small talk with Brendon's dad until Brendon came down the stairs, not expecting him but getting a weird feeling in his stomach because he was afraid that Dallon was still avoiding his mom.

"How'd you sleep?" Brendon asked, holding onto his arm as they headed toward his car.

"With loud music playing," Dallon answered, and Brendon got the hint.

Dallon loved English class. It was weird, because Brendon hated it, they couldn't have that further in common. But Dallon loved it, because he loved writing, and reading, and making sense of things that other people couldn't. Sometimes Brendon liked to peek over at what he was writing in this purple notebook of his, but Dallon always shielded it, swatting at him and laughing because Brendon could be so nosy.

Mr. Murphy paced the room slowly, rubbing his hands together and looking around for unsuspecting victims. Brendon sat in his assigned seat at the back of the room, Dallon in the center, scribbling something in his notebook while Brendon watched curiously. Their teacher clapped his hands together, making Dallon jump, folding his notebook over his pen and turning to see Brendon smile amusedly at him.

"I wanna talk about words." Mr. Murphy announced, and Brendon leaned forward in his seat, resting his chin in his hand. "Everybody uses words. For good or for evil. You manipulate them, use them to manipulate, wax poetic, say what people want to hear. Maybe you use words for defiance, to be alluring, to tell your story, and you may not think of the words you use. But one thing is for certain: everybody uses words to talk about each other." He made a gesture toward the students and they all smiled, guilty of the accusation. "Some people believe that what others think of them isn't important. But what people think of you is built off of who you are. The language you use, the way you construct your speech. You'll see this theme in our next book." He turned, peering around the room. "Ashley, give me one word to describe how you feel toward Andrew."

"Friendly." She shrugged, and Mr. Murphy nodded, pleased.

"Good, good. Now..." He glanced back at the class and Brendon tapped his pencil warily, watching him meet Dallon's eyes before he could look away. Dallon's eyebrows climbed his forehead in mock suspense, daring him to ask. "Dallon, what's one word to describe your feelings toward Brendon?"

Dallon peeked over his shoulder to look at Brendon with a smile that wasn't a smile, and Brendon sat up in his seat, unsuspecting. "Limerence." He said softly, and Brendon's cheeks burned at the attention, trying not to beam at him, never one for PDA.

Mr. Murphy smiled and, as twenty pairs of eyes fixated on Dallon, clapped his hands to get their attention. At this point it was obvious, their connection, even their teachers had to know. How they exchanged smiles during class, stuck side by side while they slipped out of the room when the bell rang, partnered up for every activity even when everyone else chose to work alone. It was too close to be anything less than what they were.

"That's a good one, Dallon. Very lovely."

Someone in the back raised their hand, asking an awkward, "What exactly does that mean?"

Dallon smiled again, always pleased to be the one ahead of everyone, and a few people chuckled though they were all wondering the same. Brendon looked back at his boyfriend, and it was past that point where they could trick people into thinking their commiseration was just platonic. They'd never announced it but they'd made it clear, how sometimes their hands found one another's in the halls, how they sat too close sometimes, the way they looked at each other. It wasn't platonic. It never really was.

"The state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person." Mr. Murphy said, his eyes lingering on Dallon, impressed. His gaze flickered toward Brendon, and Brendon looked down at his desk, blushing at the realization. He wasn't invisible anymore. He hadn't noticed until now.

A few people awe'd, some laughed endearingly, some snickered menacingly and made comments to their friends. But Brendon glanced up at Dallon and he didn't care, because being invisible meant nothing when there was someone there to see him.

Brendon watched out the window as the mid-March wind blew skeleton branches on the trees outside, barely listening to the rest of the discussion. Maybe he should have been paying attention, maybe this was important, as his teacher tied together the lecture and the new book he began to hand out. But Brendon had some things on his mind, and Dallon was scribbling in his notebook again.

Dallon Weekes was someone that Brendon had spent years wanting to get to know. Now he was, and it wasn't what he had been expecting. Not anticlimactic, just... different. In the way that it made Brendon wonder how different a made up Dallon was compared to the one he was falling for.

Dallon was supposed to be the first happy artist. Brendon made himself that promise. To find that box that Dallon was supposed to fit in, or make a new one, or make sense of him at all because every time he thought he had him down, Dallon surprised him.

The bell rang to dismiss the class and Brendon got up, pushing his things into his backpack and tossing in his pen, stolen from the guidance counselor's office one morning when they talked about his course selection for next year, to top off the mess as he got up and migrated toward Dallon in the center of the room.

"That was beautiful," Brendon said quietly as people pushed past them, making their way out into the streamline hall. Dallon slid his notebook into his backpack neatly, smiling warmly at Brendon as he slung it over his shoulder.

"So are you." He took Brendon's hand on the way to the door, swinging them between them and making Brendon smile.

"Seriously!" He giggled, tugging on his arm. "Dork."

"Dallon, can I have a moment of your time?" Mr. Murphy called as they started out of the room together. Dallon exchanged skeptical glances with Brendon but nodded, and Brendon waited patiently by the door when Dallon went to linger by his teacher's desk. "There's a writing contest next month and I need to put in a request for a student in one of my classes to apply for it. It's for the west coast. It's a short story, the minimum is two thousand five hundred words. It's not much but it will require a lot of effort. Your writing in my class proves that you're dedicated. If you win or get honorable mention your story will be published and if you get first place, there's a cash prize. All the information is on this paper." He handed Dallon a flier, and he took it.

"Oh." He looked between the paper and Brendon, offering an encouraging smile. "I don't know. Um. Can I think about it?"

"Of course. I think you have a really bright future, Dallon." He nodded respectfully and Dallon thanked him, didn't really know what to say, but was smiling this weirdly proud smile when he went to take Brendon's hand, pulling him out into the hallway.

Dallon paused to slip the now folded piece of paper into his backpack and Brendon watched, dumbfounded. It wasn't every day that a teacher picked one person out of hundreds to do something like a multi-statewide writing contest. Brendon had seen his writing once or twice, secret glances because Dallon wasn't confident enough to show him, but he knew what Dallon could do. He knew he would be proud either way.

"Do you think you're gonna do it?" Brendon asked when Dallon captured his hand again, heading down the hallway that had long since cleared out.

Dallon sighed, looking up at the ceiling as Brendon watched him shrug. "I don't know, Brendon. Sharing my writing with thousands of people? That contest is across like, half a dozen states. There have to be hundreds of people applying. There's pretty much no chance of me winning, and even if I did, people would be reading my work and that... that’s intimidating.”

“But you’re good, Dal! From what I’ve read of yours, anyway. I mean, don’t let me dictate your decision to get your art out there or anything, I don't wanna force you to do something you're not comfortable with, but I love everything you do so I’m sure whatever you would submit would be really, really good. Good enough for thousands of people to read. Just saying.” He shrugged too when Dallon glanced at him skeptically. "And you write a lot, anyway. I see you in that notebook all the time." Dallon gave him a look, but Brendon grinned. "I pay attention!"

“God, Urie, you’re killing me.” He wrapped an arm around his shoulder and gave him a tight squeeze, compensation if anything. “But seriously, I’ll think about it.”

Brendon smiled, nudging him in the side though he knew he'd get through to him eventually. "You better."

Brendon watched him from the passenger seat that day after the final bell had rung, wondering how he didn't see himself how Brendon saw him. Dallon's art was groundbreaking, he'd always thought so, in this way that not many things he'd seen were. Maybe he'd always been biased, or maybe he just hadn't seen much art, but Dallon was bold, unique, and people deserved to hear him. Brendon couldn't make that up.

But spilling words onto a page where everyone could see them was different. Where things weren't as up for interpretation. His thoughts. They were much deeper and more personal than the dark undertones of acrylics on a canvas.

Brendon led Dallon up to his room like routine, settling down on his bed with his homework while Dallon sat at his desk with his own. It just didn't make any sense to him; he knew being vulnerable was hard, but he also knew what Dallon was capable of. "Hey, Dal?" Brendon peeped, pulling his favorite blanket onto his lap as Dallon searched through his backpack for his calculator. Dallon made a noise of acknowledgment, not really actually acknowledging him, and Brendon asked, "Why don't you wanna at least try?"

Dallon looked up at him, setting his calculator and a handful of stray pencils down on the desk slowly like Brendon were confronting him, though maybe he was. "Brendon." Dallon sighed, looking away, not annoyed but frustrated, because he didn't know how to put it into words. That he didn't feel like he could do it.

"Come on, Dal. All I'm saying is that it would be a cool opportunity for you. There's no harm in trying. You write all the time anyway. And if you happen to win or get honorable mention or whatever, you get published. Not to mention the prize money, which you can obviously spend on your amazing boyfriend!" Brendon thumbed through his math papers while Dallon watched him, not smiling but not not smiling, until he pulled out a worksheet with a llama looking creature doodle that Dallon had drawn in the corner during class.

"And if I don't win?"

"I'll give you consolation kisses! It's a win win. Come on."

Dallon smiled a real smile up at him then like he knew something Brendon didn't. And maybe he did, like he could see into this alternative reality, or the future, or maybe it was just a smile. But with Dallon, a smile always meant something more. Brendon was getting to know that a lot these days. "Why are you so adamant about this?"

Brendon shrugged and opened his own notebook in his lap. "Because I need to play the role of the supportive boyfriend. You're the talent in this relationship."

Dallon rolled his eyes. "Don't get me started."

Brendon smiled for a long minute, not saying anything because he never knew what words to say. That he wished Dallon saw himself how others saw him. Intelligent. Capable. That he wished he was more comfortable with himself because it had barely been a month and Brendon was already so comfortable with him. Sincerely, Brendon said, “Listen. I don’t wanna tell you what to do with your life. If you don’t wanna share your writing and risk having people see it and judge you then I totally understand, I wouldn’t wanna share something so intimate with the world either. But you’re talented, Dallon. You should hear yourself. You’re good with words.”

Dallon looked frustrated, conflicted. “I get it, Brendon, I do. It’s just...” He squirmed around in annoyance. “I feel like what I say doesn’t matter, like I’m just writing for me and not for anyone else. My problem is that I want what I do to mean something to someone. I want to paint a picture with words and tell a story like I do with art because that’s how you do creativity— you try to depict something. I want to convey a moment of peace or a feeling of clarity or the sudden realization that everything is going to be okay. That's what I need. And I feel like every single thing I do is a moot point.”

Dallon opening up about his insecurities was like an invitation. Like Brendon was being introduced to a piece of him that he hadn’t met or knew existed. And maybe Dallon hadn’t yet painted a moment of peace or a feeling of clarity or the sudden realization that everything was going to be okay, but Brendon knew that mind of his. Deep blue but coated golden. He could do anything he wanted to do.

“I don’t know anything about art, Dallon, but I know that seeing yours makes me feel something. You could change lives with what you do, you know?” He said honestly, making Dallon look up again like he didn't quite believe him. Simple sketches in the back of his sketchbook had left him feeling wonderstruck so he could only imagine what an essay of words could do to him. They could change everything. Dallon was so good at changing everything.

“But the thing is, I don’t know how.”

Brendon watched his eyes flicker downward, unsure of himself but not wanting to admit it. Brendon always thought so highly of him, and sometimes he just got tired of disappointing people. “You’ll never know if you don’t try, right?” He reasoned, and when Dallon glanced up at him only for their eyes to meet like they’d been waiting eternities he could see the gears turning in his mind. He could say so much about Dallon's raw and sublime talent but he decided to leave it at that. “Now come help me with my homework. We have a test tomorrow and I still don’t speak algebraic equation.”

Dallon gathered his math stuff and carried it to Brendon's bed, plopping down in front of him. "I'm gonna think about it." He promised, and Brendon's eyes lit up. "I'm not saying I'm definitely gonna submit something, but I'm gonna think about it. That's all I can give you."

"Thank you. That's enough." Brendon reached out to grab at his hand and grinned, tickling his stomach until Dallon took his hands too, smiling awkwardly because he loved Brendon so goddamn much sometimes. "You know what else you can give me?" He smirked, teasing flirtatiously until Dallon raised a skeptical brow. "The answers to the homework."

Dallon giggled, and Brendon let him go. "Nice try, Urie."

"At least I tried." He tapped the worksheet with his index finger. "Now seriously, help a bitch out."

Dallon rolled his eyes but shifted to sit beside Brendon anyway, bumping their shoulders and not saying what he wished he could. "Alright, alright." He dipped his head to kiss him on the cheek, more grateful than he knew how to say. "Thanks, B. For having faith in me, or whatever."

"Sure." Brendon grinned, tilting his head up to press a kiss to his lips because thank you too wasn't enough. "That's what boyfriends are for."

* * *

Brendon was brewing another pot of coffee and making small talk with the customers at the counter the next day when the bell rang above the door, letting in a bout of chilly air before the door fell shut again. Brendon looked up to greet the customer, but words died in his throat when he saw Ryan smiling back at him, and he smiled back awkwardly, he didn't know Ryan even really knew who he was, outside of sitting together at lunch most days by association.

"Brendon, hi." Ryan greeted in this way that made Brendon wonder if maybe they were friends, though they'd never had a conversation outside of Dallon's presence and Brendon didn't really know what qualified as friends, anyway.

"Hey. Hi." Brendon leaned forward on the counter, hoped he didn't look stupid, forced a smile. He never integrated well with Dallon's friends. He'd been too scared to. He hoped he didn't look pathetic but Ryan sat down, still smiling, and Brendon didn't know how to talk to him, but he wanted to be friends. He just didn't know how to do that. "What's, uh. What's goin' on?"

"Nothing interesting. I just need two coffees to go, please." He slid his wallet out of his pocket and Brendon went to grab two to-go cups and lids.

"Of course." He held up the coffee pot, freshly brewed and hot when his hand hovered over the glass. "Runnin' out of energy?"

Ryan smiled at him. "Only one of them is for me." He said, and Brendon looked away, embarrassed already. "Speaking of, I assume you know how Dal likes his coffee?"

"Yeah." Brendon poured one cup halfway before he looked up at him again, confused. Dallon? "Yeah, I do. This is... um. This is for him?"

"Yep." Ryan slid out a five dollar bill. "I'm going to his place for homework stuff, we kind of rely on each other academically. He likes your coffee the most because he's a pretentious bitch and won't touch Starbucks and I guess he's monetarily conscious, too, so. Here I am."

"Yeah, well, I second that. Starbucks is gross. And Dallon's a little pretentious. It's cute, though." He filled the two cups, warm against his palm when he held them steady. "He, uh. He didn't wanna come himself?"

"Oh, uh, he's visiting his dad right now. I didn't wanna intrude so I just came here first. It feels too... personal."

"Yeah, no, I get that." Brendon agreed; he never asked questions about Dallon's family because he didn't know how he'd answer. "Is he okay? Just visiting for...?"

"Just to say hi. He likes to go as much as he can. He thinks he's a bad son if he doesn't. He's so conscious of that stuff sometimes." Ryan shrugged, watching as Brendon tore open three sugars and a cup of cream to mix into Dallon's cup. "And hey, he told me about the writing contest. He says you're very adamant about him submitting something." He added when Brendon found the sharpie under the cash register, marking Dallon's cup with a heart for good measure. "And he appreciates how much faith you have in him."

"Oh." Brendon capped Dallon's drink and Ryan grabbed a few cups of cream to add to his own. "I just think he's too talented to keep everything to himself. And I'm sure he's tuned me out, I've gotten repetitive and probably really annoying, but I think he's worth it. He doesn't really get how good he is. And I mean, I know he's worried about how many people could read this but he's incredible, Ryan, you know? I can't believe how fucking talented he is. I can't believe that he doesn't know that."

"I think he doesn't wanna believe it," Ryan admitted, mixing his coffee aimlessly when Brendon looked up at him for answers. "He's always had this... idea— that he's not as great as we all think he is. That he's not loved, or something. So when people believe in him, he thinks he doesn't deserve it."

"But I love him," Brendon said before he could process it, and Ryan's eyes smiled back at him when Brendon's widened. It hadn't even been a month, though he swore that was what he was feeling. Or at least what he was starting to feel. "Please don't tell him I said that."

"I won't, Brendon." Ryan crossed his heart, capping his drink and smiling like he knew too much. "Listen. I know I haven't really had the chance to talk to you these past couple of weeks, but congratulations. You know, for getting with Dallon. He's liked you for a really long time. And I'm glad I don't have to listen to him rant about how much he wants to be with you anymore."

Brendon accepted the five dollar bill and clicked on the register, smiling to himself because he didn't even know. "He did that?"

"Yeah. And he's gonna kick my ass for telling you this but he's crazy about you, Brendon. Like, crazy crazy. Brendon's so funny, he's so nice, I wanna have his babies, blah blah blah. Never tell him any of that." Ryan took a sip of his coffee and Brendon didn't even know what to say, his heart pounding hard in his chest. "I know he talked to you every once in a while back before you knew each other. When he and I weren't on good terms. And I think that you were just always there for him when no one else was, so, you know. Thank you. He needed you a lot more than you know. He still does. You showed up at the right time. So I think it's safe to say he loves you too."

Brendon stared at him wordlessly. He knew there were things Dallon never said but he didn't think... he didn't know how much impact he had on him then. When they were awkwardly bumping into each other, saying things the other didn't know no one else knew. They trusted each other before they even knew each other.

Ryan lifted his cup and Brendon smiled, cheeks burning red because this felt like a stupid miracle. "Thank you, Brendon. And I know that you dating my best friend doesn't make us friends by association, but I'd like to be. And I hope you know that I'll be your future kid's godparent. Let's talk soon." He got up from his seat, both coffees in hand, and Brendon nodded, that sounded nice. Friends. He needed those.

"Let's." He agreed, and added a quick, "Tell Dallon I say hi."

"I will, Brendon." He promised, and Brendon nodded again, realizing for some reason that he missed Dallon though it had only been a few hours. "I'll see you later, future best friend in law." Ryan winked as he pushed his back against the door, back out into the Nevada winter. Brendon watched him go, thinking too much about what he said, and maybe Ryan was right. Maybe he'd showed up at the right time. Maybe Dallon showed up at the right time for him, too.

* * *

“Hey, what’s up with you and Ryan?” Brendon asked on Friday afternoon as he plopped down on Dallon’s bed, dropping his backpack beside Dallon’s on the floor. Dallon kicked his door shut, starting to pull his sweatshirt off, but stopped because Brendon always asked questions he didn’t know how to answer.

“What do you mean?” He asked, slowly tugging up his sweatshirt and watching Brendon sit up on his elbows as he folded it and hung it over the back of his chair. Sometimes he wondered exactly why Brendon felt like he needed to know everything, like he had to dig into the past, if it was control, or fear, because Brendon was so good at fear of the unknown. Dallon couldn’t blame him for wondering.

“No, nothing. That came across as skeptical. Sorry.” Brendon laughed to himself and Dallon forced a smile, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “He came to the diner yesterday and we talked for a minute and I just... I feel like I’ve been sitting with you and your friends at lunch and talking to them occasionally for a few months but I don’t know them. Not really. And back before you and I knew each other, you were always really stressed about your friends. But Ryan seems like a good friend. And I know it isn’t really my business but I just wanna know what that is.”

“You mean like, if we’re friend friends or friends who secretly hate each other?” He asked, and Brendon shrugged, nodding because more or less, that was what he meant. “We’re friends, Bren. Real friends. I mean, there were times where we weren’t, but that’s all just... angsty teen drama.” He reasoned, and Brendon tried to follow. “I guess we just... have a complicated relationship. We’ve been friends our whole lives. His family wasn’t a good one so I used to let him stay with me before his parents got divorced, and he stuck with me when my dad died even when I was inconsolable. It’s just that sometimes when you go through something really bad you change, and you fight with everyone just because you can, and he had a lot of reasons to stop talking to me but he didn’t. He is a good friend. I was just hard to be friends with.”

“Oh. Huh.” Brendon’s eyebrows went up in surprise and Dallon tried to smile; normally he wouldn’t bring it all up. The past. An old version of him he’d locked up because he couldn’t kill it. But Brendon was curious, it was just who he was, and Dallon didn’t want him digging up things he shouldn’t.

“You tryin’ to replace me?” He asked lightly, and Brendon had no idea the gravity it held but he shook his head and reached out to loop his fingers around Dallon’s wrist anyway.

“Just curious, is all,” Brendon assured him, tugging until Dallon shifted closer to him on the bed. “I just... you’re friends with Tyler. And I know that’s different, for some reason, but I feel bad. Like I’m not trying to be friends with your friends. And I’m not good at that, making friends, but this is important to me, Dal. Us. And I know this might be a lot, but I wanna be friends with your friends. I wanna be part of the things that are important to you.”

“Brendon.” Dallon pushed hair out of his face gently, smiling despite himself. “That’s sweet. And it’s important to me too, and so is your being a part of my life, and if you wanna be friends with my friends then I want you to be. Josh and Ryan like you, and they know how I feel about you, and I think it might be good for you to have some other people to trust. I can give you Ryan’s number, if you want it.”

Brendon looked at him for a second, contemplating. He knew Dallon was right. He needed someone else to trust. He had adapted well to Dallon in the first place and besides, he already knew Ryan and Josh, had Josh’s number because of the double date but was always too scared to try and make an effort. But he had gone so long with one friend all his life, and it wasn’t bad, just having Tyler, but he wanted to make some changes while he was here.

“Do you think that would be too much?” Brendon asked with concern; he never wanted to come on too strong. “Like, just texting him and being like, hey, I made my boyfriend give me your number because I’m creepy and possessive and stalk his friends because I need to be a part of every possible aspect of his life, let’s be friends?”

“I think that’s creepier for me than it would be for him.” Dallon reasoned, sliding down against the mattress and smiling when Brendon turned onto his side with a laugh. “No, Bren, I don’t think it would be too much. He likes you. And he knows it’s important to me that you guys get along. That you’re friends. Don’t look too much into it.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want it to seem like I’m skeptical. I’m not. And I’m not actually creepy and possessive and I don’t actually want to stalk anybody.”

“Well, duh.” Dallon tucked some hair behind Brendon’s ear and then again, it was sweet that he wanted to know so much about him. That he cared enough to want to know.

“I’m not one of those boyfriends who needs to be a part of every aspect of your life.” He added defensively. “I wanna be able to be my own person too.”

“Brendon, I know.” He laughed, nudging Brendon’s arm until he smiled sheepishly, just trying to get his point across. “Remind me later and I’ll text you his number. I’ll let him know I’m giving it to you.” He added and Brendon nodded, nervous and too full of dumb pride to admit that he was grateful, because he couldn’t do things like this on his own. Making friends. He knew it would end up eating at him, wondering why he was just so awkward, if he should try to start a conversation or apologize for the weird attempt to be friends because he didn’t know what he was doing. He was just good at dwelling.

“He told me that he agrees with me.” Brendon brought up suddenly, and Dallon raised an eyebrow like he was daring him to continue. “That you don’t believe you’re as talented as you are. That you’re scared to do this for some reason. The contest.”

“I mean...” Dallon sighed, searching his eyes aimlessly. Brendon was optimistic and Dallon never wanted to be the boy who hurt that. “The contest is to write about an experience in your life that changed who you are. It’s not like I can avoid writing about me. And it scares me, Bren, that one day my thoughts aren’t gonna be mine anymore. Because if they’re all out there then what am I gonna do? I don’t... want people to know everything about me. I like having secrets. People can't use what they don't know.”

“But you have a voice, Dal, and you deserve to use it.” Brendon insisted, and he understood that fear. It was why he never used to speak to anybody. But there were no original thoughts anymore, or so they said, and he couldn’t fear the destruction of something that didn’t exist. Maybe Dallon’s perspective was unique anyway but he shouldn’t be afraid of that. He should embrace it.

Dallon sighed, scratching his eyebrow in thought. Brendon always seemed to make things make sense to him, even when they were the same things he told himself over and over and never believed. “I’m gonna submit something, but don’t expect too much, okay?”

Brendon nodded, reaching out to envelop him in a hug, just proud of him for trying. “Yeah, Dallon, I won’t.” He promised, burying his face in the junction of his shoulder. “Thank you. I’m so proud of you. And believe me, you’re gonna change the world.”

When he pulled away there was something in Dallon’s eyes, pride, excitement, fear because unhinging that cage that held your thoughts captive was terrifying. Brendon got that. It was like therapy, except spilling it on paper and trying to get it published. But he was talented. He had something important to say. And the world wasn’t ready for him.

“If only I can figure out how.”

* * *

If Brendon had a superpower it would be predicting his own feelings. Preceding pretty much anything Brendon had this skill, one of very few, where he knew what he would feel, and this was one of those times where that skill showed its face again. Because he knew when Dallon promised to get him Ryan’s phone number, he would be anxious before he could even send a hello. But at least he had his consistency, never having given his anxiety an opportunity to tap him on the shoulder for a sneak attack.

He stared down at the new number in his contacts, anxiety deep in his stomach, and yeah, he had a feeling.

It was such a stupid thing to be nervous about. Just short of a dozen digits and eight letters on a little screen connected to some chips and wires. But it was making him want to puke.

He was going to come across as creepy. He knew it. He was going to look weird and obsessive and Ryan was going to warn Dallon that Brendon was a crazy boyfriend and Dallon was never going to speak to him again. This was stupid. Brendon was stupid. He was stupid and crazy and this was why everybody hated him. Because he was nosy and invasive and weird.

He paced around the room for a good ten minutes and stared at his screen, wondering if he should just delete the message he’d typed out in ten different ways because he was good at psyching himself out. Making himself sick for no reason. It was just that whenever there was even the slightest margin of error he didn’t want to chance it. Trying to make friends when you were somebody who spent your whole life with barely any made it very clear that there was a lot of potential for failure.

But then again, he overthought things. He could make himself so anxious that he’d throw up just thinking about a school assignment he hadn’t even been assigned yet, or break out into a cold sweat thinking about having to go to the store alone. He still made Tyler order for him sometimes when they went out to eat. He hit send and started to chew on his thumb nail, feeling like an idiot and a creep and a stalker because who did this? What was he trying to prove? He didn’t need to dig his way into everything.

Brendon: hey it’s brendon, dallon gave me ur number I just wanted to say hi

His hands were shaking inexplicably when a bubble appeared on the screen. He should have made up some excuse, asked for homework help, people didn’t just start conversations because they wanted to say hi, he was such an idiot. He was an idiot, and he didn’t know how to make friends, or talk to anyone, or—

Ryan: hi!! dal told me he gave it to you and that you were nervous about talking to me or whatever but trust me I’m not that cool or fun to talk to so you’re getting your hopes up :) how are you

Brendon: i’m ok and also remind me to beat him up for telling u that ???? I’m not like obsessed or anything I just thought we could be friends since we have dallon in common I’m sorry this is coming across as a lot creepier than I meant for it to be (also how are u)

Ryan: don’t be sorry! (i’m ok too) dal has been begging me and josh to be friends with you forever he used to be so nervous around you that when you became friends he wanted us to talk to you too so he wouldn’t have to be alone with you :) he seems like he has his shit together but he's actually a fucking dork

Brendon: that’s so sweet I guess we’ve progressed a little since then

Ryan: you have!

Brendon smiled to himself softly and took a seat on the edge of his bed, thinking about what they had talked about at the diner. It was nice to talk to someone who knew the things he didn’t. It was nice to talk to someone new, too, because it was a good thing to have more than two people sometimes.

“So you guys are all buddy buddy now?” Dallon asked a few days later, tapping his pen against the paper in between he and Brendon as Brendon filled a glass with orange soda and went to slide it to a girl at the end of the counter. Brendon turned to smile at him over his shoulder, and Dallon added, “I mean, I can get behind that. Except if you’re gonna have like, secret meetings to talk about me. Cause I might not be able to get behind that.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s gonna be the Let’s Talk Dallon club. All we do is talk about you. And he tells me all your secrets and I tell him all the things only I would know. You know, as a lover.” Dallon quirked an eyebrow, smiling. “And— yeah, no, I talked to him like, twice. It’s just, I don’t know how to explain it. I just... I’ve never had friends, Dallon. Not besides Tyler. It feels like I’m actually capable of making friends myself now.”

“Technically you made friends because of me.” Dallon reasoned, and Brendon tsked as he turned the paper toward him, scribbling in an answer to the next question on his math homework because that was what Dallon was here for, after all.

“Whatever. Point is, I’m sick of being lonely.” Brendon pointed the pen at him and it ended up sounding sadder than he’d meant for it to, but Dallon’s eyes softened when Brendon looked away, suddenly guilty. He never meant to remind Dallon of who he was before him. “Look, for a really long time, I’ve only had my family and Ty. And that’s not a bad thing, it’s just... I don’t wanna go my whole life with one friend.”

“I get it.” Dallon nodded, reaching out to nudge his hand. “No, I get it. I’m just teasing you. I’m glad you wanna be friends with my friends. I’m glad you’re serious about us.”

“I am,” Brendon promised, and his phone’s alarm went off in his back pocket as he was reaching over to take Dallon’s hand. “That’s my shift.”

“Alright, I’m gonna get home, then. We’ll talk tonight. Later, boyfriend.” Dallon sat up on his knee to catch Brendon’s lips in a kiss over the counter before he grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. Their time together was always short on school days, anyway.

“Bye, Dal.” Brendon smiled, tugging off his apron, and Dallon glanced at him over his shoulder as he was leaving. Sometimes he worried about Brendon and didn’t know how to say it.

Brendon hung up his apron and started up the stairs in the back, already sleepy because math homework wasn’t the right amount of riveting and Dallon trying to explain it was just distracting because Brendon liked to watch his lips instead. It was nice in the diner, with everything dying down for the evening, quiet, and he was just going to head upstairs to his room when the sound of shouting in the living room caught his attention.

Eyes wide, he rushed into the living room to catch his brothers fighting. He hadn’t realized he was staring, shocked, until his mother stepped in furiously, pushing past her youngest to go and break it up. “Hey!” She yelled, grabbing at Mason’s arm and pulling him away from his brother, who wiped blood from his mouth and glared. “What the hell is this about?!”

Mason pulled away fiercely, defiantly, and his mother glared back at them violently. “Disagreement.” He spat, reaching up to touch his blackening eye carefully but pulling away as he flinched.

“He started it,” Matt added, and Mason was about to launch at him again before his mother grabbed his arm.

“I don’t care if you have a disagreement!” She shouted, she never yelled unless she was really mad, and Brendon was trembling though he didn’t realize it. “You are adults and you’re acting like children. I don’t care who started it. This isn’t middle school. Both of you, go get cleaned up. We need to talk.” She turned toward Brendon, still standing in the doorway of the front room, terrified and unmoving, staring at the blood and bruises as all the color drained from his face. “Go upstairs, Brendon, please.”

Brendon didn’t say a word as he escaped up the stairs, almost slipping as he tried to get away. At the top he almost tripped over Kyla, sitting on the last stair, but she shushed him and got up to follow him to his room down the hall, placing a hand on his shoulder because she could see him shaking.

“You okay?” She asked, and he sat on the edge of the bed, nodding though he felt unsteady. There was so much blood, it was dripping down their skin, and— “Bren?”

“Yeah. I just.” He swallowed, and she closed the door quietly, going to sit beside him on the bed. “I’ve never seen an actual fight. Not aside from people hurting me. Never that much blood. I didn’t think... I didn’t think they were like that. What happened?”

“Um, from what I understand, I guess Matt slept with Mason’s best friend and Matt didn’t call her after so now Mason’s like, double pissed, and Mason confronted him and Matt was like, maybe if you knew both sides of the story then you would understand, and then Mason was like, maybe you need to understand, and then punched him. And I was like what the fuck, you know, because Mason has never punched anyone.”

“He got suspended once for punching someone at school.” Brendon reminded her, though that had been when he was still in middle school and he never actually knew the details because everybody tried to protect him back then. They still did, sometimes.

“Right! I totally forgot about that. Everyone thought he had anger issues. He probably does.” She shrugged, and Brendon crossed his arms uncomfortably. “Whatever. Anyway, they started fighting, and like, being all manly about it, because for some reason they can’t talk it out like normal people, and Matt couldn’t get a word in cause Mason wouldn’t let him. So I kinda just wanna see how it’s gonna end up. Cause they’re pissed at each other. They’ve had some fights before but this was big.”

“Don’t say that.” Brendon pleaded, and Kyla looked up at him, reminiscent worry in her eyes. “I don’t want them to fight. I hate when people fight.”

“Don’t worry, B, it’s probably gonna be fine.” She shrugged, contradictory to what she had just said, and he knew she was doing that thing where she tried to shield him from the truth. She always had been more sensitive to his feelings.

Brendon frowned, uneasy because he didn’t do so well with things being out of place. “So, like, if you were listening to them fight, why didn’t you go stop them?”

“Well, I wanted to hear what was going on, not stop it.” She figured, and Brendon smiled a little, not exactly comforted but at least he had someone to talk to.

“You’re a bad person.” He accused, but she just smiled and shrugged, not disagreeing. He tried to smile too but it ended up being a sigh, and Kyla shifted closer when he extended an arm for a hug. “I hate when they fight.”

“I know, Bren, but it’s not that bad. Honest. They’re gonna argue for a few days, avoid each other, be annoying and bratty and childishly petty, and then they’ll forget it and go to some party and drink together and then everything will be okay.”

“Is that how they solve all their problems?” He asked in disbelief. She nodded, and he guessed he didn’t know his family as well as he thought he did. “Oh. Wow.”

“Stop freaking out. I can feel you trembling. It’s okay. Hey.” She squeezed him tighter and he went to bury his face in her shoulder. “Bren, it’s okay. There’s just stuff we don’t tell you. It’s cause we don’t wanna scare you. Okay?” She cupped his cheek and he nodded, but he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t wanna have to be protected, but he guessed he still did.

* * *

Brendon was walking around his room aimlessly, trying to get out his anxiety because he wasn't okay when not everything was copacetic. Nobody had talked to each other at breakfast, they all ignored each other at work, and it scared him all over again. Everything not being okay. He crept out of his room, hands shaking, and tapped his fingernails gently against Matt's doorframe to catch his attention. Matt looked up, and Brendon hadn't realized how bad he'd looked before, a big bruise underneath his left eye above a clean cut, a split lip.

"Can I come in?" He asked, voice hushed.

Matt nodded. "Yeah. Close the door."

Brendon did as he was told, keeping it quiet, whenever somebody fought his mother made them all keep their doors open. Matt said nothing as his younger brother folded his arms, uncomfortable, while they stared at each other from across the room. The silence was excruciating, and Brendon didn't know what he wanted to say, why he was even here, why he was getting in the middle, but he chewed on his lip pensively and asked, "Why did you do that?" Matt looked up at him, not knowing what to say, and Brendon probably wouldn't either. "Kyla told me."

“Oh.” He looked down at his lap, guilt clear in his eyes, and Brendon went to sit in his desk chair, avoiding Mason's bed as he chose to sleep on the girls' floor until things got better.

Brendon looked up to his brothers, he really did, no matter how often they used to tease him, or picked him up just to prove how much bigger and stronger they were, and despite all the questions about Brendon's personal affinities that may have seemed offensive at the time, back when they were still learning what was okay and what wasn't. Back when they were still learning who their brother was.

"Look, it's complicated," Matt answered hesitantly, like Brendon hadn't heard the whole story, and he hadn't, and he knew that, but there were only so many questions he knew how to ask.

He shifted his weight, leaning against the back of the chair on his side. “Sleeping with someone and ignoring them after isn’t complicated.”

“She wouldn’t talk to me, Brendon.” He retorted hastily. Brendon looked up at him, confused, and Matt looked away, at his hands twisting together in his lap. "Look. I don't expect you to understand stuff like this. It's complicated. Sex isn't... it isn't how you see it, to everyone. Sometimes it's just sex. It's a long story. She's the one that stopped talking to me. All you need to know is that Mason is friends with her and he's upset with me. I don't want you to get involved in this, okay?"

"Okay, but I just..."

"You get scared when things like this happen, I know." He said, and Brendon nodded, they all knew him too well. "It's gonna be fine, Brendon, I don't want you to freak out over stuff like this. It's not like we're never gonna talk again. We're brothers. We share a room. He's gonna have to come back in here eventually."

"Does he know? That she's the one who won't talk to you?"

“I tried to tell him. He won’t listen to me. He’s taking her side for whatever reason.” He looked down, regret in his eyes though Brendon wouldn’t call him out on it. “I’m gonna let it cool down a bit and see what happens, I think. Just... just do me a favor, Bren." Brendon looked up. “Don’t let anybody do this to you, okay? Don’t be like me.”

Brendon let out a half chuckle, half sigh, and got up to sit with him on his bed. Suddenly he didn’t seem so scary, just scared, and Brendon hadn’t seen him look so vulnerable in his life. Brendon was always the one being vulnerable. He didn't leave a lot of room for anybody else. “Yeah, don’t worry about that. I’m never gonna sleep with people I don’t know. I’m not even ready to sleep with my boyfriend. I still can't call him my boyfriend without it feeling unreal.”

“You’ll get there.” He placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “You don’t have to, obviously. I know that's not exactly your thing. But at least you're doing okay, right?"

Brendon nodded, he guessed he was doing okay, a little anxious objectively but otherwise alright. He was making friends with Dallon's friends, and getting to know him, and... "Yeah, I guess. I'm alright."

"Good. And I promise things will be fine. Mason and I." He stuck his pinky out and Brendon half smiled, linking his own with his brother's and nodding. "Don't stress so much about stuff like this, Bren. You have so much more to deal with than us getting into a fight about some girl."

"I just don't like when things aren't okay."

"I know." Matt pat his knee. "I know, but it's a lot more than just our family. This involves her too. This involves a lot of people and not just a stupid disagreement. And I'm gonna figure things out. I mean, if you can get your shit together, then so can we."

Brendon tried to smile, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. "I don't have my shit together, Matt." He told him, though it was nice that he thought so.

"Well, you do more than the rest of us. That says a lot about us as a family, huh?" He nudged Brendon's knee with his own and Brendon laughed quietly, nodding again in agreement. He loved his family but they were messy. He'd had a front row seat of all their drama for almost seventeen years. "Hey, don't think too much. He's gonna have to talk to me eventually. I stole his headphones."

Brendon smiled in amusement and Matt did too, punching his arm playfully. He always seemed to make Brendon feel better. That mattered, and things didn't always have to be perfect, because nothing great was perfect. He couldn't expect his family to be. He just wished they knew how to handle the things that weren't perfect a little better.

* * *

“Do you think it’s justified?” Brendon asked one day as he sat across from Dallon at Tony’s, picking at his pizza crust and avoiding blue eyes. He hated talking about his insecurities, much less admitting that he was insecure at all. “That people hide things from me cause they think I can’t handle it?”

“I don’t know,” Dallon said honestly, and Brendon‘s shoulders slumped because he expected Dallon to have all the answers. Or maybe he didn’t, maybe he just expected too much, though he wasn’t sure where or when he was supposed to stop asking for things. “I mean, I didn’t know you back then, so I don’t really know how bad you can get. But I’m sure they have good intentions.”

“I’m sure they do.” He lamented, but it was the default answer. He wasn’t sure how true it was. All his life Brendon had been excluded by everyone; he didn’t want to feel like his family was excluding him too. “I just feel like— like I’m... outside of everything. Like I’m not really a part of it. Like I’m seeing myself try and be a part of things I know I’m not capable of being a part of. Like trying to make friends and trying to know whatever’s going on with my family. Sorry. It’s not about me.” He apologized, and Dallon shook his head minutely, not knowing exactly what to say. “It’s just frustrating, you know? Feeling like you don’t fit in anywhere.”

“Yeah, I know. I know how you feel. Not within my family, but..." He paused, shrugged. "I don’t think they’re, like, out to get you or anything. Or intentionally leaving you out.” He reasoned, picked at the pepperoni on his slice and then got bored, went to puncture his straw wrapper instead. “I think people just know you, Brendon, and they want to make things easy for you.”

“S’not easy when you’re the only one not knowing anything.”

“Don’t you mean everything?” Dallon asked, shooting him in the face with his straw wrapper and grinning when Brendon glared. “C’mon, Bren, you like to know things. It’s not a bad thing.”

“Yeah.” Brendon sighed, defeated, and took a bite of his pizza. He couldn’t be bothered to argue. He was right, after all, and it wasn’t just the fighting that bothered him but the fact that he didn’t know what he should. “It all just seems so pointless. It’s a winless battle. It that a saying?” He asked, and Dallon shrugged, swinging his leg back and forth aimlessly under the table. “Whatever. Either way, it makes no sense to me. Fighting over a girl. Or not the girl, I guess, just about Matt sleeping with her and Mason twisting the story, or whatever.”

“Maybe Mason likes her,” Dallon suggested, sticking his straw in his soda while Brendon reached for a napkin. “I mean, that would make so much sense. Why else would he be so mad that Matt hooked up with her?”

“I don't know.” He wiped his hands on the napkin and tucked it underneath the edge of his plate. “I mean, she’s Mason’s best friend. Imagine if you had a brother and he slept with your best friend.” Dallon raised an eyebrow, and he added, “I mean, okay. Yeah. Imagine like, your best friend sleeps with, like, I don't know. Your other best friend.”

“If Ryan slept with Josh I would be immensely surprised because, you know, he’s straight.” Dallon configured.

“Okay, nevermind, you’re bad at this.” Brendon tsked, and Dallon smiled but didn’t disagree, instead went to grab at a fry. He was better at just listening, anyway. “The point is, there’s a line. Matt crossed it. And Mason’s always been... like, angry. And now it’s like, uncomfortable, and they kept snapping at each other at dinner so my mom yelled at them, and they both left, and then she snapped at my dad cause he tries to mediate and so I just went upstairs because I hate when people yell and I’m sorry, I hate ranting about my family.” He sighed, shaking his head. He never did this. He didn’t know what was going on with him. “I love them, it’s just...”

“They’re a lot sometimes.” Dallon offered, and Brendon nodded, grateful that he got it. Normally people would tell him to just appreciate it, at least he lived in a stable home with a loving family. “So, is that why you’re eating like, the whole pizza? Cause you didn’t have dinner?”

“Hey!” Brendon laughed, kicking at his foot under the table when Dallon grinned back at him, reaching out for his drink and biting at the straw aimlessly. “Shut up. I’m not eating the whole pizza. Just, y’know, most of it.” He added, comically holding up his slice before he took another bite, unapologetic.

“No, I don’t mind. I'm not that hungry anyway. I just don’t want you to spend all your paychecks on food that we share. Next time, I pay.” He nudged Brendon’s foot under the table with his own and Brendon nodded, though he liked to treat Dallon. It was the least he could do.

“Do you think everything’s gonna be okay?” Brendon asked quietly just then, rolling Dallon’s forgotten straw wrapper tightly between his index fingertip and thumb. “With my family, I mean?”

“Why wouldn’t it?” He asked, and Brendon shrugged, but knew Dallon was trying to get him to think. He was being irrational. He knew that. It was just that he was so anxious about it, and it made so much sense. Things weren’t the way they always were. By association that meant things were bad. “I’m sure they’ll get over whatever this is, Brendon, and so will you. Sex is just sex, after all.”

Brendon’s eyebrows knit together; he didn’t know Dallon felt that way. They’d never really talked about it. Never seriously, anyway. “You really think that?”

Dallon shrugged one shoulder, and Brendon shifted uncomfortably, not so sure they should be having this conversation right now. So... early. “For some people, yeah. Everyone’s different. Sex is a big deal to me. I’m religious, so, y’know. I was raised to think that it’s something sacred. It’s something that should be taken seriously. And I'm... y'know. I'm kind of traditional. I don't believe in sex before marriage unless you're really committed to the person you're with, and under certain circumstances, but that's a conversation for another time." He added when Brendon opened his mouth to ask. "But I can’t judge people for their decisions. I know what it’s like to be in a place like that where you feel like you need that relief. I know what it’s like to lust after someone. So if Matt wants to have sex with a girl he barely knows then he can feel free. If the girl is willing, well. It’s her body. She can make that choice.”

“I guess you’re right.” Brendon shrugged half-heartedly and reaching out to grab his drink. “But what if it’s not just that? What if it’s the betrayal, or the jealously, or— I don’t know. But what if this is more than my brother having a one night stand?”

“Then your brothers will figure it out and you’ll mind your own business. I know that's not that easy for you, but it's respectable. Just wait it out. They’re adults. They can solve their problems. And besides, it’s hard not to bump into people in that house. I mean, you were born into a litter, babe. Eventually they’re gonna have to figure it out.”

“Yeah.” Brendon sighed, but tried to smile. He was right. There was a lot going on in the Urie house. You couldn’t ignore anyone no matter how hard you tried. “I don’t know. I’m just freaked out. I want them to forgive each other and stop being petty. Everyone is on edge. Mason is sleeping in the girls' room, and Kara started staying with her boyfriend cause she doesn’t wanna be around us right now, and I miss her, and my parents are mad at each other, and I hate when they fight.”

“None of that is about you, Bren, it’s not your fault.” Dallon interrupted.

“No, I know. I don’t blame her. If I could hide out somewhere then I would.” He reached out to pick at a french fry. “And my parents are really tense whenever any of us fight. So then they fight. And it’s not... good.”

“Fighting’s never good.” Dallon agreed, though his parents never fought. At least not in front of him. “I’m sorry. I would say you can come stay with me but my mom’s boyfriend, and-“

“No, don’t even worry about it. I wasn’t asking for an invitation. I don’t wanna intrude. This’ll be over soon anyway.” He promised, he really didn’t want to get in anyone’s way.

“Yeah.” Dallon tried to smile. “On the bright side, at least you’re not the one they’re mad at. I guess it’s not good for them, but, y’know.”

“Yeah, I guess. They’re not happy about Matt sleeping with someone he’s not dating, they’re still Mormon, after all, and they’re upset that he engaged in violence with Mason, or so they said. I don't know. They listened to both sides of the story, and talked to them about it, and now it’s on them. They have to make up on their own terms.” He sat back in his seat, wiping his hands on his pants before he realized that probably wasn’t cute and grabbed a napkin instead. “I think they’re upset that they’re letting a girl come between them. A girl he slept with. Family should come first. And, you know, they know we’re all old enough to be having sex but it’s still a big deal.”

“Yeah, I get that. Family first. And sex is a big deal. It’s valid to worry about it. But you shouldn’t, Urie, okay? They’re gonna be okay. So are you.” He reached out to bump his fist against Brendon’s before he grabbed his drink, smiling this supportive smile, and sometimes Brendon needed to hear it. That he was okay. That this wasn’t the end of the world.

“Thanks, Dal.” He bumped his fist back, meaning more than he said.

“Sure.” Dallon smiled, and they fell into silence as Brendon stared aimlessly down at his knee and Dallon watched him, wondering just how deep this went. “Are you scared?” He asked suddenly, and Brendon looked up at him, confused. “I mean, the other day you told me that you only really have your family. And I know you don’t like when things aren’t okay. And you seem to be overthinking this a lot, and you always overthink things when you’re scared.”

“Oh,” Brendon nodded, taken aback, and he didn’t even really realize Dallon was paying that much attention. “I guess... yeah. I’m a little scared. I’m always scared. Everything’s just... weird right now.”

“Now tell the whole truth.”

Brendon looked up, at Dallon half smiling because he knew him too well, and Brendon balled up a napkin and threw it at him. “Fuck. Yeah. I’m scared. It’s just...” He looked away, taking the straw of his drink in between his lips. “It’s pathetic.”

“I’m sure it’s not pathetic.”

“I just don’t like when things are bad.” He reiterated, and Dallon raised an eyebrow to tell him to elaborate. “It’s like... I get so anxious sometimes, and it gets worse when there’s something to like, be anxious about. And I know it’s not really my business, but it kind of is, you know? Cause it’s my family. And they don’t always tell me stuff, cause they don’t wanna freak me out, but I freak out anyway. I’ve always been like this. And I never really know how to like, fix it.”

“Do you have, like, an anxiety disorder?” Dallon asked, but Brendon shrugged. He’d never thought of it like that. There wasn’t really anything wrong with him. It was just that sometimes he still got scared. “Bren, it’s okay to be worried.”

“I know, but... I don't know. I’m just scared. There was a lot of blood, and like, violence freaks me out, and the yelling, and I just—“

“It’s a little traumatizing. I get it.” Dallon nodded, and he himself had never been one to get affected by these kinds of things but he knew Brendon. And Brendon didn’t even get it sometimes, his irrational fears, because it was just a fight. It was just a stupid fight. “I’m here for you, Bren. I just feel like that needs to be said.”

“I appreciate it.” Brendon reached out to touch his hand, fingers greasy from the food, and they exchanged smiles. It was nice to do this, sometimes. To get away from everyone.

Brendon was sitting at the kitchen table that night on his phone, having finished his snack already but not bothering to get up because Matt came downstairs too, and they were making small talk while he went to get something to drink. The floor creaked in the same place it always did when Mason entered the room, clearly not knowing that the two were already there because he scoffed when he saw Matt.

Matt rolled his eyes and Mason went to push past him to get to the fridge, shoving him hastily and making him take a step back. “Don’t fucking push me.” He snapped, pushing him back.

“Fuck you.” Mason retorted.

“Stop.” Brendon intervened, and his brothers froze, turning to look at the boy with wide eyes because breaking up a fight was unlike him. “Just fucking stop, you guys, this is useless. Nobody is getting anything out of this. You’re just making things harder and being mean and you’re scaring me and I’m sick of you fighting over something so stupid. Mama was right, you’re acting like children.”

Before either could say a word Brendon was jumping up and darting upstairs with tears in his eyes. He wasn’t used to snapping at his siblings but he couldn’t do this anymore. Sit and watch them make things harder on themselves. On everybody else.

There was a quiet knock on the door as Brendon stared at the dinosaur holding a cake angrily, wondering why he had to be the one in the middle of everything. He peeked up and his door opened, revealing the faces of his two older brothers looking like they had found some common ground, their little brother’s anxiety, as they started into the room together.

“We didn’t know how bad you were, Bren,” Matt said softly, and Brendon looked away, shrugging. He didn’t see it as him being bad. He was just a little nervous sometimes. It was justifiable. It all made sense to him. “Can we come in?”

“Sure.” Brendon shifted uncomfortably and Matt went to sit beside him as Mason shut the door, taking a seat at his desk instead.

“Mama told us that you said to her the other day that you were really anxious. Is it because of us?”

He didn’t meet his brother’s eyes when he nodded slowly, picking at the little decal on his sock. “I just don’t like when things aren’t okay. It freaks me out. Cause it makes everyone really upset, and then they fight, and I’m scared that they’re gonna fight too much and like, get divorced or something, and-”

“Whoa, wait, Bren. They’re not getting divorced. Where did that come from?” Mason intervened and the youngest shrugged, he really didn’t know. It was just another irrational fear. His parents were happy, didn’t fight often, had been together for a long time. But still, things weren’t okay, they couldn’t be okay with everyone on edge like this. “No, look, no one is getting divorced, man. And we’re all okay. We argue all the time. Remember when he stole my favorite shirt? I didn’t talk to him for a week.”

“But that’s different,” Brendon argued, and his brothers exchanged looks.

“Brendon, we’re still family. I’m not gonna, like, disown all of you and move away.” Matt promised, and he knew that, he knew, but he couldn’t help but think it. “C’mon. We don’t want you to dwell on something like this. It’s not worth it. Will it make you feel better if we just make up and let all of this go?” He asked, and Brendon sniffled, nodded, watched Matt look up and Mason and raise an eyebrow. “Then we will.”

“Yeah, we will,” Mason agreed, and got up to pat Brendon‘s back gently. “I’m sorry that this caused so much trouble for you. I wish you would have just told us that it makes your anxiety worse.”

“I thought I could handle it,” Brendon peeped, and it sounded pathetic when he said it out loud.

“You shouldn’t have to handle things all alone. If you’re upset about something we won’t judge you. We just wanna help.” Matt added, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a hug. Brendon knew logically he had no reason to be anxious, and that he was overthinking again, and that it was just inconvenient for him to be scared all the time. He just didn’t know how to stop when he had been this way forever. “Okay?” Wordlessly Brendon nodded, and he guessed it was okay. “Okay.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go move back into my room.” Mason said quietly, nodding his head at his brothers and going to leave because he was never so good at the sentimental exchanges. Brendon watched Matt get up too, squeezing his shoulder supportively as if to assure him that things would work themselves out.

“I’ll help.” He said, following after him but turning to look back at Brendon. “We love you, little brother.” He added quietly, blowing him a kiss and closing the door behind him. Brendon tried to smile as he disappeared, leaving him alone again in the dark.


	16. Chapter 15: The Placebo Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna try to get a ton of chapters out because I'm trying to actually publish a real version of this soon and I might have to take it down or make it private once it's actually published!! I don't want it getting out that this was a fic in the first place (for the band's sake, because let's be real I do not want them knowing about this), so please please please never ever mention it outside of ao3 if you want this story to stay up! it's super important to me and I don't want anything to jeopardize it.

Brendon was sitting in the library with his math homework and his phone's calculator laid out in front of him during a free block a week later when his vision was obstructed by a loose piece of paper taking the place of his work. A little frustrated, he glanced up to berate the interrupter, only to see a smiling Dallon and forget his anger because, well, it was math homework, anyway. He turned back to the paper, picking it up with blatant curiosity, seeing some stranger's scrawl on the bottom and "Dallon J. Weekes" at the top, and wasn't reading someone else's mail a felony?

Squinting through his glasses and making no effort to read it, Brendon asked, “What is this?”

“A letter from the curator of the creative writing contest. I didn’t win or anything, I’m not that good, but I got honorable mention so they’re gonna publish it in this online newsletter or something. She said it’s a big deal considering how many people entered, but she also said that I should consider applying to creative writing scholarships because I have a fresh perspective and interesting views, apparently.” He rocked back and forth on his heels with the excitement of a child being told he'd received straight A's on his report card. Stupidly proud, despite his masquerade as a boy who didn't care about such an achievement, but if Brendon knew anything it was how to see through falsities.

Eyebrows skipping in surprise he turned back to the paper, racing over the words with fervor and reading words that matched Dallon's as he hovered over Brendon's shoulder and reread a letter he'd already read six times today. Dallon was good at self-doubt, had found it welcoming throughout the years despite everyone's belief in him, despite Brendon's belief in him, but crystal blue eyes were shining with pride because his words had reached someone, at least, or more than just someone, all things considered. Brendon jumped up, leaving the letter on the table and enveloping a grinning Dallon in a hug.

"This is amazing, Dallon, congratulations. I'm so proud of you.” He pulled away to look him in the eye, prouder than Dallon of himself. "I didn’t even know you wrote the story yet! You didn’t even tell me you started it."

Dallon wrapped his arms around a smaller body, hoped his gratuity reached him where their chests were sewn together. "Yeah, the due date was a few days ago and I didn't wanna say anything until the contest ended. Something about the way you put me on a pedestal." He pulled away with a smile, joking but not really, and Brendon tsked like it were ridiculous because it was.

"Please, as if anything could make me question your brilliance." Brendon challenged, poking him in the chest and smiling when Dallon's eyebrow went up daringly.

Brendon had only known Dallon for a short period of time, a period of time where he got to know both he and his art but not often his writing. Simple short stories submitted in English class, maybe, and once their sophomore year Brendon was staying after to make up a test and caught sight of one of Dallon's creative writing assignments on the teacher's desk. But she had gone to make copies, and it really wasn't his fault if it was just sitting there on the top of all the other assignments, waiting to be graded. Maybe it was a little bit his fault if he took a picture to read it on the bus ride home, but he'd take that one to the grave.

"You're talented, Dallon." He added, because he wondered if maybe he hadn't heard it enough.

"Thank you." He sounded disbelieving, and then again, maybe he was. "And thank you for encouraging me to do this in the first place. I was worried about the outcome but I'm happy that I did it, and I never would have if you didn't give me that little bit of faith in myself. I think it’s good to push each other to do stuff out of our comfort zones.”

Brendon nodded, sketched in sincerity. "I think so too."

“And hey, since you inspired me to do all this, I want you to read what I wrote and give me feedback," Dallon added, twisting to unzip his backpack hanging off one shoulder and digging through the organized mess to locate a thin stack of papers, stapled together and baring truth. Brendon accepted it, not knowing what to say, staring at the title, The Placebo Effect, bolded above Dallon's full name. "Be totally, a hundred percent honest, if you hate it then be brutal but let me know why. I value your opinion. It’s pretty short so it shouldn’t take long to read, but take your time, please, and let me know when you’re done.”

"Yeah, I will. And I’m sure I’m not gonna hate it. But thank you, this is really cool.” He set the papers down on his vacant table and in return, handed him back the letter. Dallon accepted it, trying and failing to hide his excitement, and Brendon punched his arm, making Dallon smile wider. "You might want to frame this, literary genius.”

Dallon laughed modestly, wearing a quiet blush at the attention. “My mom will make me, anyway. I’m gonna go talk to Mr. Murphy, tell him the news, but I’ll see you in a little while, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Brendon agreed, and they exchanged smiles while Brendon reclaimed his seat. He tucked the papers underneath the cover of his math notebook, due in an hour, and looked between the two before he let out a sigh and got back to his equations.

Sitting in the back of the class in astronomy, Brendon stared out the fourth floor window and at the mountains in the distance as he tapped his pencil against his textbook, listening to his teacher greet the students filing into the class. Ryan took the seat next to him, nodding a hello and saying nothing as he retracted his things from his bag, but Brendon was preoccupied, watching clouds move sparingly as he tried to make out shapes.

"Today, we're going to be talking about Europa." His teacher announced, and that was his cue.

He slid the paper out from its hiding place and made sure he wasn't being watched as he placed it strategically in his textbook, the pages pristine and neatly printed just for him, and this was different than a short story he'd stolen an unsolicited peek at a year ago when the most interaction they'd had was an awkward smile or two in the hall after catching each other in a few compromising positions, tears in the bathroom and avoiding everybody else in the nurse's office. It was more honest than thievery, it was Dallon's brevity, handed to him with a trust he didn't even know he had.

The Placebo Effect

Dallon James Weekes

Brendon ran his fingers over the page, eyes absorbing word after word of Dallon's soul as his teacher droned on and on about Jupiter's moon and he tuned him out. For a long time Brendon had known of Dallon's talent, declared it before they had ever spoken, but the words laid out in front of him bled truth in that belief. They were raw and truthful and honest, tear jerking and brutal and haunting. It was about living and not living, how cheating death meant discovering what it was like to find yourself in the way you truly wanted to live. About self-destruction and the desire to change, about how he lost himself and was never found.

Brendon flipped pages inconspicuously when his teacher wasn't looking and chewed on his bottom lip, taken aback by the lachrymosity of his experience, how he described walking through a thunderstorm as seeing the world in its most natural state, how the smell of petrichor after he’d run away from home only to walk fifteen miles in a thunderstorm from midnight to dawn introduced a feeling of hope, if only for a fleeting second, just three months after the worst day of his life. Brendon was captivated by his story, by his life, and for a moment it felt like he didn’t even know Dallon.

By the time class ended Brendon had reread the story three times and tried to make sense of things he didn't know. He played with his seatbelt in the passenger seat of Dallon's car, listening to him talk about something that had happened in health class though his mind was elsewhere, drifting from word to word of Dallon's truths as he nodded along to a story he wasn't listening to.

It was like he carved his heart out and turned it in, leaving a bloody stain in the shape of his soul on the paper. How could somebody so enigmatic and secluded be so... candid and veracious?

While Dallon set his bag down on his desk chair and unzipped it, Brendon climbed into his bed and made himself comfortable where all of his pillows were congregating behind him. Dallon pulled his English binder out of his neatly organized backpack, had plans to work on an essay, but Brendon didn't move, just stared at him and wondered what he looked like with rain soaking his clothes in the middle of a storm.

“Hey, homework can wait.” Brendon tried when Dallon began to carry his things to his bed. He stopped in his tracks to give Brendon a look, an eyebrow quirked, but Brendon's motives were innocuous. “Seriously, I don’t feel like doing homework right now. We just got out of school. Let’s take a break.” He extended a hand and wiggled his fingers invitingly, batting his eyelashes adorably and irresistibly. “Come talk. I wanna talk.”

Dallon rolled his eyes at how easily Brendon could get what he wanted from him, but gave up and dropped his binder on his desk while Brendon clapped in success and scooted over to make room. Dallon plopped down on his side, and just as easily Brendon mirrored the position, resting a hand on his arm.

Dallon tilted his head, watching Brendon watch him as he rubbed his arm up and down, both quiet because neither knew what to say. Brendon felt sometimes like his words would never amount to anything that Dallon's did.

“I read your story.” He said in a whisper, quiet without intent though the words still felt loud, saying something more. He didn't read that story. He felt it. He breathed it.

Dallon’s eyes lit up, tensing under Brendon's touch as the boy squeezed his bicep. It was nerve-wracking, his work upon the eyes of someone so prone to judgment, but Brendon was smiling, beaming, even, and it was life changing. View changing. Mind provoking to a boy who didn't typically feel that way in any regard. “You finished it?” Brendon nodded. Finished it four times, to be exact. “What did you think?”

Brendon took one of his boyfriend’s hands in his own, toying with his fingers under big brown eyes though blue ones stared at his face, and Dallon could pretend he wasn't anxious and excited and proud, could brush it off like it were nothing though they both understood its gravity. “It was fucking incredible, Dallon." He admitted, and Dallon exhaled like he had relieved him. "I knew you were talented, but wow. I had no idea that you could write so well about something so personal. I mean, the way you look at life, everything you wrote about, I seriously felt like I crawled into your mind and read your thoughts.”

Dallon giggled modestly, dipping his head to hide his blush. He hadn’t expected him to be so enthusiastic about a couple thousand words he’d initially written just for a contest. “Thank you, but it wasn’t that good.”

“No, it was! It was, I swear I almost cried. I would have if I wasn't reading it in class. Talking about your dad and the way your life changed and how you coped, it was so... openhearted.” He could go on and on about how impressed he was with Dallon’s raw talent and caliginous story, but nothing he said would do it justice. Dallon was immensely, fatuously talented. Brendon had known, but this was a separate level than corporal art. This was baring his soul in more visceral honesty.

“I didn’t really think about it, you know? I didn’t know what to write about, but then I started scribbling stuff down and I just wrote what was on my mind. I was thinking about how when my dad died, I tried everything to try and make myself feel again. Doing stupid, dangerous things like driving through red lights and walking on railroad tracks and... well, I’ll spare you the details that I didn’t write about, I don’t like getting into it. But I wanted to talk about that experience, because even though it was hard, I needed it to move on. I wanted to write something different. Like we talked about at the theater, people don’t wanna see gruesome and realistic. I wanted to change that.”

Brendon nodded vigorously and tightened his grip on Dallon’s hand, overcome with enamor. “I totally got that. It was just... honest. I understood it in a way I didn't even know I could. And I was thinking about what you said, about how you think your words don’t matter. You know?” Dallon nodded, and Brendon slid his hand up to rest on the side of Dallon’s neck, pushed his thumb against his cheek and slid it over smooth skin, watching the way Dallon’s eyes fixated on his own. “They do. They matter to me. Probably more than you'll ever know. It's like... I feel like there's so much I don't know, and so much I want to. And there are a lot of things that are hard to talk about, at least for me there are, and I don't know a lot about your life before me but I know it wasn't easy. It probably still isn't. And this reminded me not to make assumptions about you, and it promised me that I would learn everything someday, and I feel like I understand you a little better and that means more to me than anything. You’re amazing, Dallon, and I meant what I said on our first date. My favorite thing about you is your mind, and this... I’m so proud of you.”

Dallon’s face broke out into a grin and he leaned forward to catch Brendon’s lips in a messy kiss. Brendon giggled at his avidity and shifted closer, tilting his head, touching his face. Dallon was bad at saying thank you and Brendon was accepting the gratuity anyway.

Brendon knew neither of them would let it go any further but it was nice, for a second, to be alone and not worry about the world around them. Because kissing Dallon was his favorite thing sometimes, gentle and sweet or laced with smiles and clumsy infatuation, and they belonged to him and Dallon only like a secret neither of them would dream of exposing, like a promise they would never dare break.

“Thank you, Bren. That’s really sweet. Writing it just kind of reminded me of the worst time of my life, and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to convey that message because of how personal it was. It took a lot out of me. It was hard. But I’m glad you liked it, though, I like when you analyze me. It makes it all feel worth it.”

“Oh.” Brendon tilted his head. “I like analyzing you. Or your art, that is. I have boundaries.”

“I know you do,” Dallon promised, nudging his arm with his index finger knuckle and tracing it upwards toward his neck. Brendon smiled, already felt intrusive enough, wanted to know everything but was too afraid to ask.

“Good. I don't wanna push it." Brendon tilted his head against Dallon's hand with enamor and smiled to himself under crystal blue eyes that watched adoringly. "Could we nap? I'm really tired, and I pinky swear we can get some homework done after, but you look tired too, and I can't focus when I'm sleepy.” He batted his eyelashes.

“Yeah, Urie, you don't have to flirt.” He shoved Brendon's shoulder and Brendon giggled, squirming around to get under the covers as Dallon pulled up his comforter. “Yeah, I’m exhausted.”

“Me too.” With that, Brendon slid his hands under the covers and unbuttoned his jeans, making Dallon freeze up and shift back on his elbow uncomfortably.

“Um, what... what are you doing?” He sputtered nervously, eyes flickering from Brendon's face to his hands.

“I’m wearing jeans. Not sleeping in jeans. Nothing more.” Brendon excused his behavior while he tugged the denim over his thighs and wriggled around to pull them off. Dallon sighed in relief, leaning back down against the pillow, and Brendon knew not to take it personally. “Sorry.”

Dallon shook his head and settled back down while Brendon tossed his jeans over the side of Dallon’s bed, leaving them forgotten on the floor. “No, it’s fine. I’m just...”

“Not ready. I get it.” Brendon folded his arms and tucked them underneath his chest to keep to himself. “I’m not either. I just wanna be comfortable. I’m comfortable around you.” He let his eyes fall shut against the gaze of his boyfriend, but he didn’t quite catch Dallon’s smile.

Dallon shifted onto his stomach and pulled his arms up underneath his pillow. “Aren’t you cold?”

“No. Your blankets are warm. You’re warm.” Brendon extended his leg toward Dallon’s underneath the covers and toed at the bottom of his pants until he pushed them up at the ankle. Dallon instinctively jerked his leg back, making Brendon squint his eyes open to give him a little smile.

“Your feet are freezing!” Dallon kicked Brendon’s calf with his own sock-clad foot, making Brendon giggle again as he kicked back with no malice.

“You’re a baby.” He mocked.

“You’re a baby.” Dallon retorted, and feeling bold Brendon nudged him with his foot again before he let himself settle back down.

“Shut up.” He muttered, though he was still smirking behind an invisible layer of exhaustion radiating off of him and reflecting off of Dallon.

“You shut up.” Dallon pushed a hand out from underneath his pillow to support his weight when he pushed up onto his side, reaching out to pull Brendon closer. Brendon hadn't expected it but smiled nonetheless when Dallon captured his body under his arm, oddly strong for somebody with barely any muscle. Brendon ducked his head as they exchanged body heat under the sheets, and Dallon pressed a kiss to the top of his head, not saying another word but not having to.

Brendon's eyelids felt heavy as he drifted off to sleep under Dallon's arm, with space between them but close enough for Dallon to breathe out little huffs of air against his forehead, more quiet of a sleeper than Brendon was though sometimes he was so tired that his body just shut down altogether, nerves fraying and heart slowing. He let the sound of Dallon's breathing lull him to sleep nonetheless, just loud enough to hear over the hum of the TV coming from somewhere next door and an airplane flying above, heading somewhere though tonight Brendon was happy right where he was.

When Brendon awoke the sun had set and sleep was lingering in his eyes. He scooted back and squinted through the darkness, at a sleeping Dallon with his bangs in his eyes and his arms tucked against his chest, and pushed himself up to sit, moving slow and trying not to wake him. Dallon had been tired lately, had denied it when Brendon asked though he could tell. Bags under his eyes, yawning in the middle of class, and he wasn't sure what was going on but there were things he didn't need to ask to know.

He made his way across the room and took a seat at Dallon's desk, resting his heel on the rung of the chair and turning to make sure Dallon was still sound in his bed. He just needed some sleep, was all.

Dallon just needed some sleep.

“I stood with my arms out and my head thrown back to feel the rain on my skin. It soaked unforgivably through my clothes but the warmth of August refreshed me in a way that I didn't know it could. The sky was a dusty orange and the rain barely let up, but for the first time in a long time, I felt free. There was no restraint, there was no feeling of pressure to act okay, look okay, pretend I’m okay for their sake, there was just me and the sky and the rain, in the world’s most natural state.”

Brendon’s voice cut through Dallon’s hazy dream and pulled him into consciousness, his dark bedroom with some unknown source of light, his bed with one body in it. He shifted up against the pillows and rubbed at his eyes, disgruntled, as he never napped for that long and certainly not to be awoken by his own words.

He glanced up in the direction of Brendon's voice and squinted to see him sitting at his desk in the dim light of his lamp, one leg folded over the other and stapled papers in hand. Dallon yawned, pushing a hand through his hair, and asked, “What are you doing?”

“That’s my favorite part.” He held up the papers like it were self-explanatory. “I just wanted to reread it. I slept away any remembrance of how incredible you were. I had to remind myself.”

“Oh.” He wiped his eyes and let out a little laugh, flattered, and extended his arms in a stretch as Brendon set the papers down. “What time is it?”

“Almost six.” Brendon watched Dallon raise his arms above his head, muscles flexing underneath his tee shirt, as he climbed out of bed and grabbed his glasses from the side table. He wasn't sure how long he'd been awake but he'd reread the story three times, trying to make sense of a past whose entirety would take a long, long time to unveil. “Your mom came in a few minutes ago to tell you that dinner is almost ready. I was gonna wake you then, but,”

“Yeah.” He yawned, nodding his head idly as he crossed the room. “I needed the sleep. I need food, too. Let’s go.”

“Sure.” Brendon got up to join him, cast another glance toward the papers on his desk, and followed him out of the room.

Dallon's mother was setting the table when they crossed the threshold of the kitchen, smelling of the spices Dallon's mother always used and warm from the stove as she had been cooking since she'd gotten home. "Hi, Brendon." She greeted as he went to grab the silverware from the counter, not having known he'd be over but not shocked as he spent most of his days here, anyway. "How are you?"

"Oh, you know. I'm alive." He shrugged, exchanging smiles with her while she pulled a pan out of the oven. "How are you?"

“I'm alright. Work is long. I'm glad it's getting warmer, though. This winter was a cold one. For Nevada, at least." She reached out for her son, grabbing him by the shoulder. "Hi Dals, how was school?” She kissed the top of his head as he greeted her with a half smile, still sleepy and rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses.

“Fine. Boring.” He shrugged, and she went back to tending to the food when he didn’t bother elaborating.

“Did you read Dallon’s creative writing essay?” Brendon asked, helping set the table while his boyfriend filled each glass with soda. Dallon’s mother looked up from where she was turning off the stove and nodded, letting her gaze linger on her son while she turned to set the food on the table.

“I did.” She said, oddly stoic, and Brendon placed the forks out for them, not quite catching it. “I take it you did too, then?”

Brendon nodded, still thinking about it more than he’d admit, and went to poke Dallon in the side. “He’s so talented.” He cooed, more or less a bragging boyfriend, and Dallon swatted his hand away when Brendon giggled and tried to tickle his stomach like he was a puppy.

“Stop.” Dallon insisted, smiling nonetheless, and captured Brendon in a hug as Dallon’s mother watched. “You’re just saying that cause you have to.”

“No I’m not. I wouldn’t be with you if you weren’t the most talented boy on the planet. I’m shallow.” Brendon peeped, and they looked at each other before Brendon giggled and Dallon rocked him back and forth, squeezing him tight and smiling at his childishness.

“And the honorable mention means that you’re going to be getting published, yeah?” She asked, though something in her tone suggested she knew.

Dallon looked at her over Brendon’s head, almost daring in the way he challenged her to say something that maybe he wouldn’t want to hear. Or maybe something Brendon didn’t, either. “Yes.”

“Huh. Okay.” She raised her eyebrows and Brendon pulled away, skeptical but not bothering to ask because he’d learned that Dallon and his mother had their own language, and Brendon didn’t know how to speak it.

“What?” Dallon asked accusatorially, and his mother stared back at him, confronted and shocked. Her eyes shifted toward Brendon and Dallon added, “You can say anything in front of him, mom, what?”

She shook her head regretfully. “Nothing, nothing. I just think that it’s a very personal thing to be putting out in the world. Your point of view and experiences.”

“Well, that’s kind of the point,” Dallon argued.

She was right: it was personal. It reflected a time in Dallon’s life where he was torn between being a good son and not being a son at all, teetering along the edge of gone and trying to find a steady tightrope to walk. It was reminiscent of an era where Dallon lost himself, his family, perhaps even his sanity as he searched the desert for something he never found again. A world that once belonged to Dallon, now a distant memory.

Personal. Of course it was personal. All good art had to be.

She sighed, shifting her weight uncomfortably. Brendon was here, and... “I know, but...”

“You’re not happy for me?” Dallon asked, unusually distraught, and she shook her head like she hadn't meant to hurt his feelings, going to pull him into a hug in a hurry as Brendon stepped back and understood the hurt in his eyes.

“No, babe, of course I’m happy for you.” She rubbed his shoulder and Dallon hugged back, looking down at the floor despondently. “I’m just wondering if maybe something like this shouldn’t be out there with your name on it. After everything.”

“They wouldn’t have chosen it if it wasn’t good,” Brendon added, missing the point, but the support was still appreciated. “And besides, if people talk then let ‘em. We all have pasts. Dallon’s just making something of his.”

“That’s true.” She conceded and Brendon nodded, knew he had a point somewhere, and Dallon didn’t look at her as he took his seat and reached out for Brendon’s hand. Brendon smiled, enamored, as he moved into him when he captured his waist and wrapped both arms around his neck.

“Hey, no PDA.” Dallon’s mother interrupted when Dallon stole a kiss from his lips, and he only pulled away to stick his tongue out at her like a child because if she was going to treat him like one then he was going to act like one. Brendon giggled but let go of him anyway, Dallon got needy sometimes, and they exchanged smiles as Brendon took the seat beside him. “How was school, Brendon?”

“Oh, y’know. School’s school. Boring and long.” He tilted his head against his hand and smiled in spite of himself, not bothering to tell her about the shitty test grade he’d gotten back or the pop quiz in math. “How was work?”

“Oh, y’know. Work’s work. Boring and long.” She teased, and Dallon raised his eyebrows as if he wanted to roll his eyes, but Brendon giggled and shoveled food onto his plate. Dallon hated their camaraderie sometimes. “Have you guys eaten today?”

“Not since lunch at school. I’m starving. Thank you for feeding me.” He batted his eyelashes and she smiled as she took the seat across from him, leaving Dallon staring between them.

After dinner Brendon trotted down the hall like a child, half skipping until he made it into Dallon’s room. Dallon followed him with a half smile, Brendon was worth all of it, even when he didn’t know it. But living in bliss was nice sometimes, even for somebody like him, somebody so adept at wondering.

“Hey, what’s going on with you guys today? You and your mom?” Brendon asked, falling back on Dallon’s bed in exhaustion as his boyfriend closed the door behind him, flicking on the light. Dallon looked at him, and Brendon added, “You seem snippy.”

He shook his head like he should just forget about it, but Brendon didn’t do that so easily. “I just hate when she sees the bad side of everything I do.” Dallon sighed as he plopped down onto the bed beside him, bangs falling into his eyes. “Even I’m not that negative and I’m always negative. Even you’re not that negative and you’re the most negative person I know.”

“Your mom is never negative,” Brendon pointed out, and Dallon dipped his head to look at him, shifting on his side and searching Brendon’s eyes for a question because with him, there always was one. “So she must care about this. So what’s goin’ on?”

“She just doesn’t like when I get too fixated on my past,” Dallon explained though it was hardly an explanation, brushing a hand through his hair and making his eyes flicker up to blue ones. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure it’s nothing?” Brendon asked, curious to a fault, and Dallon ducked his head to kiss him, leaving a half smile in his wake despite his questions going unanswered.

“I’m positive it’s nothing. Wanna watch Dead Poet’s Society? It’s next on the movie list.” He pulled away to find his laptop and Brendon sat up on his elbows, watching him go.

“Uh-huh.” He nodded when Dallon returned, setting his laptop down on the bed. “We never did any actual homework, though.” He added when Dallon laid down beside him, pulling a pillow onto his lap.

He dipped his head to look at him, eyes sparkling in this way that they did, though Brendon couldn’t figure it out. “You’re cute,” Dallon said, and Brendon smiled, deciding that it could wait.

* * *

Van Gogh painted his Starry Night in a psychiatric hospital for his anxiety and depression, also diagnosed with bipolar disorder and an array of other illnesses. He was said to have seen the color yellow more prominently, a contradiction to what colors represent, as a man of such illness was never quite as bright as his art. And over the years researchers blamed his conditions on his love of absinthe but only he knew the truth, and his suicide left him with a legacy.

Claude Monet had a mood disorder and suffered from depression. And studies done around him showed that mental illness was a major influencer of art and the creative process, as Monet founded French Impressionism and was one of the most influential artists to date. Despite this Monet had attempted to drown himself, but eventually married and lived a long and prosperous life.

Edvard Munch suffered from depression and agoraphobia and experienced hallucinations and nervous breakdowns. Mental illness ran in his family but he claimed that his fear of life and his mental illness were necessary to fuel his art. Suffering was crucial to creation. And he also claimed that they were angels that cradled him, indistinguishable from his person, namely, a piece of him.

Frida Kahlo endured lifelong pain and suffering as she contracted several illnesses and lost the ability to carry a child. She overcame insecurity with a sense of individuality but spent her final days in a bed, painting self-portraits that illustrated her depression and pain.

Dallon Weekes was a boy that Brendon Urie was falling in love with. And Brendon didn’t know how to say it, only a few months had passed since he’d made confessions not on his own volition, but some things were undeniable.

Artists were more in touch with their emotions than those more average. Using these feelings to fuel their creations, they utilized fears and struggles and demons no one else would dare to use. And Brendon Urie didn’t know as much about Dallon Weekes as he had once thought, but he knew enough to know that everybody had secrets, and Dallon was not annulled from that. The thing was, Brendon was a curious boy, and he wanted to know things he shouldn’t.

When Brendon was young, younger than the age of his materialized fear, he had been inquisitive, though that quality had only become more prominent now that he had grown and been introduced to the world. And that world held one Dallon Weekes, a mystery that Brendon wanted to solve. So maybe it was his history of reading the Boxcar Children books, or maybe it was just that he was clueless and didn’t want to be, but Brendon liked to uncover secrets even when they were hidden for a reason.

The lights in the living room were dim as Brendon wandered in, leaving his shoes and bag in the front room. Kyla was on the couch alone, only bothering to glance up to see it was Brendon and then looking away again. His parents must had been asleep already, Dallon had dropped him off pretty late, but they trusted him, and he trusted himself.

“Hey, Kyla.” He greeted with a sigh, making his way across the wood floors in his socks.

She nodded her head in acknowledgment. “Hi, B, what’s up?”

He shrugged, lingering at the end of the couch. He hadn’t realized how late it was, he knew he promised to get home at some point but his parents worked long days and he could have stayed at Dallon’s, anyway, if they didn’t feel like enforcing rules sometimes. But he wanted to spend the night alone tonight. He needed room to ruminate.

He yawned, as if thinking about the time made him more tired, though with the nap he was plenty refreshed, watching his sister type something on her phone aimlessly and squinting through the dark. “Hey, I have a dumb question." He took a seat in the corner of the couch and she quirked an eyebrow. "Have you heard of the placebo effect?”

“Uh-huh.” She looked up from her phone to meet his eyes, staring back at her and trying to read things he didn't know how. “We talked about it at school once. Something people think is real but isn’t.”

“Yeah. Like a trick, right?” He curled up on the couch, reaching out for a throw pillow to hug to his chest. She nodded and he made a noise of acknowledgment.

“Right. Why? You haven’t been experimenting, have you?” She asked, in that mindset that their mother always had, worrying without a reason. He was the youngest and it was what they did, but he was just asking questions, was all. There was no use in attributing it to things it wasn’t.

“No, but I’m wondering if maybe Dallon has.” He said blatantly without thinking and Kyla looked at him wordlessly, eyes big and distrusting. “I mean, not like he’s taking pills. Cause I don’t think he is. But he wrote this creative writing paper for a contest and today I read it and it was about how he used the placebo effect to deal with his father’s death, except it wasn’t, like, drugs. It was just... putting himself in danger. It’s hard to explain. I don't know.” He buried his face in the pillow.

“So his placebo was being dangerous, or whatever?” She asked and Brendon nodded, in so many words. He didn’t quite understand it either. “Well, the placebo effect is the result of using placebos. You can have a positive or negative effect of something that isn’t supposed to actually do anything. So what kind of result did it have on him?”

“I don’t really know. I don’t think he said so. He’s okay now, though, so maybe it worked, but then again how does something like putting yourself in death threatening situations ultimately end up benefitting you?”

“Showing him he has something to live for? I don't know.” She shrugged, and Brendon’s shoulders slumped. He had wanted to believe once upon a time that Dallon was a happy artist but happy artists didn't take leisurely walks on train tracks. They didn't stand in thunderstorms and play with matches and double dare death. So if Dallon wasn’t a happy artist, then Brendon wasn’t really sure where that left him.

He still had a chance. He just had to figure out how to prove it.

* * *

Brendon stared at his boyfriend from the passenger seat as the morning light glimmered in crystal blue eyes, watching the road though he could feel Brendon watching him. Brendon didn’t know why, exactly, as he had memorized the dip of his skin, the dimple in his cheek, his neat eyebrows and the curve of his lips. But something about Dallon had always caught his eye, back then and even now.

“What are you looking at, dork?” Dallon asked suddenly, and Brendon almost jumped in shock because he wasn’t expecting conversation. He settled back in his seat, tugging at the seatbelt, and Dallon smiled because sometimes he didn’t get it but then again, he didn’t need to.

“Nothing. You’re just really pretty.” Brendon reached out to poke his hand and Dallon smiled, turning to look at an unusually quiet Brendon. “The way the sunlight hits your eyes. It’s really interesting. I don't know.” He shrugged, looking away because complimenting him was always awkward.

“I’m glad I’m interesting looking to you, then.” Dallon laughed, bumping his fist against Brendon’s playfully.

“Not you. Just your eyes.” Brendon leaned his head back against his seat and smiled up at him, batting his eyelashes when Dallon looked at him. “I love your face.”

“Stop.” Dallon shoved him but tangled their fingers together. “You’re so cute.”

Brendon giggled. Dallon had written about his hardships, his journey through becoming broken, a world Brendon was almost scared to imagine. He told the story of a Dallon no one knew but Brendon wondered if, like all the others, that hardship influenced his creativity. He wouldn’t be necessarily surprised, as every artist had some genesis, but Dallon’s was one hidden from Brendon and Brendon didn’t like things he couldn’t see so much. It was why he didn’t believe in God, but Dallon always had been a fan of the unknown.

“You know, I have this thing where I really wanna find myself.” Brendon then said, leaning forward to turn off the heat and then the radio, playing something they played every ten minutes and Brendon was starting to get sick of. Dallon looked at him again, quirking an eyebrow, and Brendon knew it was silly, knew because he had spent years pursuing something that had no end, but still, he wanted to have hope that something could move his needle toward that prosperity.

He flicked on his blinker. “Doesn’t everyone?”

Brendon shrugged. “Maybe. But I’ve been thinking for like, years, that my major life goal is finding who I’m supposed to be. Cause everyone says you have to wait and you’ll find your identity but I don’t like the unknown. I don’t like this— this in between. I wanna skip all the waiting and wondering and just know who I am.”

Dallon smiled like it was silly but then again, maybe it was. Brendon expected things that weren’t easily expectable. It wasn’t just that easy, because every teenager hid behind being a teenager. That in itself was an identity. But how authentic was that? Thousands of people were hormonal teenagers afraid of change. He wanted to be unique.

“If only it were that easy.”

“Why can’t it be?” Brendon asked, because it seemed simple enough. If you kept looking for something, eventually you were gonna find it. Nothing could stay hidden forever. “I mean, didn’t you?”

Dallon shook his head, and Brendon just wanted to understand something. “Like I said, Brendon, I never found myself because I never looked. It’s not like a game of hide and seek. It’s a lot more complicated than that. You don’t just wake up and think hey, I know who I am. Your identity is something that seeks you out gradually, not the other way around. That being said, I don’t know if you ever really learn who you are. There are a million factors that play into your identity. This conversation now may affect you for the rest of your life.” He turned to quirk an eyebrow. “Trippy, right?”

Brendon tsked, smacking him on the arm. It made sense that everything affected him but did that mean he had to keep wandering around, lost, wondering what box he fit into? Brendon didn’t want to be assigned a place by the rest of the world. He wanted to find his own.

“You know how, like, I like to compartmentalize?” He picked at his blue nails and avoided the look Dallon gave him out of the corner of his eye as he nodded, turning onto a new road. “I don’t just do that physically. I do it mentally, too. I know that doesn’t make a lot of sense. But it makes sense to me. I kind of just take all of the qualities of someone or something, and I weigh them, and I put them in a mental box.”

Dallon was silent for a second, thinking, because he and Brendon were very different people. “Did you put me in a box?”

“I tried,” Brendon admitted, and only shrugged when Dallon caught his eye with intrigue. He wasn’t going to lie. For months he had tried to understand Dallon enough to fit him into a box but as Dallon revealed each time that he wasn’t what met the eye, Brendon got tired of trying to figure it out. Dallon was always going to be a mystery to him. Maybe he wanted it to be that way.

“So what’s the result?” Dallon asked, unbothered by his invasiveness but intrigued instead.

“Inconclusive,” Brendon said sheepishly.

Dallon looked at him and he shrugged again, because it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to just tell him what box he lived in. There was no fun in that. No chase. They liked to trick and tease each other. It was just that Dallon was doing all the tricking and teasing and all that entailed was admitting things that didn’t sound like Dallon until Brendon just stopped understanding.

“Is that so?”

Brendon nodded matter-of-factly and Dallon smiled to himself in that secretive kind of way because the Brendon he fell for was one who asked questions, tried to figure out things no one else did. And the thing was, Dallon was one of those things. Because he wasn’t easy. He wasn’t a snap decision or a noncommittal judgment. He was a longitudinal study, hopefully for years under a watchful eye.

“Well, I guess you can keep trying, then.” He shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“I intend to,” Brendon informed him, and it was the truth.

Dallon had written about the placebo effect but more importantly, he had written it as a comparison to his affinity for danger. An antonym for a useless coping mechanism. Or maybe not useless, considering the path Dallon’s own had taken him down, but more detrimental than beneficial despite its learning experience. And Brendon found himself wondering what his placebo effect was now that he had abandoned a lifestyle of danger.

Even more so, Brendon was wondering what his own placebo effect was. Fitting people into boxes? But that wasn’t coping. That was just him. Dallon fought with the world and the world fought with him, but Brendon had never screamed at the sky trying to find an answer. He just searched quietly, lots of questions asked, but never found what he was looking for. Maybe that was his problem. Maybe he needed to find a coping mechanism.

“So, I’m thinking about your creative writing assignment.” He added, pulling at his seatbelt again. “And I thought that you were like, this happy artist. Which kind of seems ridiculous now that I think about it. Because there are no actual happy artists, right? They’ve all got some sort of issue. It’s just a thing. So I tried to put you into that box but then I read your essay and I don’t know if that’s true anymore. I mean, it could be. I don't know."

“I think you’re right, Brendon.” Dallon agreed after a minute, tugging at his sweater sleeves. “I don’t think there’s such a thing as a happy artist.”

Brendon folded his arms, nodding slowly, and of course there wasn’t. Happy and artist were mutually exclusive.

That was what he was afraid of.

* * *

When you’re told to write a college essay, they want to hear about your greatest accomplishment or a changing point in your life. They want to read about adversity or the way you overcame an obstacle. So as people pleasers do, they write in circles about making a sports team despite how everybody said they couldn't do it or how they won some award against all odds or how they discovered themselves through these feats. There’s a prevalence in that prospect, discovering yourself, finding who you are in the midst of your teenage years where you feel isolated and alone and boxed in when everybody else is out, like you’re the only kid out there feeling the way that you do. That’s the kind of thing that the college board eats up.

I never found myself. I never had a moment of realization that I knew who I was destined to be. I never found myself, but I never tried looking. I never knew how to.

It's a question Google can't solve and you can't ask in a classroom and that God won't tell you when you're sitting in a pew. How do you find yourself? It can’t be as simple as the watched pot never boils theory; I’d spent forever neglecting my destiny only to find that that did nothing for me, as did the rest of the endeavors I'd set out upon. Regardless of my desperation I was still lost. The isolation felt permanent this time. My mother told me that it was the typical teenage angst like you see in the movies. But I didn’t want to put on black eyeliner and listen to sad music all day. I didn’t want to grit my teeth and cut my hair and scream at the world. I just wanted to know who I was meant to be.

When you’re fifteen years old, you’re just about ready to start living. Past the awkward prepubescent stage and the social impairment I’d been granted well into my middle school years, I was ready for high school to start and my youth to end. I’d been a kid long enough, I told my parents, I wanted to grow up. I wanted to be an adult, I wanted to do everything they did. And at the time it all seemed so black and white, the idea that adults have it good, unlike us children who are doomed to days between four walls and massed teaching with prison-like symptoms. So what, I was being primed with an education? I was fifteen. I was ready to grow up.

I didn’t want to grow up so bad when the phone rang in the middle of the night just two weeks after my fifteenth birthday with the news that my father was pronounced dead at eleven twenty-four p.m.

I thought it was a joke at first. I laughed, the way a child laughs when they don't actually get the joke. The way you laugh at half past eleven when you fell asleep doing homework again. I didn't get how it would be funny but I was tired. I had an excuse. I didn't mean to laugh. I didn't mean to not cry that night, either.

And suddenly, growing up didn’t seem like it was all that. I could learn to drive and stay out late and kiss strangers just for fun, I could go on dates or have sex or even sneak a cigarette, but at what cost? I didn’t have time to act my age because I was busy mourning. I had to figure out how to say goodbye, but how do you say goodbye to somebody who changed your life?

All those nostalgic feelings of hopelessness made a home in me again and suddenly I was the person I had hoped I would never become. I cried and yelled and cursed the sky for doing to me what I never thought could be done, but nobody answered. I wasn’t expecting a tap on the shoulder and an apology from God, but when I didn’t get one, whatever belief I had in Him bled out of me and was replaced with venom.

Days on end spent in bed with the lights out found itself becoming a habit, one I welcomed with open arms. I hadn’t known that when my father stopped living that I would too, but it was easier than putting on a brave face. I was broken, my spirit and my heart and my soul were all broken, and they were irreparable. I discovered that summer that living is worth nothing when you can’t do it the way that you want, and the way I wanted it was any way but this. I wasn’t living, I was skin and bone walking like a ghost. Trying to get by. Not succeeding.

Losing my childlike innocence, I found a way to get revenge. The world had strangled the hope out of me until I was left gasping for air and I was sick of suffocating. I vowed to find out if there was a God. And if there was I would knock on Heaven’s gates and ask why the hell He would do this to us. We went to church, we were good people, but He took my father’s life and so I would get revenge. How would He like it if I disobeyed?

A placebo is defined as a harmless pill, medicine, or procedure prescribed more for the psychological benefit to the patient than for any physiological effect. A substance that has no therapeutic effect. A test.

The placebo effect is a patient’s false belief that an ineffective treatment is working.

I decided to conduct my own experiment. Independent variable? My idiocy. Dependent variable? Whatever happened to me because I wasn't sacred anymore. And the placebo? Destruction.

I put myself in danger because I was angry. I was angry with the God I’d spent all my life believing in only for him to tear the most important thing to me away, I was angry at the world for letting it happen. I was angry at Greece for discovering the effects of alcohol and I was mad at a stranger for being partial toward it. I was infuriated that my father was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but I wasn’t mad at him. I couldn’t be. You can’t be mad at somebody who’s gone.

I wouldn't want to be, either. That’s a grudge that would be a hell of a lot harder to hold on to.

And as the statistics show, the placebo effect became real to me. Chaos was like a pill I hid in my back pocket to take when no one was watching because I needed it to get me through the day. Maybe it wasn't real but I needed it. I needed to ruin myself and tear myself down and let myself take the fall. If he couldn’t live, then I vowed to do it for him, for the both of us.

Cheating death became my placebo; it did me no good in the grand scheme of things, but I was choosing to live in the moment.

At some point it became fun. It wasn’t fair, I thought, that in the wrong place at the wrong tenth of a second my father was gone, but I could do whatever I damn well pleased and nothing would happen to me. I leaned over the railing of my eighth floor balcony, I played with matches, I forgot all about my seatbelt. Driving through red lights became an unbreakable habit and taking long walks on railroad tracks was cathartic. I disregarded all the rules and took the road less traveled by, as Robert Frost once wrote. Ironically, I never quite cared for him.

It just so happened that the road wasn't well paved, though I had grown to be a reckless driver, anyway.

And fleetingly I wondered if maybe it were a metaphor: at the end of what I had hoped wouldn’t be the road to decadence, there was something more for me. Perhaps I would find what I wanted at the end of the road like the light at the end of the tunnel, but all it earned me was a one way ticket to Regret, population me. The problem was that I still didn't know what I wanted. I couldn't bring him back. I couldn't change things set in stone.

With self-destruction came the desire to change, now more than ever. I was only fifteen and still waiting for who I was to knock at my door, still holding on to not being supposed to search for me. Though I thought I found me once, on a long walk through the forest in the middle of the night, but it may have been an apparition that had been tauntingly formed by these winds telling me to just let go.

But letting go was something I couldn’t bring myself to do. I was down spiraling and loving it. I felt in control when nothing else would give me such a privilege.

I had to wear a smile like a mask until I went home alone and let myself break down, always alone, finding that saying you're there for somebody who experiences loss is just a formality. Instead of finding myself like I was meant to be doing, I had settled on losing whoever I was once and for all.

I didn't need to search for me anymore because who I had become had to be enough. Who I was in what seemed to be another life was atrophied now and anyway, I liked living with calamity much more. In fact, it had become my best friend. My other ones didn't want me. And I thought for a second that I had actually found who I was destined to be: annihilative, detrimental, parasitic though everyone tried not to let it show.

Leaving my house each day, my mother told me to be safe. But was anything safe worth the drive? It felt more fun to be disastrous, and if only she knew at the time that I felt that way. She would have stuck me in some psychiatric hospital and never looked back. She would have resented me, her only son, because I was trying to make happen what had already happened to the other love of her life. She already lost her husband; she didn’t need to lose a son too. Still, I was fixated on letting my sorrow manifest itself in a massacre of whatever morals I had anymore. I found myself not caring because I'd end up dead too, anyway.

I was plagued with the thought that I needed to forgive and forget, but rebellion was like a drug and I wanted to keep using. I felt pleasure in putting myself in danger, I found peace in scaring the people who claimed they loved me. It was sickening, gut wrenching, unforgivable, but if they all resented me and I resented the world, it would be easier for me to be gone. Nobody would miss me and I would be done hating the world for what I couldn’t change.

But even after everything was said and done, cheating death had been proven as a coping mechanism, one I wouldn’t bury despite all the hatchets I had been meaning to, too.

August nineteenth marked three months since it happened, three months since the night we got the call, one still left in my mother's call history because she couldn't look at it long enough to delete it. Three months. And it felt wrong, more wrong than things had been for the twelve weeks that he had been gone, and I had a deep, visceral feeling in my gut that preceded what I had already known: nothing would ever be the same. And it wasn’t, and it isn’t, and it won’t.

The night before August nineteenth I snuck out of my mother and I’s lonely apartment in the middle of a storm. I’d seen the warnings on TV but nothing could equate to whatever hurricane was going on in my mind, I was so far past demolition that it had become a safety blanket. I was down spiraling again, and my tendency to flock toward destruction was gnawing at my bones until I was aching to get out. It wouldn’t be worse than what I had been going through, that was the only thought that was running through my mind as I left the severed comfort of my broken home.

I walked through the pouring rain for fifteen miles in the direction of the lightning, where the intervals of time between strikes had decreased and the thunder was louder than the cacophony of resounding voices in my head telling me to keep going, keep walking, forget what the world had done to me. I hadn’t slept in three months, I’d eaten barely enough to keep me on my feet, but I walked down a straight and narrow road from midnight until dawn, when I finally stopped to catch my breath. Miles away from home, I realized that I’d let myself become lost in my own resentment.

I stood with my arms out and my head thrown back to feel the rain on my skin. It soaked unforgivably through my clothes but the warmth of August refreshed me in a way that I didn't know it could. The sky was a dusty orange and the rain barely let up, but for the first time in a long time, I felt free. There was no restraint, there was no feeling of pressure to act okay, look okay, pretend I’m okay for their sake, there was just me and the sky and the rain, in the world’s most natural state. The earthy smell of dirt and rain reminded me, if only for a moment, that things would be okay.

Maybe it was a metaphor; that I braved the storm, but it didn’t occur to me at the time. In fact, only when I had called my mother from a payphone at a truck stop and was sitting in the passenger seat of her car did I think that maybe I could one day be okay again. I knew it wouldn’t be soon— and I was right about that— but I knew that when I came to terms with the fact that he was gone, whatever version of me that I had created would be too. And so maybe I’ve never truly forgiven the world, maybe I’ve never let myself stop to take it all in like I did that morning in front of the fresh Nevada sunrise, and maybe I never really found myself.

But instead, I found something much greater: I had spent so much time fixated on feeling something that I never stopped to think that that something didn’t have to be pain. I was numb and I needed some escape, that part is true, but feeling numb is better than not being around, it only took several nights lying awake and a handful of near-death experiences to know that much.

And so when I am asked to write about my greatest accomplishment or a changing point in my life, about adversity or the way I overcame an obstacle, I remind myself of my own dramatic downfall.

I never made any sports teams or won an award that I’m truly proud of. I never discovered who I was meant to be through teenage angst because mine had long since moved beyond what other people knew of. I never discovered who I was, but instead I discovered who I was not meant to be: a perfect liar with an inclination for decay. And as it strays from what is orthodox, I never was. Despite the Nevada sunrise and the fresh rain and the lightning I never found me, but I found solace in who I buried, myself and a grudge. I learned to stop searching, because everything happened when I least expected it.


	17. Chapter 16: A Strange Phenomenon (Unalike in Dignity)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the famous we actually get to learn something about Ryan chapter!

By the time lunch rolled around on Friday Brendon was exhausted, having used all his energy on a number of tests and quizzes before he was slumped over with his cheek in his hand at his usual lunch table. Dallon took his usual seat too, kicking at Brendon's foot under the table, trading a carton of milk and fruit punch because the lunch ladies never seemed to get it right.

Brendon never really liked April in the first place, but hated his birthday because he wasn’t one for attention. He’d been given enough attention, anyway. He made everyone promise not to make a big deal of it, but they all still whisked him out to lunch, smiling and laughing as they gave him a cake and sang at the top of their lungs in a restaurant downtown.

One day during the week Brendon sat silently in the corner of the couch with his feet kicked up and his eyes fixated on the TV screen across from him, saying nothing but watching Matt play some video game on TV while everyone else was asleep. They’d been quiet for a while, curious brown eyes watching the colorful game on the screen as Matt clicked his controller, the sound rhythmic now as Brendon's mind wandered, never diagnosed though thoughts were consistently incongruent.

“How do I know if I’m ready to have sex?” Brendon asked, not really thinking it through though it had been on his mind inconsistently for a while. Matt turned to look at him, surprised he would ask, but didn’t say that it wasn’t like him because to be fair, he and Brendon didn’t spend much time together, much less talk about their lives.

“Do you think you are?” He replied carefully, but Brendon shook his head. He thought that maybe he would be by now, having been interested in Dallon for so long, but it wasn't just Dallon. It was him too. They still had two feet set in the awkward stages of having a first boyfriend, couldn't even kiss properly yet, still blushed every time they touched each other's hands and giggled like a child when exchanging compliments. He wasn't a person that should be having sex. “So what’s it on your mind for?”

“I don't know. I’ve been thinking a lot about it. And I know just because I think about it doesn’t mean I actually want to do it, but Dallon is so sweet and considerate and I know I want the first time I ever do anything to be with him, but, like. I’m not there yet, mentally.”

“That’s okay, Bren.” He paused the game and directed his full attention toward him, making Brendon's eyebrows skip up. “You and Dallon have only been together for about a month and a half. And you’ve always made a pretty big deal out of waiting until you’re in love to sleep with anyone. It definitely takes longer than a month and a half to fall in love, yeah?” He nodded. “So take it easy! It’s good for you to try and figure out how you flow together physically, if you like how you feel with him, if he treats you well. And then one day you’ll look at him and think that you’re absolutely certain that you can’t live without him. One day you'll just know. It's as simple as that. That’s how you know you’re in love.”

Brendon’s eyes softened, not having expected such genial words from somebody like Matt. Somebody who used to throw him around for fun. Like he had aged in the way he had been once years ago, but Brendon never noticed that somewhere along the way, he had changed. Maybe not all change particularly had to be a bad thing. “Wow. Thank you.”

“Sure.” He smiled back and picked up the game again to unpause it.

“Is that how it was with Allie?” He asked as a second thought, picking at the skin around his nails and hoping that it wouldn't be too personal. But Matt just shrugged like it was just another conversation, and maybe it was for him. Brendon honestly didn’t know. He knew nothing anymore.

“At first, I guess. We were together for a while, you know? It’s high school. We’re seniors. I didn’t know what was gonna become of the future, but she’s— she’s planning on going to New York for school, Brendon. I can’t follow her to New York like she expected me to. I loved her a lot, and when you really love someone you consider that kind of thing, but I just... couldn’t. She wanted me to uproot my life with my job and my family and my friends so I could be in New York with her. I didn’t want to.”

Brendon frowned. “That’s a little screwed up, that she wanted you to chase after her.”

He shrugged like it was no big deal, but it was, and they both knew it. Brendon could never uproot his entire life for someone else. That was a decision two people made together, not a one-sided choice. “I mean, I get it. She wanted me around. And I wanted to be around her too, of course I did, but in the end it won’t go anywhere. I wanna stay here for school and be with my family and friends. I love Nevada.”

Brendon nodded as if to say right, sure. He loved Nevada too. Why would anybody want to leave their home? “What’s so great about New York, anyway?”

“Bright lights, big city.” He shrugged, but even then Brendon didn't quite see the big deal. “I mean, I love it. Everybody just goes where they need to go and do what they have to do and everybody is so independent. But after all it’s just a city. So is Sin City, y’know? Different parts of the world, but just cities.”

That was just it. They were just cities. He’d never been to New York; he’d never been to Boston or Chicago or Los Angeles or Pittsburgh. He’d actually never been outside of Nevada— save for Florida for Disney when he was much younger, but even then he could hardly remember. He was born and raised in Boulder City and he had no plans to leave. Not when he had everything he wanted right here. After all, cities were just cities; what mattered was what was in them.

“I don’t think I could follow a boy across the country,” Brendon concluded after thinking about it for a minute. That was a big step. A big decision.

“Good. Then you’ve got a little bit of the Urie individualism.” Matt reached out to punch his knee playfully and added a bit more seriously, "So you and Dallon are getting serious then, huh?"

He laughed quietly though there was nothing to laugh about and looked away, down at his thighs and the drawstrings on his sweatpants. They were getting serious. That was a scary realization.

“As serious as a relationship can be at less than two months, right?” He tried to joke about it, but everyone could tell. He was crazy about Dallon. Looked at him like he'd hung the stars because, well. He did. It was silly to think that a high school relationship didn't have an expiration date but he couldn't help but feel like it didn't.

“Well, it takes time, but you’ve always been one to put all your eggs in one basket.”

Brendon examined the look on his face, trying to read him. “Is that a bad thing?”

Matt shook his head, making him release a tremulous breath he hadn't known he was holding. “Nah. You’re young, you’ve been into him for a long time. Not to mention the fact that you two have been friends for a while. You know Dallon and you should know his limits, right? You know what you’re doing. As long as you’re careful and keep yourself in check then you should be good.”

“Oh.” He looked down at his lap. Maybe it was a good thing that he trusted with everything he had. A good thing but a scary thing all the same. The potential for failure. The probability that this would fall apart just like everything else always did, crumbling at their feet. What if Brendon trusted too much? He had no idea when too much was too much.

“I can see it, you know. What you feel for Dallon. It’s in the eyes,” Matt said suddenly, quietly, and Brendon peeked up at him in shock.

These kinds of conversations were only ever held during the hours of the night that were never given any other meaning, a strange phenomenon considering all that Brendon labeled. It was always just them, nobody else around, nobody even awake to suspect it. Even the apparitions in the walls were resting, and it was just about the time where if Brendon were alone, his demons would start to rear their ugly heads.

But things like this flushed them out temporarily: deep conversations with his brother after hours when they couldn’t be accused of having them. They would be called out on it, accused of being sentimental with each other, playfully teased by their siblings. That was why they saved it for the hours that hadn’t been assigned roles, save for the one that Brendon had reserved for them: their hours. Just time for two brothers, unalike in dignity, letting each other in.

Brendon stared at his brother, not really knowing what to say. He never thought he had that. The I love you eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah. Your eyes get all sparkly whenever you see him or mention him or anything, honestly. I mean, I just said his name and you lit up like I told you you won the lottery.”

Won the lottery? Sure. “I did.”

Matt smiled and only averted his gaze away from the game for a second. “See? Shit like that. Don’t be worried about anything. You and Dallon are different. You have something real.”

Brendon looked away, suddenly warm. He was right. He and Dallon were different. He was comfortable with him. Happy. He could change everything. And he had already, and Brendon wasn’t really expecting it, but like a strike of lightning, these kinds of things came out of nowhere. Foreshadowed, maybe, but not entirely expected. Maybe he’d do what Dallon had whispered to him that day in his bed, under covers like they were still hiding: they’d fall madly in love. Right now, he knew it would happen. Sooner or later, it would. He and Dallon Weekes would be different.

By the time Friday rolled around again, exhaustion had successfully melted Brendon's cognitive skills until he'd grown tired of even holding a pencil. He was bored of school. He wanted to do something useful with his time.

Spending weekends together became routine, and they didn't outwardly say it but it was there. Just an aspect of their relationship that they had rolled in with all the others. It wasn't until right before lunch that Brendon grabbed ahold of his boyfriend's arm in the hallway to get his attention, making Dallon jump because in this school you never really knew. Brendon smiled sheepishly, he probably shouldn't sneak up on him like that, and asked, "Dally Weekes, what are you doing tomorrow?"

Dallon made a face. "I'm busy. I'm sorry." He apologized, but he never rejected Brendon on the weekends.

"Oh." Brendon looked down at his sneakers with a frown, not expecting a no. "Doing what?"

Dallon tugged him a little closer in the crowded hallway so Brendon tilted his head up, wrapping a hand around his arm. "I'm sleeping over Ryan’s; he and his girlfriend broke up. And they were together a while, so we're just gonna talk and eat a bunch of unhealthy food and stuff. It's a consolation thing."

"Oh. I get it." He hid his disappointment because he knew Dallon had to be a good friend but Brendon missed him, anyway, still stuck in the honeymoon phase.

"Unless you come too," Dallon added, and Brendon knew it was a pity invite, shook his head because he hated to be pitied. And anyway, he couldn't be that boy who followed his boyfriend around like a lost puppy because he lost all ability for independence.

He remembered what Matt had said, how he had some of the Urie individualism. But did he? Because he was growing restless without Dallon these days, hated being alone, and he knew he said he would never follow a boy but as soon as he and Dallon had become one, a little bit of his ability to be his own person had trickled out of him. His paranoia ate away at him sometimes, caught him when he thought it couldn't, but now he wasn't so sure it was just his anxieties working him again. Was he following Dallon around or was this just what it was like being in a relationship? He had never known. "No, it's okay. I don't wanna interfere."

"You won't!" Dallon insisted, maybe a little loud, because a few peers looked at him and Dallon lowered his voice again, aware they were in a sea of people who didn't exactly like them. "You're friends with him, Bren. And you should know my best friend. We've been dating for two months, as of tomorrow." Dallon insisted, snatching Brendon's hand.

"Oh, I forgot it was our two month anniversary. Er, not forgot. Slipped my mind." Brendon pointed to his head as if to say there was too much going on in there. Dallon nodded, understood Brendon was a mess sometimes. "Do you think he'd mind if I was there?"

Dallon grinned like a child in a toy store, making Brendon smile hopefully and follow him into the crowded, noisy cafeteria. "Let's ask him." He pulled Brendon toward their self-proclaimed lunch table where they'd begun to coexist months ago and Dallon dropped Brendon's hand to grab at Ryan's shoulders from behind. He jumped at the sudden presence, sitting alone while Tyler and Josh got their lunch, and turned to glare not so intimidatingly when Dallon took a seat across from him and reached out to bump a hand against his. "What's up?"

Ryan leaned forward to rest his cheek in his hand, his apparent anger forgotten as Brendon forced a smile at him and slid into the seat beside Dallon. "Oh, a lot. What's going on?"

"Nothing. I have a question. Or a request, actually." He gestured to an uneasy Brendon, setting his bag on the floor in front of his feet. "Can Brendon come tomorrow?"

Ryan looked at both of them and then settled his look of disbelief on a smiling Dallon while Brendon's own anxiety ate away at him. "He's right here, Dallon." He laughed.

Dallon grinned charmingly, and it was no wonder why people never said no to him. "Makes it harder for you to say no, huh?"

Ryan rolled his eyes but smiled at Brendon anyway. "Of course you can come. You don't have to get Dallon to ask for you. I like you."

"Oh, it wasn't my idea." Brendon gestured to himself awkwardly and then at Dallon, hated seeming so needy because he swore he wasn't. He didn't know Ryan well, or at all, really, just that he and Dallon were close and that he was one of two people Brendon had known Dallon to talk to. But they'd never spoken outside of Dallon, smiled at each other in the halls and in class but barely actually knew anything about each other. First impressions mattered, and Brendon tended to make bad ones. "But thank you."

"Yeah." He waved it off like it was nothing. "Tyler's gonna be there, actually, so, you know. You'll have him too. We're gonna get food and everything, and Dallon and Josh are gonna dote on me even though I'm fine."

Dallon tsked, pushing Ryan's hand and making him lean back with a smile. "Please, just let us dote on you."

Ryan smacked his hand away as Tyler and Josh plopped their trays down on the table and sat down in their respective seats. "Boys." Josh nodded, sitting down beside Ryan and nudging his shoulder.

"Joshua." Dallon kicked his foot underneath the table, accidentally getting Brendon's on its route back to his side, and Brendon hooked his ankle around Dallon's because it was more subtle than holding hands, anyway.

Tyler smiled at them all and pulled open his little plastic bag of carrots to throw one at Brendon. "Hi, baby Urie."

"Fuck off." Brendon grabbed the carrot that had hit his cheek and ended up on the table, whipping it back at him and deciding its fate when Tyler dodged it and let it fall back onto the ground behind him. Brendon would have scolded him for littering and making the janitor have to clean it up, but Tyler was already initiating a conversation and the carrot was long forgotten.

“And how are you doing this fine Friday morn?” Tyler inquired in a mock fancy accent, bowing like a gentleman.

Brendon shrugged and took the plastic bottle of chocolate milk that Tyler had gotten with his lunch. “Fine.” He twisted it open and took a sip without asking first.

He was about to ask for more information on the invite but when he saw Josh’s face distort into one of disgust and Ryan put his head in his hands not so secretly, he glanced over to look in the direction that Josh— and now Tyler and Dallon— were looking. He tried to be inconspicuous like them, but he wasn’t even sure what they were looking at until he caught sight of the girl that Ryan had been dating heading in their direction.

She looked a little timid herself as her friends blocked her, speeding up their paces when they passed their table. Brendon recognized her from all the times she’d been at Josh’s car in the mornings, laughing at something Ryan said, but no one was laughing now. Curious as to what had happened, Brendon wondered why they broke up.

“Bitch.” Josh huffed out, but Ryan reached out to grab his wrist, just subtle enough not to make a scene.

“Shut up, don’t call her that. She didn’t do anything. Just drop it.” He berated. Brendon watched the exchange with furrowed eyebrows and concern in his eyes, curious but not daring to ask.

When lunch ended everyone dispersed, speeding off to class before the bell. But Brendon was in no hurry and neither was Dallon, dreading a particularly boring lecture about a particularly boring book, so they started down the main hallway and in the direction of their English class, trailing behind their peers but not making any effort to push past them.

“What was that about? The thing with you-know-who?” He asked quietly, holding onto Dallon’s upper arm in the hall so they wouldn't get separated.

Dallon shrugged half-heartedly like it wasn't that big of a deal, but Brendon couldn't see how it wasn't. “As the best friends, we’re required to give her dirty looks and everything, but Ryan doesn’t want us to. I don’t think he has a hating bone in his body, he’s way too amicable to have bad blood with a girl he’s been dating for that long.”

"Weren’t you friends with her too?”

Dallon nodded and tugged Brendon toward the staircase. “Yeah, I guess. Kind of just because she was with Ry. Not on my own volition. That sounds bad, but I don't know." He shrugged again. "Long story. And anyway, it's not really a taking sides matter, y’know? He’s my best friend.”

“I get it.” Brendon followed him up the stairs and into the classroom, where Mr. Murphy was waiting at his desk, already ranting about something trivial neither of them caught. Brendon exchanged comical looks with his boyfriend, and the two of them claimed their assigned seats.

Brendon stared at him from the back of the room, getting in his head again. This would be good. An opportunity. He was going to take it.

* * *

Dallon picked him up that weekend, exchanging smiles and kisses on the cheek as Brendon threw his bag into the backseat. They went through the motions, Brendon buckling up and Dallon turning on one of his favorite CDs, as Brendon breathed out his anxiety.

“So, hey, I know that it’s like, our two month and everything, but would it be okay if we don’t really do the whole acting like a couple thing tonight?" Dallon started, the hesitance clear in his tone. "I know Ryan said that the breakup isn’t a big deal but I don’t wanna like, flaunt my relationship at a thing that’s supposed to cheer my best friend up.”

Brendon nodded, expecting it anyway because he would have said the same. Besides, he wanted to be respectful. He practically invited himself there. “I understand.” He reached over to take Dallon's hand for collateral.

Dallon pulled into Ryan's driveway, explaining to Brendon that Ryan’s mother wouldn’t be home, his little sisters out for the night and his brother away at school in Arizona until the summer. Brendon nodded silently, following him up to the front door, and as Dallon rang the doorbell he rocked back and forth on his heels until Ryan opened the door. Dallon pulled him into a hug and Brendon said hello, standing on his tiptoes.

Ryan smiled over Dallon’s shoulder at Brendon and rubbed his best friend's back, insisting, “Dal, you don’t have to treat me like someone died. It’s not a big deal.” He pulled away. “C’mon. Tyler and Josh are here already, we ordered food.”

The five of them sat in a makeshift fort in the living room, changed into pajamas and laughing at nothing. It was just so easy, feeling like he belonged, grinning as Josh threw fries at Ryan, who caught them in his mouth and accidentally kicked Dallon in the leg when he leaned back to catch one.

"You-" Dallon hissed, kicking him back and bursting out laughing again when Ryan shoved him away and grinned up at him, laughing too. Dallon sat back, his smile lingering, before his phone caught his attention. He turned to look at it and Brendon did too, but he picked it up before Brendon could see the caller ID. "Oh, I have to take this. I'll be right back."

Ryan tilted his head up as Dallon stood. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's Silo, I told him to call me this weekend." He placed a hand on Ryan's shoulder reassuringly before he headed toward the stairs.

Brendon looked between Ryan and Josh, feeling left out as they exchanged quick looks and Josh shrugged one shoulder. "Who's that?" Brendon asked before he could stop himself, hated being nosy because he trusted Dallon, but he was curious, anyway.

"Oh, an old friend." Ryan shrugged, turning back to the food in the middle of the circle.

"Dallon's therapist friend." Josh waved it off, going back to tossing fries at Ryan like it was nothing.

Brendon said nothing else as he watched them silently, wondering what he meant by that, though it wasn't any of his business. As he nibbled on his slice of pizza Dallon came back downstairs, a long five minutes having passed, ruffling Brendon's hair as he took a seat on the floor beside him; and then again, maybe Brendon didn't need to know everything yet.

* * *

Brendon laid awake that night, trying to trick himself to sleep. His body never let him sleep, and he was too wired, anyway. He stared at the ceiling, watching the flashing lights of headlights of cars passing by. It was past two, it had to be, and Brendon asked himself the harrowing question of why cars were out so late at night. Shouldn't they all be home sleeping? It was the suburbs of Boulder City, and there was no need to be out and about at such an ungodly hour.

Starting to get antsy, Brendon shifted in his place, scratching at his wrist and trying to find a more comfortable position though the floor was uncomfortable either way. But he was getting restless, and without thinking he called out in a whisper, "Guys?"

“Hm?” He got a response, and he looked up at the ceiling as if it would give him answers.

Brendon didn’t know what else to say, so he just asked dumbly, “Are you awake?”

“I answered you, didn’t I?” It was Ryan’s voice.

As they were head to head on the floor, Brendon rolled over onto his stomach to look at him at the same time that Ryan tilted his head back before he did the same. Pulling his borrowed pillow close to his face, Brendon whispered, “I can’t sleep.”

Ryan tilted his cheek into his hand and blinked tiredly at him, exhaustion clear in his eyes. “Me neither.”

“I keep thinking about why cars are driving by so late at night,” Brendon admitted. He thought it would be a smart thing to say, but at Ryan’s hazy smile, he suddenly heard what he said in his own mind and wished that he could go back and unsay it, embarrassed about his inner monologue.

But Ryan wasn’t mocking him, wasn’t being malicious, just smiled and admitted, “I do too.”

Brendon wondered fleetingly why they hadn’t become friends earlier. Because he had always had trouble opening up to people but Dallon's people were different. He didn't feel like he was an outsider here, even if he was. He didn't feel like a third wheel, so to speak, or like he was trailing at Dallon's feet. His own independence was something he didn't really fathom the prospect of sometimes.

Just as Brendon was about to give him some probably really stupid response, Ryan added, “Hey, I didn’t get the chance to tell you earlier that it means a lot that you came tonight. I know it’s kind of stupid to have a sleepover to make you feel better after a breakup, and childish and whatever, but it wasn't my idea. Josh is just like this and Dallon likes to make up for a lot of things. I know Dallon asked if you could come but I was hoping he would."

Brendon had almost forgotten about his dilemma, his potential for being a pathetic boyfriend that needed constant attention. But he felt himself smiling, almost, because maybe that wasn't true at all. Maybe he was just... learning through Dallon. Benefitting through him. Not taking from him. “No, um. It’s okay. I wanted to come. We’re friends, right?”

Ryan nodded. “Right.”

Brendon nodded too, unused to making friends, before he glanced down at his pillow and started picking at a little feather stuck in it awkwardly. “It was really nice of Dallon and Josh to do this for you.” He mentioned quietly, unsure of whether to bring it up though Ryan hadn't seemed opposed at all when she came up in passing. Dallon and Josh were just tiptoeing without reason, he guessed.

“Yeah, they’re good friends. I told them I didn’t need them to make a big deal out of it, but they love me and I know they wanted to make sure I’m okay. They insisted.” Ryan shrugged like it was nominal, meaningless, time with someone wasted. Brendon couldn't imagine. He plucked the feather out of the pillow and twirled it in between his fingertips aimlessly.

“Why’d you break up? With your girlfriend, I mean. I know it’s none of my business, but you said she didn’t do anything when Josh said that thing about her yesterday at lunch. If she didn't do anything then why would you break up? Did you do something?” Brendon asked, invasive to a fault though Ryan's reaction didn't read anger.

He sighed, playing with his hands while Brendon watched in the dark. “You know when you’re dating someone when you’re young and you spend all your time with them? Eventually you grow apart and realize that you want different things. And in some cases, different people. And it’s a high school relationship, you know? It wouldn’t have lasted much longer anyway.” He must had detected the sudden shift in Brendon’s eyes because he quickly added, “I’m not saying that you and Dallon won’t last. He’s crazy about you, I swear. I’m just saying that not every high school relationship lasts, and sometimes it’s just overcomplicated. We were complicated. I’m not mad at her and she’s not mad at me, as far as I know. It just... didn't work out.”

“So you just like, stopped liking her?” That was one of his biggest fears. Falling out of love; or worse, someone falling out of love with him. It made his chest tighten all of a sudden, thinking of the end, the end he prayed wouldn't come, and he didn't know if he and Dallon were on the same page, but he hoped that they were. He didn't want to be laying there at two in the morning, wondering what he did wrong. Or what he didn't do right.

“That’s part of the reason. I guess we just fell out of orbit. But don’t worry.” He reached out to place a hand supportively on Brendon’s wrist, and he hadn't known that the worry in his eyes was that obvious. “Like I said, Dal is crazy about you. You guys will be fine. Part of my relationship was that we both liked other people and it made it harder to trust each other.”

Brendon lowered his chin to rest it on the top of his hand. “Did you cheat on her?”

Ryan mirrored his position and shook his head. “No. I don’t have the heart to cheat. I just... I guess she wanted more and I couldn’t be the one to give her that. She's a hopeless romantic and I didn’t fit into that regime.”

“I’m the same way. Hopeless romantic, I mean. I was obsessed with fairytales and stuff. I know it's cliché, but I always wanted that. Dallon really has been that for me.” Looking up from his pillow, he met Ryan's eyes solemnly and tried to find himself in them. "I never thought I would be so happy in a relationship with someone I barely knew a year ago. Let alone someone in general. I never thought anyone would actually, y'know, like me."

Ryan shifted in his place and narrowed his eyes toward Brendon’s. Brendon carefully watched him back, waiting, an ulterior motive and words he wasn't saying. Something stoic Brendon couldn't decipher. With an unreadable look in his eye, Ryan asked in a whisper, “Can I tell you something?”

Intrigued, Brendon nodded. “Sure.”

“For the past few hours, I’ve been trying to figure you out, Brendon. We see each other almost every day but I know nothing about you. Nothing real, anyway. Dallon always tells me how great you are, but you don’t talk about yourself so I can't form an opinion yet.” He said it like it was some big mystery that needed to be solved, but the truth was Brendon had been doing the same with him. There was something different about him, Brendon couldn't put his finger on it but he knew. They had sat across from each other at the same lunch table for about five months, quietly analyzing each other and not saying a thing.

Quietly, Brendon admitted, “There’s a reason for that.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Ryan asked in that daunting way of his, a way that made Brendon scared not to answer. Brendon opened his mouth to speak but a shift in positions across the room made him aware that they weren’t alone.

This realization seemed to set in with Ryan too, because he shifted to sit up and then stood, reaching out for Brendon's hand. Brendon took it, pushing himself up, and followed Ryan down a dark hallway toward the kitchen, bare feet padding against wood floors and trying to map out a house he'd never been in before as the only source of light was coming from somewhere outside. Dropping his hand, Ryan went over to the counter and clicked on the overhead light, dimming the room enough to catch the brown in each other's eyes.

Brendon took a seat at the table and leaned forward to rest his chin on the top of his hands, palm down on the table and looking up to stare at Ryan. Ryan claimed the seat across from him and pulled his leg up to hug his knee, watching the way Brendon’s pupils widened to accommodate to the light or lack thereof. They looked at each other solemnly for a minute, unmoving.

“So, tell me about Brendon Urie. Give me the backstory.” Ryan requested suddenly, placing a hand on his knee and leaning forward to rest his chin on it, and Brendon couldn’t believe he was about to open up to someone he barely knew.

“Um, I'm not good at talking about myself. I guess you could have assumed that." He tried to laugh but couldn't. "Um. For like, maybe six years, I was scared of everything. It was bad; like... I cried at everything. There were periods of time where I couldn't leave the house. And I never used to open up to anybody, I was really shy and I didn’t tell anyone anything because I was too scared to. I stuttered every time I tried to talk, I was always terrified of being around anybody that wasn’t Tyler, y’know? We became friends when we were in fifth grade and I trusted him for some reason, but even then, there were times where we didn't talk for a while because I was freaking out over something again. I didn’t have any friends other than him. I don't really know how to explain it, but everything just... intimidated me, I guess. Especially people. I felt threatened by everyone, everything, it was even hard to be around my family. They were really worried about me. And they got me checked out but no one could figure out what it was. Made me go to therapy, I fucking hated it but I went anyway, cause I knew I couldn't keep shutting everyone out because I was scared. I came to terms with who I am, and I tried really hard to get myself together, and I got a lot better at understanding the world around me and trying not to be scared of it. I started telling my parents and siblings about my life, I got really close to them all, and then I started dating Dallon and I feel like it’s just really good for me.”

Ryan’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Shit. When’d it all end?”

Brendon pulled back and started chewing on his thumbnail. “Um, last summer. I got a little better in high school; I kinda had to. It was a new place, but I was still the weird nerdy kid with the nail polish and shit, and then I came out publicly sophomore year and everybody had a reason to bully me. That was shitty for the part of me that was still scared of everyone and everything around me. But Tyler still put up with the weird trying to find myself phase, you know?”

“Yeah, shit. I had one of those. I pierced my ear and dyed my hair darker.” Ryan was half smiling when Brendon met his eyes.

“I remember that. I thought it was cute.” He reminisced, smiling back warmly, and before Ryan could respond he added, “I was still really scared my freshman year, but everybody is, right? Small fish, big pond, that's what everybody said. But then I opened up to Ty and told him everything— like, every single fear I had, every thought, I told him what I wanted to tell my therapist but was too scared to. And after I came out to my parents when I was thirteen, I sorted everything out. Kind of. I’m still trying to figure it out.”

“Well, that's not a bad thing, you know. I am too. We all are. I mean, we’re teenage boys, we don’t have to have it all figured out yet.” He reached out to punch Brendon's wrist playfully and the boy nodded in agreement, because he was right, Brendon didn't have anything figured out anymore but he still liked to think he did.

Brendon sat back in his chair, and he couldn't believe that he just told him all of that. Not even Dallon knew that he’d gone to therapy. It wasn't something he was deliberately trying to hide but it was a fragment of his past that had been a staple of who he never wanted to be. Who he hated and swore he'd never see again.

Brendon never found it in him to talk about that part of his life after he had killed it. When he cried at the sound of the garbage truck and lashed out at his family for no reason, barely spoke to his siblings or anybody around him. When he had to sit in a therapist's office every week until he could admit that something was wrong. His first session was spent not speaking, too scared because every word seemed wrong, and someone was going to judge him, and he couldn't take criticism. He was scared of her, too.

But he wanted to get better, he had to get better, so with reluctance he let her reach into his mind and pull out all the bad thoughts for them to examine together. Explained that there were bad things but there were good things, too, and he didn't have to be so scared because experiences were experiences all the same. It took him far too long to realize it. Maybe he was still realizing it.

Brendon criss-crossed his legs, his gaze locked on Ryan’s, watching carefully. “So, what about you? Tell me about your past.”

Ryan half smiled and quirked an eyebrow at Brendon suggestively, intimidating though Brendon wouldn't admit it. Ryan scared him. Everyone did, but... Ryan did, especially. Because like Dallon once had he seemed untouchable, but in a jaded way, not in the way that Dallon was. Dallon was full of light, almost, and Ryan just... wasn't. It wasn't because Brendon was threatened by everyone. There were just those people that looked daunting enough to be threatened by, was all. “You really wanna know?”

Brendon nodded insistently. “I shared mine, you share yours.”

Ryan exhaled quietly, but he folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head back in thought nonetheless. “You’re gonna regret it, but alright. Um, I know Dallon told you about my family, yeah? About my dad and shit?”

“Yeah, he did."

“Um...” He tilted his head to meet Brendon's eyes formidably. “I was seven, the first time he hit me. It was over something stupid, like a bad grade or something, I don’t remember. But he hit me. My sisters were little, but they were there. So was my older brother. And I thought it was a one time thing, that’s what he said, and he said the same thing a month later when he did it again. But that was normal for me.”

Brendon’s heart dropped into his stomach, and he didn’t even know what to say. “Ryan.”

“Yeah.” He let out a quiet half laugh, and Brendon couldn’t help but wonder. Here he was talking about his past, smiling like it was something to laugh about. Smiling like he wasn't abused. “I was ten when he threw a glass bottle at me. Ten stitches, right here.” He pushed his hair to the side, right above his right ear where underneath the straight brown locks was a barely noticeable scar. “And when I was eleven, he grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back until it snapped. I had to wait for my mom to get home two hours later before she could take me to the hospital. I stayed the night. But she believed him when he told her it was an accident, and he was too drunk to be a real father and care for us, she was too in love with him to care. I don’t know why he hated me most, but he never did any of it to my siblings. Just me.”

Where Brendon’s heart had fallen into his stomach, he heard it break, and suddenly he wanted to puke it out. “Oh my god. That... that’s terrible.”

“Yeah. He would get drunk and accuse my mom of cheating and of being a slut, he’d yell at her and then take all his anger out on me. I was his punching bag, y’know? He knew no one would believe me if I told on him. And my siblings were too fucking scared of him to do anything about it. If they stuck up for me, he could do something to them too. I made them promise not to say anything. I put their safety before mine.”

“So like... what happened?”

“Um, when I was thirteen, my mom walked in on him beating me. He was holding me against the wall by my neck, I swear I was seconds away from a lung collapsing. She filed for divorce, and after he blamed it all on me, she got a restraining order and he moved out. I saw him once when I was fifteen but I haven't talked to him. I don't want to."

Brendon furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head, fingers placed gingerly on his neck, reminiscing. He didn’t know what to say, never knew of his past, never even wondered if maybe there was a reason he was the way he was.

“I guess we all have our skeletons,” Brendon whispered finally. Ryan carded a hand through his hair, nodding, and Brendon couldn’t tear his gaze away from the scar. How could somebody do that to their child?

Ryan was looking at him with this unreadable look in his eye and Brendon was still scared of him, he realized. The artificial light caught light brown eyes and Brendon watched them flicker like he was some all-seeing orphic, and maybe he knew something Brendon didn't. “Can I tell you a story, Brendon?” He asked quietly, breaking a tight silence in the air between them.

And then again, he definitely knew something Brendon didn't. “Sure.”

He swallowed; Brendon could hear it in the silence of the dimly lit kitchen just a room away from where their friends were fast asleep, unknowing to the words exchanged between the two. “The first time my dad hit me, I went to Dallon to tell him about it. I did the same the second, and the third, and the hundreds of times after that. I cried in his arms for hours the night my dad left my mom. I finally had the freedom to cry without having to go home to be hit, because he used to tell me that only faggots cry. He could tell because I had that just-cried look on my face.”

Brendon nodded timidly. “I know the look.”

“Yeah. He was finally out of my life, and I was happy. But I also realized that I was never gonna get... that. That perfect family. A father who comes home from work and greets his kids with hugs and who takes us on vacations and says I'm proud of you, son, when I do something right. I realized that this stupid fantasy I had been living out in my head, hoping for, it was never going to come true. Everything is bittersweet. And Dallon was always this stupid dreamer too. Had all these hopes and dreams and expectations. It was all we talked about when we were kids. We would sit on the roof of his apartment and look at the mountains and talk about how one day the world was gonna be ours. And so I went to him, and I cried because this dream was never going to come true, and he was the one who was there for me. He used to... let me stay over his house on nights that my mom wouldn’t be home. My brother was his pride and joy, he’d never hurt him, and my sisters always spent those nights with our grandma, but I was just with Dallon. There were days I couldn’t get out of bed because I was in so much pain.”

He didn't even know what to say. “Oh, wow.”

“Yeah. But Dal took care of me.” He shrugged half-heartedly and looked Brendon in the eye so intimidatingly that he could have sworn he was trying to pull his soul out to look over like the fine print no one ever cared to read. "Listen. He and I have been through a lot. And I swear to you, Brendon, he'll be there for you no matter what. Despite any mistake you make. No matter how bad you hurt him. We've hurt each other a million times. We... we both almost ruined our friendship but he's still here. It says a lot about him that he could forgive everything that's happened between us. His actions speak volumes about how much he loves. He's a good, good person."

Brendon's heart sped up and he pressed his fingers together. "What happened?"

Ryan shook his head, smiling at him like he was reminiscing. "A lot happened after his dad died, Brendon. A lot came with that loss. There were parts of him that were killed too. And parts of him that didn't exist before. You'll learn everything one day. I promise. It's not my place to tell you. It just... it takes him a really long time to open up to people. Give him time, okay? He's worth it."

Brendon nodded like he was hearing it from a parent, obeying rules exigently set. Of course Dallon was worth it. "I will."

"Good." He leaned in close again, making Brendon focus in on his eyes like they were about to tell him everything. “I love him so fucking much, Brendon. I love him more than I know how to love anybody. He is one of the only people in my life that has been here for me throughout everything. Despite everything. You literally could not be in better hands.”

Brendon looked up at him to see blatant sincerity, and maybe he wasn't telling him everything but he was telling him enough. “You think?”

“I know.” He insisted, and it made Brendon feel a little better about all the underlying fears hiding in his chest, ready to crawl out at any given point. He trusted Dallon. Of course he trusted Dallon.

"Can I ask you something?" He asked, and Ryan raised an eyebrow to say go for it. "Should I be worried? About not knowing everything about Dallon? Like, his friends outside of us and whatever happened with you and everything about his past? Because... he hides so well. And I can't be that person who doesn't trust him, and I don't want to be, but... I wanna know. It's stupid and unfair but I wanna know."

"You will, Brendon. Like I said, it takes some time. And no, you shouldn't be worried." He insisted, knowing more than Brendon did and with good reason. But Brendon stared back at him, trying to find the good in that, because there were a million things to learn. He didn't need to know them all now.

“I like talking to you, Ryan.” He told him before he could stop himself.

Ryan tilted his head to the side, half smiling in that arcane way that Brendon couldn’t figure out. “I like talking to you too, Brendon.”

* * *

He held Dallon's hand in the car the next morning as he drove him home in silence, thinking about his night. How he could feel some sort of connection that hadn’t been there before. Some sort of honesty earned in those hours that had yet to be assigned meaning, the ones he shared with his brother too. Hours that typically meant nothing, but Brendon was coining them as the most important ones.

"Hey, Dal?" He turned to look at him, tracing an invisible line on his hand with his thumb. "Yesterday, your friend who called you... who is that?"

"Oh. Silo. He lives in Mesquite. He's an old friend. Every once in a while we talk on the phone when a lot's going on, it's like... I don't know how to explain it. One of those friends. We don't talk every day, but we're close."

"Oh. Okay." Brendon looked at his lap, felt silly for being so curious. It was just that Dallon was reserved, didn't talk to many people, never really made new friends. But it made sense, too, that there would be things he didn't know about yet. Two months wasn't a long time to get to know everything about someone. "I just... it's stupid. You know me, I like knowing everything, and when I don't..."

"Yeah, I know you." Dallon pulled up in front of the diner and Brendon let go of his hand to unbuckle his seatbelt. "Don't worry about a thing, Bren. You'll learn everything about me in time." He kissed his cheek, and Brendon had to smile, because he swore he was in this for the long run. He didn't need to know everything yet. And in a few months he would learn a lot, Dallon was right in that regard, but right now he found himself content with where he was. "I'll see you tomorrow, Urie. Text me after your shift."

"I will, sunshine. Bye." Brendon reached into the back to grab his bag and stole a kiss from Dallon's lips before he let himself out, smiling boldly because he felt new, somehow.

He had been shaking with anxiety when he got into Dallon's car the day before, hadn't known what to expect, but it was better than he thought it would be. He didn't feel out of place, didn't stutter or lock himself in the bathroom to cry or call his mother to pick him up because a noise outside scared him. He didn't let stupid things get to him. He was trying to approach things with a new demeanor.

He didn't care about the things he didn't know, because there were a few things he did.


	18. Chapter 17: From the Gallows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yes i know this is dramatic

They say that April showers bring May flowers, but it really felt the other way around. On Brendon's mental month rank from Shittiest Month to Less Shitty Months, April was pretty okay. There was his birthday, which loving was a cliché in and of itself, but he couldn't help it. It was a day of regrowth, a representation of maybe spring but definitely another year around the sun. April felt like fresh start. But May was right up there at the top of the shitty months. It seemed stormier this year, the average rainfall had never been so high, or maybe the sky seemed to linger with gray for days on end because the month itself hurt Dallon. Therefore, Brendon was biased against May.

May was the month that Dallon was born, and so the fact that the boy despised it was confusing at first until Brendon actually experienced it with him. He was off, like the month flipped some switch in him. Everyone could tell, could see the way he moved like a ghost, chasing somebody who wouldn't return. Ryan had whispered to just give him time when Brendon watched him excuse himself to the bathroom the day prior when they were out celebrating his birthday, playing awkwardly with his hands and trying to fill the silence. He'd never seen Dallon like this. He'd never seen Dallon in a lot of ways, he guessed.

Brendon's fingers were intertwined with his as the two made their way down the sidewalk from Dallon's car to the macaron place. Brendon may had gone a little overboard with the gifts, including a gift card because he always paid with his own money and Brendon was starting to think that there had to be some sort of balance. But, well, it was Dallon's day of officially becoming an adult. He deserved to be a little spoiled.

"Sorry I parked so far away," Dallon apologized somewhere during the short walk, though he had an umbrella stashed in the trunk of his car and Brendon didn't mind having to walk a little in the rain.

"That's okay. I don't mind the rain." He tilted his head up to smile and Dallon forced one back. Damp hair fell in his eyes after having been caught for a minute in the rain, but still Brendon felt warm. "I can't believe you're eighteen. You're so old. Old boy."

"Shut it, Urie, you're on your way." He hooked an arm around Brendon's neck and pulled him closer. He was trying, he really was. Brendon knew that. "Hey, listen. I wanna talk to you about something."

Brendon nodded willingly, hiding his confusion behind a smile. "Sure, okay."

He pushed open the door to the macaron place with all his anxiety shoved down so deep that he could trick himself into thinking it wasn't even there. It didn't even matter, anyway. Letting Dallon in first, he took the umbrella from his hands and shook it out before he rushed in and pointed Dallon toward a table, insisting he would pay, save the gift card for another time, it was his birthday, after all. Dallon watched him reluctantly but forced another smile, anyway.

"I hate making you pay for stuff," Dallon said sheepishly when his boyfriend set the plate of macarons and their drinks down on the table.

"Please, Dal, that's so heteronormative." He smiled impishly, pushing the macarons around on the plate in their respective categories, by color and flavor. "So, what's going on?"

"Um, listen." Dallon reached out to take his hand, just a delicate touch to the tips of his fingers, and Brendon looked up suddenly before he slid them completely into the spaces between Dallon's. "May is a really hard month for me. And I want to be a good boyfriend and I know I wasn't that great at the start of our relationship, so I don't want you to resent me or anything, but I wanna be able to confide in you because I trust you. So, I just want you to know that it's not your fault if I isolate myself or pull away. I'm gonna need a little bit of time to myself to deal with everything going on, mentally and otherwise, so if I'm being weird it's because of that. I'm gonna try my best, but if I say I need space, then I mean it."

Brendon nodded again without a second thought, of course he would understand. Or at least he wanted to understand. "I get it. And I'll respect that. Thank you for telling me. Just let me know if you need anything. Or, y'know, nothing."

Dallon nodded gratefully, hiding his relief though Brendon could catch a glimpse of it in his eyes before it was gone, loosening his grip on Brendon's fingers so he could continue to push around the macarons. "Thank you. You're sweet. And if I need any space then I promise I'll let you know."

Brendon offered a supportive smile to match the weak one his boyfriend was trying to give him. A boy with a smile as beautiful as his should never have to fake it. "Okay, no problem. Now c'mon, take a damn birthday macaron. We're celebrating your descent into adulthood!"

Dallon let out a quiet laugh but accepted half of a birthday cake flavored macaron that Brendon had gotten special for the day nonetheless. "Don't you mean ascent?"

Nibbling on his half of the cookie, Brendon shook his head. "No, I mean descent. It's all downhill from here." He picked up his plastic cup of soda and raised it in the air for a cheers. Dallon raised his own, smiling that smile that wasn't really a smile, and at least he was trying. He tapped his cup against Brendon's, and he was trying.

* * *

Brendon had already been about an hour into his shift at the diner when the little bell chimed above the door, greeting a new customer. He glanced up to give them his signature diner boy smile, but Dallon slid in through the glass door, eyes fixated on his feet, not acknowledging a wary Brendon but knowing he was there.

Dallon took a seat at the corner booth and pulled a notebook and pen out of his bag. He opened up to a page in the middle of the notebook, clicking the pen a few times, and maybe searching for privacy in a crowded diner during rush hour was a bad idea. Maybe, because it was Brendon's job to serve him. He tucked his hands into the front pockets of his little apron awkwardly, moving slow across the diner like he was afraid, but Dallon hardly noticed that Brendon was even working.

He put on his diner boy smile, strictly professional, a nonexistent bond between a customer and an employee. "Hey, can I get you anything?" He asked, and only then did Dallon realize he was standing at the end of his table, hands still hidden within the pockets of the small green apron and fidgeting with the pen inside. He looked up at him, a little surprised but not enough for reaction, and Brendon swallowed around a false smile. It wasn't good. He was exhausted, heavy bags under his eyes, hands unsteady, and he needed some sleep. He should be home. Why wasn't he home?

"Just Dr. Pepper," Dallon answered quietly. Brendon was curious but he didn't address the notebook, or the way exhaustion hung heavy around his neck, or how he should be home getting some rest. Maybe it was his presence that just made Dallon feel at peace, maybe it was the familiarity of the diner or maybe he just wanted some fountain soda, but whatever it was, it left Brendon wondering what his purpose was. Dallon looked abandoned. Vacant.

"Nothing to eat?" Dallon shook his head and looked away again, so Brendon gave him a nod and went to get his drink. Over the counter Kyla flashed him a worried look, eyebrows drawn up in concern.

When he placed the glass on Dallon's table, he glanced up through hair in his eyes. It was raining again, he didn't have an umbrella when he came in, and there were remnants of cool raindrops on his skin and the smooth fabric of his jacket. "Thanks," Dallon muttered when Brendon set the glass down in front of him.

He looked... destroyed, like he'd been up for days and hadn't eaten, dwelling in anxiety that had been gnawing at him for way too long. This was just... unlike him. Brendon never had to worry about him like this before. But then again, he was finding so many little truths tucked in between the spaces of what he knew, lately. He backed away, watching Dallon twirl the straw in between his fingertips aimlessly, and disappeared behind the counter with his pad of paper in his hand.

Brendon watched him over the counter, writing vehemently in the notebook like he would explode if he stopped. Trying to keep track of all of his dangerous thoughts before they erupted inside of him. Trailing shadows and trying to catch them before they spread. Nothing but harrowing, murderous thoughts.

Brendon set a plate of fries down on the table in front of an unsuspecting Dallon, who looked up from his notebook in surprise. His eyes flickered from the ceramic plate with food on it to the brown eyes of the boy who cared too much. Confusion settled in his gaze, and Brendon gestured to it awkwardly. "On the house. I haven't seen you eat in like, a week and a half."

Dallon sighed, closing the notebook over his pen slowly like he didn't even have the energy to go at a normal pace. "You haven't been around me every second of every day of the past week and a half, Brendon." He answered wearily, not trying to be malicious.

"I know. But I also know you." He reached out to place a hand on Dallon's shoulder. Dallon looked reluctant, but Brendon was trying. Telling him that he was there for him, even when he was pulling away, even when he was isolating himself. Even though Brendon didn't want to interfere or cross boundaries where he knew it wasn't fair. He was just... trying. That was all he knew how to do. "Just eat, Dal. Please. Take care of yourself."

Dallon exhaled in another sigh, eyes lingering unseeingly on Brendon's; when Brendon retracted his hand, Dallon glanced back in the direction of the fries that Brendon had left him. He took in a quiet breath, and Brendon knew him well enough to know that he was a hell of a lot more stubborn than Dallon.

Looking back up at his boyfriend in what looked like defeat, he didn't even try to smile. Just nodded, like it drained the last of his energy. Like it was more than it was. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Brendon pat his shoulder and turned back to retreat to work. As long as he could do something, as long as he could help, well. He could convince himself that Dallon would be fine.

Behind the counter he looked across the diner at the boy, eyebrows knit together in worry. Dallon would be fine. It was just a few weeks, was all. He grabbed the coffee pot and went to refill an almost empty mug in front of him, but he didn't miss the little smile Dallon gave the plate before he reached out for it.

* * *

Dallon wasn’t in history class the Wednesday after Brendon saw him in the diner, after a few long days and an apology for being so distant. But Brendon sat in his seat at the back of the class, gave him a few minutes, maybe he was running late, but halfway into the class Brendon cut off his hope. Dallon was unpredictable, always had been, and the truancy had been unsettling, all things considered.

So maybe he was tired, and maybe he wanted to sleep in. Maybe he wasn't feeling well, or maybe he was just taking a day off. All that vexing must get so tiring, anyway. Brendon's leg shook under his desk as he tried to do the mental math, what day of the week was it, his work schedule, his school schedule, he'd lost track of the date somewhere in between. It was late May, and... oh.

As soon as the bell rang, Brendon jumped up and speed walked out of the room, catching up to his best friend somewhere in the midst of student traffic in the hall. He grabbed Tyler's arm, pulled him close, and Tyler turned, surprised. “Hey, what day is it?” He asked quickly, voice hushed.

Tyler shrugged. “Wednesday?”

“I mean the date.”

“Oh. The nineteenth.”

Something in Brendon’s stomach dropped, he swore it was his heart, and he should have remembered. He should have... he wanted to do something, he had to do something. He swallowed thickly, all of the little don’t do it signals in his head shut off, and he pat the side of Tyler’s arm thankfully. “Okay, um, I need to go.”

Tyler turned around in the hallway and watched Brendon walk toward one of the side doors that led to the street outside. “What? Where are you going?” He called, but Brendon had already pushed through the door and hurried out of the school before anybody could even think about stopping him.

* * *

Brendon walked into the cemetery quietly, beyond the gate and underneath an eerie archway that would be far scarier if it weren't in the light of day. He followed the sidewalk path that led through the grassy areas with gravestones scattered about, letting his eyes oscillate in hopes of finding him. He knew this was it, Dallon had pointed it out once on a drive through town where they just happened to take a detour. As if all the people were just there to pass by. It was the same as walking through, though. All those souls and no one to pay attention to them.

When Brendon was a child his siblings would tell him ghost stories to try and freak him out. The boy who was scared of everything, ghost stories, they all got a kick out of it. He was naive and gullible and he believed in them. But the one that stood out was one that Mason told him on a family camping trip: that the souls of lost bodies would climb out and try to possess any living, breathing being that passed by. That was why it was imperative to hold your breath when passing any cemetery— trick the dead into thinking you're one of them. Brendon didn't believe it anymore, but he still found himself holding his breath.

He wandered around for a while, past gravestones engraved with dates and names he'd never heard, wondering who they were, the impacts they made on the world. If they were missed, visited, why decaying flowers sat in the grass like some metaphor. Something tragic, like the boy he saw when one tilt of his chin upward directed his attention toward what he was looking for. Dallon, sitting cross-legged in front of a specific gravestone, looking downward and seeming so drained. Like it was just like the rest of them, though he knew.

Brendon's lips twitched innately into a frown but he stayed out of sight for a moment, watching his boy from afar. He had a sketchbook in his lap, a pencil in between his fingers, but he sat motionless as the wind caught locks of soft brown hair, the spring air warm and fresh on the first day in weeks that it wasn't raining. The gravestone was nothing special, not anything anybody would look twice at, but Brendon knew what it was. Who it was.

Trying not to scare him, Brendon approached him slowly. Dallon looked up at the sound of sneakers scuffing against the concrete, and his eyes met Brendon's with indifference as he crossed the grass. Not surprised, it seemed, and maybe he knew that Brendon would come looking for him. Without a word, he looked back down at his sketchbook. "You weren't at school," Brendon said, and Dallon shrugged half-heartedly like it didn't matter to him. "May I sit?"

Dallon nodded so Brendon sat down in the grass beside him, leaving some space in between them so that Dallon wouldn't feel suffocated. He twisted his fingers in his lap, quiet as Dallon avoided his gaze. He stared at Dallon's hands, holding the pencil tightly like it was the only tangible thing left. It felt like a long time, waiting for him to say something, thank him or assure him that he was alright, but nothing came. He just stared down at his sketchbook with glazed over eyes as he tapped the eraser of his mechanical pencil against it, like he was struggling with what to draw. Or, more likely, what to say.

"Today is the three year anniversary of when he died." He said quietly, gesturing to the gravestone but not meeting Brendon's eyes. "School just seemed pointless today."

"Did you skip?" Brendon's question came gently, careful not to speak too loud. Dallon nodded, and Brendon folded his arms.

"My mom told me I could stay home. I said I'd try to go to school, and then I was standing in the parking lot and I felt like I was betraying him and I couldn't breathe so I came here instead. My mom will know that I'm here when she gets the call that I'm not in school." He let out a huff as if he were trying to laugh, though it sounded forced. Pained. Brendon frowned, and Dallon set his pencil and sketchbook down in the grass. "Sometimes I come here to draw. Or to talk. Or to not talk. When I wanna be around him."

Brendon reached out and placed a guileless hand on his thigh. Dallon didn't move away or flinch, didn't react at all, so Brendon left it there, just watching Dallon as he stared at the gravestone with apathetic eyes, as if the life had been sucked out of him years ago and he was still trying to find it. As if his deliberation was getting the better of him, and all of his thoughts were pulled straight from the gallows of his mind. Maybe all there was behind his eyes was darkness. Maybe Brendon was just now realizing it.

Brendon glanced at the stone in front of the two, reading Mark Weekes, loving husband and father, engraved in the stone to make it official. Like a death certificate. And then Dallon was crying, quiet and still, and Brendon examined the tears rolling down his cheeks like it was the most unexpected thing to possibly have happened.

"He didn't deserve it. He was young. It's not fair."

"Death isn't fair," Brendon whispered, and Dallon squeezed his eyes shut like the words made it all the more real. "And life isn't fair. And I don't know what it feels like to lose a loved one, but you do, so you know better than I do that everything is just— it's fucking unfair." He took Dallon's hand cautiously, tucked it in his own to inflict some feeble attempt of security, but Dallon just looked at him pensively. "I don't know how to comfort you. I wish I did, though. I know that's not the same. But if you need to talk or rant or cry, I'll be here for you. I can’t promise I’ll be of much help, but I’ll listen, and I’ll be here."

"Thank you." Dallon shifted to pull him into a sudden hug, over the invisible line that Brendon had drawn between the two to keep their experiences apart. He knew he didn't understand. Knew Dallon did. Brendon shut his eyes, nodding slow, and squeezed him tight. Because even when Dallon was self-destructing, Brendon knew he could be patient.

Dallon pulled away, less tense but still reserved, and tangled his fingers in the grass aimlessly. Brendon watched him pluck a few blades of grass out by their roots and let them flutter to the ground. Some sort of projection of his frustration with the world, perhaps, destroy it because it destroyed him. Brendon watched them wisp through the grass and across the walkway.

He wondered what was going on at school. Dallon would be in art class with the teacher who wouldn't let him express his creativity and Brendon would be in physics, learning about collisions or something equally as useless in his everyday life. Tyler had probably come up with some dumb excuse as to why he wasn’t in class to the teacher, like he had a meeting with his counselor or that he was at the nurse or something. He was a good friend like that.

A gust of thin, pointed wind blew past the two, a cold thread through warm spring air, rustling the pages of Dallon's pushed aside sketchbook and tousling both of their hair. A wave of nostalgia hit him with the wind, of old spring days with his family in the park down the street from home. Back before he was scared. It would be warm out, the wind just right, and they'd play soccer or frisbee, or Brendon's dad would throw a baseball to him and he'd try to hit it with a plastic baseball bat. Or he would just lay in the grass, watching the clouds. Brendon looked up, and maybe he still had something to be scared of sometimes.

"How'd you know I was here?" Dallon asked suddenly, pulling Brendon out of his cocoon and to the patch of grass that still held remnants of dewdrops from yesterday's rainfall. Half-heartedly he shrugged, examined the way Dallon’s hair had fallen in his eyes.

"Because I know you." His reply was much quieter than he meant it to be, but Dallon looked up at him, said nothing, knew it held truth. Brendon was getting to know him far too well. Maybe he needed somebody to read him like that. "You weren't in first period. I realized what day it was, and I remembered which cemetery he was at, so I came here."

"You skipped," Dallon realized out loud. Brendon nodded simply, but when Dallon turned to meet his eyes, the look on his face said more. That if he had the energy left then he would go off on him for doing something so stupid. Dallon spent too long doubting himself to notice that people actually cared about him. Hadn't he realized how vital he was to Brendon?

"Your wellbeing is more important than school, Dallon. I'll deal with my parents tonight, and I’ll deal with school tomorrow. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I was worried when I didn't see you."

He tilted his head to the side in disbelief, incredulity in his eyes. And it was heartbreaking, Brendon thought, that he couldn't fathom how somebody could care so much about him. That he didn't even realize he mattered. Brendon's stomach dropped; this ran deeper than either of them knew. Because Dallon had more or less become his everything, and if he wasn't okay... well, then Brendon needed to make him okay. Or at least trick him into thinking he was. "That's sweet, but you don't have to worry about me. I'm fine."

"I know you are." Brendon decided that distance wasn't making the heart grow any fonder so he moved closer, slow and calculated, and Dallon tilted his head down to rest gently against Brendon's shoulder. Bangs fell in his eyes, and he sniffled. "But I wanted to be here for you. Just in case."

Dallon placed a hand on his thigh and nodded in solidarity. "Thank you."

"Sure." Brendon nodded back but didn't dare move. Just breathed out in silence, turned to look at the top of his head, forced a smile as if Dallon could see it. A silent message of how much he loved him, even if Dallon didn't know it. Because it wasn't like Brendon could say it. Every time he tried it died behind his teeth, refused to roll off his tongue. And besides, it had only been a little less than two months since they made their relationship official. He couldn't admit it yet. It was too soon. Whether he knew what he was feeling or not.

They slipped into a comfortable silence with the sound of the wind shaking the trees. Half-heartedly Brendon brought a hand up to place on the back of Dallon's head, carding his fingers through languidly, brushing the extremities downward where he could lace them through the locks of hair. Dallon's breathing was quiet, resigned, like he was trying to take it all in. Make sense of the rollercoaster of emotions that he hadn't been able to shake.

And then out of nowhere, Dallon laughed. Brendon pulled away, confused, but Dallon was smiling, it wasn't forced, it was a genuine smile, and Brendon loved that smile, wanted to collect it and put it with all of the other smiles he loved. "Well, Brendon, this is my dad. Daddy, this is my boyfriend Brendon."

"I was wondering when I would get to meet him." Brendon wrapped an arm around his waist, pulled him close, and Dallon leaned his head on Brendon's shoulder with a laugh that bubbled up from deep inside like he needed it, like it had been so long since he'd laughed and he had forgotten what it felt like. "Don't worry, Mr. Weekes. I'll treat him well."

They sat like that for a while, thinking separately but so close that they could feel each other's hearts beating. Brendon held him like he was his only comfort in a world where it was being ripped away from him, because maybe he was, maybe they were perfect that way. He felt like Dallon's body belonged there, pressed against his own, and for a minute it felt safe. Secure. He tightened his fingers in the fabric of Dallon's shirt, and Dallon nuzzled against him like Brendon was home and he was back after a long trip.

Brendon wanted to protect him. The feeling was innate, like it had always been inside of him, waiting for its chance. And he swore to himself that he would try. He had no idea what he was doing but he would try, because Dallon deserved that. Brendon didn't know it at the time, but he would come to find that he needed it as well.

With gentle fingers, Brendon squeezed his side. "Can I ask you something?" Dallon nodded, twisted the ring off of his finger. "Was it the hardest when it happened?" He asked, words so quiet that they could have been swept away with the wind.

Dallon nodded calmly, took a deep breath, ran his hand down Brendon's thigh to place on his knee. "When he died, it didn't hit me. It hit my mom right away, and I was upset, but I held it together because she needed me to. Everyone was expecting me to. I'm always so put together, you know? I thought it was just over, that it was something I could move past. But around a week after he died or something like that, I don't really remember, I was at school and this wave of realization just hit me when I was walking through the halls so I turned around and ran to the bathroom. I locked myself in there and cried all block, Brendon, it was bad. That was when I realized that it was real. And it wasn't something I could let go or move past. I was naive. I thought that if I pretended it wasn't happening, then it wouldn't be." He sighed, as if berating himself. "So damn naive."

Brendon was quiet for a second, picking aimlessly at Dallon's shirt. It was years ago but it felt so present; so much had changed since then. So much had changed in a few months, too. He couldn't picture himself not in Dallon's life. He couldn't picture him in a school Brendon had never been to, a different world, in a bathroom breaking down with no one to hear him. Brendon would grow to hate school bathrooms more and more in the next year, though he didn't know that yet. A long, long year where Dallon would be there for him, unlike back when Dallon was at his loneliest. Brendon couldn't imagine Dallon without him.

He was forgetting who he was before Dallon, too.

And Brendon didn't know it, but beside him Dallon was wishing that he had been there too. Wasted years without each other, all those days they could have spent comforting one another when they really, really needed it. Brendon hated to think that his own anxiety had pushed any chances of them being together away, but they were here now.

"I'm sorry. I don't know how to comfort you."

"No, you are." Dallon reached out. Quietly, Brendon pushed his fingers into the spaces between Dallon's, awkward but somehow not. Warm skin against cold, tangling and twisting and lacing them together from above and from the side, however it was, Brendon would make it work. He was aware of the sun sinking, and he was aware of the way Dallon's fingers grew colder. "You are, Brendon, thank you."

Brendon leaned over to nose the top of Dallon's hair, inhaling traces of vanilla shampoo— a scent Brendon had grown an affinity toward for the last few months— and he shut his eyes. Dallon closed his eyes too, pressed his cheek against Brendon's shoulder, under his arm like Brendon was lending him his strength. But he was alive, and he was there. That was starting to feel like an accomplishment. "What was it like? His funeral."

Dallon brushed his hair out of his eyes like it was suddenly bothering him. "It was weird. Everyone was crying and wearing black and saying they were sorry as if that would make it better. Like, sorry doesn't bring him back. Nothing would bring him back. And then they were all saying goodbye and that was what got to me the most. It was all the same shit, like, we'll miss you, we love you, and I didn't know what the hell to say. How do you say goodbye to someone you've known all your life? He raised me. He made me who I am. How do you just let go of that?"

Brendon let out a quiet breath and looked up to the sky again as if he were asking God himself for his answers. But they never came, and Brendon guessed he just had to do everything himself. For years he had been looking toward God and God had been neglectful. But it was alright, because Dallon was asking him, not a higher power. He was confiding in Brendon, trusting him like he was something holy. "I don't think you let go of it. I think you hold everything to your heart, and you mourn, and then you move on from it. I'm not gonna pretend to know what you're feeling, but I think in any case, you live and you learn. You'll never forget him, but you're not gonna be able to forgive the world unless you let yourself feel again."

Dallon was quiet for a second, thinking. And all at once he let out an airy breath as if that was what he'd been needing to hear for the past three years, like he couldn't believe that after all his stumbling in the dark, despite all the faulty power lines, Brendon had found the circuit breaker. He had the answer that Dallon needed all along. He was what Dallon was looking for.

Dallon was what Brendon was looking for too.

"You're right." Dallon squeezed his hand, more grateful than Brendon would ever know. "Yeah, you're right. Thank you."

Brendon's nod was slow but it was there, and Dallon turned to look at him when he pushed a hand up his side. "Are you okay?" Brendon tugged on his shirt gently, and Dallon answered with a nod, hesitant but sure.

"You're a really, really good person," Dallon whispered suddenly, and immediately he caught his attention. Brendon had never thought so, when he bothered to think about it at all, but Dallon tightened his hand, pressed his fingers to his skin like he could push it into his bloodstream and make him believe it too. "Even though you're a smartass, and you're snarky, and a lot of the time, you're being negative and self-deprecating-"

"Thanks," Brendon deadpanned.

"I'm not done." Dallon laughed quietly, each word like tiptoes in the warm air surrounding them. "From the moment I met you, you went out of your way for me. I mean, you let me come to your home on Christmas because I don't celebrate without my dad. You respect my personal space and make sure I'm comfortable, you listen to me and you talk to me and you understand me. It's like at the time, you knew I needed friends and you were there when I needed you. And, you know, I try not to be negative all the time. I want to try and get myself to a place where I can see the good in every situation. I get that sometimes it's easier, and that's why you do it. But with you, it's endearing. And sometimes I wonder if there's some reason for it, something underlying that I don't know and maybe even you don't, but I don't want to psychoanalyze you. I do want to know you more, though, and I'm glad that I'm getting the chance to."

"I am too, Dal," Brendon whispered, at a loss for words.

"And... I like you so much, Brendon." He laughed desperately like it was impossible to hold it in anymore. "I mean, I always want to be around you, and I can't stop thinking about you, and I know that's okay now because we're us. I just didn't know what it was, at first. Where that infatuation came from. But now I know. It's just that... you're kind. You may be jaded as hell and a little fucked up sometimes, but you're kind. You'd do anything for the people you love and I hadn't even realized how real that is. I mean, you skipped school today to make sure that I'm okay. You're such a good person, I want you to know that. You’re a good friend, and you’re a good boyfriend, and you're a good person."

Brendon shook his head, didn't know what to say. Dallon was quiet for a second as Brendon tightened his fingers in his, because he knew where it was all coming from. This part of Dallon that he had hidden from the real world. This raw honesty, these words he'd been meaning to say for weeks but didn't quite know when to say them, where more words hid and waited their turn. Secrets spoken among the spirits of people he'd never known.

"I'm sorry I'm so negative all the time. I know it must be unattractive and probably really annoying. And I don't know what's wrong with me, you might be right about there being something there, but it's so hard for me to find the energy to be positive sometimes. Even when I have a lot to stay positive for. I guess I've just got walls up, I realized that when I found out you did too. I've always had my walls up."

"I remember. You were threatened by people. You told me that once and I think about that a lot." He nudged his shoulder with his nose. "You've got a past."

Brendon swallowed thickly and blinked down at his lap. He remembered that? After all the other conversations they'd had, something so minuscule that he had told him seven months prior, back when they had just become friends. "You remembered."

He brushed his fingers through the short hair on the back of Brendon's head. "Of course I did."

Brendon let out a quiet breath and let his eyes wander across the cemetery. All these people, but who were they? How were they remembered, respected? Who was thinking about them right now? Brendon was, for one, he was thinking about all of them. Somebody had to be. "Yeah, I do have a past. But it's nothing like yours."

Dallon sat up and with a shaky breath, pressed a gentle kiss to his lips without warning. It was slow, warm, made Brendon's heart melt with the feeling of milky satisfaction. And suddenly none of it mattered, his hidden history and his broken heart for Dallon. It didn't matter when he was there with him. Not everything was all that bad.

Only when their lips fell away from each other's did he whisper against Brendon's mouth, so quiet that it was almost picked up by the wind and carried away from the two kindred souls beneath it. "Everyone's been through something. In my experience, keeping your walls up is no good. If you want to be better, be heard."

"I'll remember that," Brendon whispered back and Dallon tilted his head down to rest his forehead against Brendon's chin. "And Dal, no offense, buddy, but I became friends with you for me. I needed friends. Totally for me."

Dallon laughed, but didn't move from where he had positioned himself against him. Instead he reached out to place a hand on Brendon's side, thumbing gently to feel him there with him. "Then I'm glad you needed friends."

Brendon smiled against the top of his head and let his eyes slip shut. "I'm glad I needed friends too."

* * *

When the sun sank in the sky, setting on the bubble they had formed around each other, Dallon stood up, dusted his jeans off and picked up his sketchbook and ran his fingers over the gravestone. Told Brendon that his mother wanted him home for dinner. Brendon kept his grip on his hand tight even when Dallon led him to his car, because he didn't really feel like he could let go.

Over the middle console Brendon leaned in again, captured his lips and whispered a promise that he knew he would keep. "I'm gonna be here for you whenever you need me. Even when you feel like everyone is against you. I won't be." And Dallon nodded, forehead against Brendon's, and if tears pooled in his eyes then neither of them would mention it. Brendon just held him there for a second, a hand on the back of his head, two pairs of eyes closed. Pretending for a second like it wasn't the day that it was, and Dallon's memories weren't his own.

A sincere thank you was the last thing Dallon whispered before Brendon got out of the car in front of the diner, and Brendon thanked him too, followed by words unsaid that he had swallowed before they slipped out. Words that he didn't need to say and Dallon didn't need to hear, because sometimes it meant more not to say it. They smiled at each other, almost hazy, and Brendon went upstairs, skipped the diner in case anybody cornered him. But as he kicked off his shoes off in the front room, he found them waiting, angry. Of course they would be.

"Brendon Boyd Urie, get your ass in here right now." His mother's demanding voice was the first thing he heard when he closed the door behind him.

He winced, though he knew he would have to deal with it sooner or later, and stepped into the living room. His mother and father were standing in the center of the room waiting for him, his father with his arms crossed and his mother with her hands on her hips, and he swallowed thickly when he met their vicious gazes. He knew it was bad when they wouldn't even take a seat.

He dropped his bag on the floor and waved to them lightheartedly, as if that would earn their trust back, but still they glared back at him. He hated seeing them so angry. Especially when he was the cause of it. Those were gazes that he'd seen enough times in his life to know what they meant. Timidly, he tried, "Hi."

"Don't hi us. Your school called to tell us that you didn't go to any classes after first period, and I didn't believe it considering the fact that I dropped you off this morning. But apparently you were written up for skipping. School isn't an option, Brendon, it's mandatory." His mother scolded, making him shrink in his place.

"And you can't just leave whenever you feel like it! What the hell were you thinking?" His dad added. He wasn't much of a yeller, he left that to his wife, but it scared Brendon when he raised his voice. They were both livid, was he shaking, and he put his hands out to tell them to cease fire.

"I can explain." They exchanged glances and then looked back at him with raised eyebrows. "Today is three years since Dallon's dad died. And I realized he wasn't in school during first period, so I went to the cemetery where his dad is buried, and he was there, so I stayed with him. I wanted to be there for him because he's always there for me. He's been going through a lot lately because his mom started dating again, and he hasn't been good mentally. You know how bad he's been. I'm really worried about him. So I wanted to stay with him today. I didn't feel right about leaving him so I could go back to school. I promise, tomorrow I'm gonna make up whatever work I missed, and I'll take the detention I get for skipping."

He crossed his heart and widened his eyes pleadingly, desperate. His mother stared at him, looked down and sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose like he was giving her a headache, which he probably was. Taking care of Brendon could be exhausting sometimes; he knew because he had to do it every day.

"Go upstairs." She gestured toward the staircase.

He furrowed his eyebrows, because they weren't done yelling at him yet. This never happened. She still had a good ten minutes of chewing him out left in her. "What?"

"Go upstairs, Brendon." She repeated sternly. He nodded quickly and scampered off up the stairs before she could say anything else. He wasn't going to question the fact that he was being given an out of a lecture he didn't want to be a part of in the first place. Not to mention the fact that in his mind, skipping was justified today. He closed his bedroom door behind him and crawled into bed, still a little frightened, pulling his phone out from his back pocket before he could even hit the mattress. It wasn't like them to let him off the hook. They never did.

Ty: where the fuck did you go today

Ty: dude what the hell you can't just walk out of school without an explanation or an excuse you could have gotten dismissed or something but walking out??? don't be an idiot

Ty: urie you're absolutely fucked your mom keeps texting me asking where you are she's pissed and your dad is not happy either

Urie: I was with Dallon

Ty: you skipped school to hang out with your boyfriend are you stupid

Urie: no it wasn't like that ok he's been bad lately and I really had to be there for him. he needed me today and he's more important than school, I don't wanna get into it but i’ll be back tomorrow

Ty: ok as long as everything is okay

Urie: it is pinky swear

He rolled over onto his back with a sigh just as his bedroom door cracked open without a knock. He turned to see his mother step into the room, just as he had suspected, forcing a smile though they both knew the score. Wordlessly he sat up, ready for the attack, dropped his phone onto the bed, pushed it under his covers so she wouldn't see it and suddenly remember that he needed a punishment. "What happened today, Brendon?" She asked quietly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

He ran his hands mindlessly over the sheets and then joined them in his lap to twist his fingers together, reminiscent of Dallon's cold ones in his own. "Dallon wasn't at school, so I left and went to find him. He was at his dad's grave, mama, and I stayed with him all day because how could I go back to school after that? It was only a day, and tomorrow I'll make everything up, I swear. It's just... he hasn't been doing well lately. And I'm really worried about him."

"I get it, babe." She placed a hand on his shoulder, watched him look away. He sniffled; he knew he hadn't been thinking straight but everything seemed so clear. Dallon needed him. What was one day? "Is he okay?"

He nodded and tugged at the hem of his shirt, wondering if Dallon was feeling better after they had talked. If he was just now taking the elevator up, letting his mind wander and thinking about how at least he had somebody who cared about him. Wiping tears off his cheeks like dirt, going home to see his mother. His family. "Yeah. I think he's fine. It's just a bad day for him, y'know?"

She nodded. "I get it, honey, don't worry. And look, we love Dallon, you know we do, but you can't leave school without permission, Bren. You can comfort him and be there for him, but don't let this happen again. If you need to not be in school for whatever reason, then we'll call you out. Especially if you have to be there for someone who needs you. But you can’t skip.”

He nodded too, he should have called in the first place, and pushed his hand against his nose. "Okay. Sorry. I just didn't know what to do. I panicked."

She wrapped her arms around him in a sudden hug and he almost froze, looking down at his duvet behind her. He didn't know how bad it was. He didn't know how secluded Dallon's thoughts were until he was exposing them out for the sun to see, giving Brendon a tour of a mind not quite haunted but still jarring enough to make him wonder. He knew he wouldn't be able to get it out of his head, what he and Dallon had spoken about that day, how tears rolled down his cheeks and glistened in the sunlight that shone through the trees above. How he was shaking when Brendon held him in his arms.

"It's okay, keiki. Just be careful next time, okay? I know that you like to be there for the people you care about but you know how we feel about school: it's important. You can’t just leave whenever you want without consequences.”

“I know, mama, I’m not gonna do it again." He promised, and she pulled away from the hug to see that his eyes were brimming with tears. Her own eyes softened just a little, the eyes that Brendon had inherited, still unused to Brendon displaying basic emotions after years and years of nothing. She fell silent, and he took in a tremulous breath. "I don't regret going, though." He cried brokenly. "He was sitting in front of his grave and he was crying and I— I didn't know what to say or do, I didn't know how to comfort him. I knew it was bad but I didn't know it was that bad. But we talked about death and— and he was talking about his funeral and I didn't even know what to say. It was heartbreaking, mama, I can't even imagine how bad it must be for him. I feel so bad."

"Oh, honey." She pulled him into another hug, and his tears made their great escape as he buried his face in her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I know that must have been so hard. You've never had to deal with something like this before."

She was right. In all of his seventeen years, Brendon had never experienced death. He wasn't even sure he'd experienced life. He was just drifting through, blissfully unaware. Or maybe he was too aware, and that was what had gotten him into this whole mess in the first place. He knew what the world could do. He'd always known. That was the worst part. For ten years he had been anything but unaware.

He knew what the world could do. He just didn't know that it would do it to Dallon.

"I just wanna be there for him. He’s always there for me.”

She pulled away, placed a hand on her son’s cheek, wiped a trace of wetness away, eyes dripping with sympathy while his dripped tears. Death was delicate. It was inexplicable and ruthless and even through everything Brendon had been lucky enough not to have to know that. Knowing about it and knowing it were two different things, a lesson reminiscent of something Dallon had taught him months ago. That was the difference between the two of them. There were things that Brendon couldn't understand even if he tried.

She thumbed his cheek carefully, something warm in her eyes, and Brendon was so thankful for his family. “I know, baby, and I get it. You wanna be a good boyfriend. And you are. I'm sure Dallon appreciates the fact that you went out of your way to be there for him."

Brendon sniffled and reached up to push his fist against his nose again. "Yeah, he does. And I'm sorry I skipped."

"It's okay, ipo. You're someone who takes care of the people you love; we aren't going to hold that against you. It's the Urie blood." She half smiled, and he sniffled again. "But you’re also a student, and skipping school isn’t going to do you any good. Just think about that.”

Brendon was ready to take whatever punishment she was going to give him, but she just stood up and placed a kiss on his forehead before she stepped toward the door. Without letting it really go through his cognitive process, he asked, “I’m not getting grounded?”

She turned to watch him, examining the furrowed eyebrows and ostensible worry on his tear-stained face. But there he was, crying over something he couldn't control, and maybe she understood. Maybe something in the life she lived before Brendon helped her understand. She shook her head solemnly, and Brendon’s eyes softened a little bit. “No. But this is a warning. If this happens again-“

“It won’t.” He interrupted. “Thank you, mama.”

“Alright. Are you okay?" He nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure if it was the truth. "Okay. Good. Now please go find out all the work you missed from your friends, make it all up tomorrow and we won't have a problem. I’ll call you when dinner is ready.” She blew a kiss, and with that, she disappeared.

When he heard the creak of the final stair, he let himself cry again.


	19. Chapter 18: An Artificial Happy Face

Brendon laid alone in bed one night, staring at the ceiling as he tried going over everything that had happened in his head, searching for a reason as to why he was feeling so lost. Things were okay. Dallon told him that things were okay. He was just trying to convince himself that he believed it.

They had a silent pact to take care of each other. Dallon did his part. Brendon just wanted to too.

He couldn’t get it out of his head. Dallon’s words. The tears on his cheeks. The look on his face. Brendon squeezed his eyes shut, trying to see any other version of Dallon, but that one popped into his head each time.

Things were okay. So what was wrong?

He spent hours laying in bed before he decided that he didn’t even really know what he was dwelling on. Dallon promised he was okay. That May was just a hard month every year and it was a temporary thing and he was okay. Brendon said he was worried. Dallon assured him not to be. So he knew he should trust him. He knew that.

Brendon crawled out of bed and sniffled, though none of his tears escaped. He was sick of staring at this ceiling. Trying to make sense of everything. He should have learned years ago that nothing in Brendon Urie’s world ever made sense.

Kara and Mason were talking in the kitchen when he padded downstairs, squinting in the dark until he stepped into the dim light of the room. “Hey.” He greeted quietly, and Kara looked up from where she was making tea at the counter to nod softly at him. “What are you guys doing up?”

Kara shrugged half-heartedly, turning to watch him slide into a seat at the table across from Mason. “Taking. Making tea. You want some?” He hesitated for a second before he nodded, and she went to grab him a mug. Tea would ease his anxiety. Calm that unnerving feeling in his stomach. He had no idea what was going on with him today. “So what are you doing up, little one? Can’t sleep?”

“No. I don’t know.” He pulled his knees to his chest and looked away when they looked at him, afraid that they would be able to read him. He couldn’t even read him.

“Is everything okay?” Mason asked, and Brendon glanced up again to catch his worried gaze, illuminated by the overhead lights. He must had looked like he had been crying because they both looked concerned, though Brendon couldn’t blame them.

“I, um. I don’t know. I’m just having a bad day.” He looked at his socked feet as Kara poured hot water into his mug, dipping a tea bag in and letting it soak. "I just keep thinking about the past month. How shitty everything has been. Like... how hard everything is for Dallon. And how I don't know how to help. It makes me feel kind of useless. I can't get it out of my head." He sniffled a little, hugging his knees. "I didn't know how difficult loss was until I saw Dallon cope with it. I've never really— I've never seen death. I don't know what it does to people. And it's not like I do now, but it's different. He's hurting and that's really new to me, too. Trying to take care of someone. And, like. He told me he's okay. He promised he is. And it's usually just May that's really bad for him. But why can't I stop thinking about it? How sad he was?"

"It's hard seeing someone you love go through something." Mason shrugged, and Brendon guessed all of them had experienced that firsthand with him. He felt suddenly like he was a burden. Bringing his problems to them since the day he was born. He was selfish. Never knew how not to be.

"If Dallon says he's okay and you have no reason to believe he's not, then why worry about it?" Kara asked carefully as she set the mug down in front of him and sat down beside Mason.

"That's the thing: I don't know. I mean, he said he was okay. I wanna believe that he is. I think I'm just... I don't know. Worrying about how it's affecting me. I'm just selfish." He looked down into the steaming liquid and his siblings exchanged glances.

"Why do you think that's selfish?"

"Because he's going through something and I'm the one who he's reassuring. I don't know. I'm just..." He avoided their gazes because he worried that if he didn't, he'd see judgment in their eyes. "I've been so anxious lately. Nervous. I don't even really know why. I mean, he's my best friend. I love him. But he's okay. I know he's okay. So I don't know what's going on. Why I feel like this."

He played with the tea bag aimlessly and Mason and Kara exchanged skeptical glances across from him. They were always doing that thing they did where they tried to analyze him. They may as well; Brendon could never figure himself out. "Maybe..." Mason started hesitantly, and noticeably quieted down when Brendon looked up again. "Maybe it's not because of what's going on with Dallon. Maybe it's just, y'know, everything. Life."

Kara nodded like that was precisely what she was thinking. Brendon looked between them, almost disbelieving, not so much because it didn't make sense but because he didn't know how they had come to that conclusion and he hadn't. Had it been that obvious all this time? Had he been too obviously not okay? What was wrong with him?

"What are you saying?" He asked in an accusatory whisper, sounding like he was being interrogated because that was how it felt. Like an interrogation.

Mason put his hands up as if to tell him not to attack and Kara cupped her own mug, shaking her head gently. He was so different from them. He had fallen so far from where the rest of his siblings had. He never quite understood why.

Kara sighed to herself and Brendon looked between them again, panic-stricken. "We're just saying that we wonder if something might be going on with you again. After everything that happened before last year, you know? You had a lot going on before you started to get better. Even then... your first couple of years in high school were hard. And now you're adjusting to something completely different, and you're almost a senior, and... it's just that you're acting weird again, Brendon. We were all talking about it, and-"

"You were talking about me?" He interrupted defensively, overly paranoid now. They were talking about him. He told them not to do that.

"Because we're worried about you, Bren." Mason intervened. "We know you've been through a lot. And you've been making a lot of progress, especially this year, but the past few weeks, you've been really up and down. We think something else might be going on."

He looked away from them and instead fixated on a chip in the wood on the edge of the table. Nothing else was going on. It was just this weird limbo of time, was all. The transition from spring to summer. That was always a trivial time of year. And besides, Brendon was always somewhat different. Grew up too sheltered, scared of any exposure to the world. He had one friend his whole life and kept away from others. To anybody else, that could be considered something going on. To Brendon, it was just the reality.

Him being a little scared wasn't anything new. It was who he was. They didn't have to worry about him.

"I'm fine." He insisted. Teenagers just got moody sometimes. They lost their way and found it and lost it all over again. That was a part of growing up. Brendon wasn't any different.

"Brendon," Mason sighed, distraught over having to tell him the truth. Brendon wished he wouldn't. "Bren, we're worried about you."

"There's nothing to be worried about." He argued defensively.

"You're always up in your room staring at the ceiling, Brendon." He argued, but realized he was raising his voice and lowered it again when Brendon looked affronted and Kara set a hand on Mason's shoulder. "You're always so worried about everything and we don't know how to help. We want to, and we care about you, but even you don't know what you're upset about. It's like... we want you to be help but you can't because you don't know that you need it."

"Because I don't!" He cried, and Mason sat back in his chair. He knew how it sounded. Childish. Defensive. He knew. But he didn't need help. He was wrong. So was Dallon when he had told him that there was something underlying. Some reason to his self-deprecation. Brendon hated himself. Hated the world. That was how he had been since he was a child. It wasn't like that was news. He didn't need help for something he'd been accustomed to his entire life.

"Brendon," Kara added softly, and he sniffled again, not daring to look her in the eye. "We think it might be a good idea for you to talk to somebody and get some help."

He shook his head and glared at them like he was offended. "Like therapy?" He asked, and they only looked at each other. They were just trying to find fault in him. Label him and analyze him and try to make things easier on themselves. He didn't need help. They were trying to solve problems that didn't need to be solved. "No."

"It would really help, Bren." Mason insisted in something of a begging tone.

"No. I'm not going back to therapy. I don't need to." He refused. He wasn't going to ask a stranger for help. He didn't need help. He was happy. "I'm okay. I promise, I'm fine. I'm just— I'm tired, I'm gonna go to bed." He picked up his mug and slid out of his seat without any real intention of going to bed. He knew already; he was going to lay there and stare at the ceiling and think about what they had said all night. He was just thinking. There was nothing wrong with that.

"Brendon," Mason called after him, and Brendon turned in the doorway of the kitchen. Stared back at them as if he knew what the hell to say. But the truth was, he didn't. They told him what they saw. That there was something wrong. That everyone could see that. Well, he couldn't. He just had a few bad days, was all. There was nothing wrong. Everyone got a little anxious sometimes.

"Look. I appreciate that you guys care about my wellbeing but you're looking for a solution to a problem that isn't there. I— I'm okay, you know? I mean, I have a good family and good friends and the best boyfriend in the world. I'm lucky. I don't have any reason to be upset. There's nothing wrong! I'm totally fine. I'm happy." He forced a grin, as if pasting on an artificial happy face would make it true. "See? Happy. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

He didn't wait for a response before he darted upstairs, tears in his eyes. They were wrong. They had to be wrong. He was fine. They had no idea what they were talking about.

Everybody had bad days. Everybody wanted to reach into their throats and pull out the pit of anxiety in their stomachs some days. That was just how people were. He wasn't any different. He was normal. There was nothing wrong with having a few bad thoughts. It happened to everybody.

He was happy. He was happy. He was happy.

He repeated it to himself like a mantra until he fell asleep, staring at the ceiling.

* * *

Brendon's stomach ached uneasily when he woke up to his mother calling him and his siblings awake. He curled up under the covers, squeezing his eyes shut like he was in pain. His conversation with Mason and Kara sat heavy in his mind, and he buried his face in the pillow. He didn't want to go to school. Eight hours of classes. Talking to people. A test in math. He couldn't. He felt like he was going to puke.

They thought he needed help.

He got up and pushed a hand through his hair as he found his glasses, not bothering to get dressed as he made his way downstairs, past the bathroom where he should have been getting ready. His mother looked up with worry when he slid into a seat at the table in the kitchen, trying not to think about last night.

It was just a few bad days. He didn't need any help.

"Is everything okay, ipo?" She asked, sliding him a glass of orange juice, though he denied it. He didn't think he could hold anything down. He felt sick.

"No. I feel sick." He wondered if everybody could read him. If they all knew. "My stomach hurts. Could I stay home today? I kind of just wanna go back to bed."

She was quiet for a moment before she nodded, knowing that Brendon wasn't much of a liar and wouldn't play sick to get out of school. "Sure, baby. I'll get you some ginger ale from downstairs in a little while. Was it something you ate, do you think?"

"I don't know." He looked away from her eyes, scared she'd read them. It was anxiety, he wanted to say, but knew she wouldn't get it. That this felt worse than actually being sick. Like his entire body was hot and cold and he couldn't stop thinking. Were all of them watching him? Did everybody know? Did they tell her? Did they all gather around to talk about how fucked up their little brother was? "Maybe. I just feel like I'm gonna throw up."

She tsked, going to grab him some water instead. He didn't want to tell her about his anxiety. She would just worry. He didn't need to scare her. She thought he was doing better. And he was— this was just a little string of bad days. Just bad days.

Nothing was wrong. He was happy. But he wasn't lying about feeling like he was going to throw up.

"Are you sure you're not pregnant?" Kyla joked, moving around the table to grab her breakfast, and he forced a smile as she peeked over her shoulder.

"Well, that would require having sex. And a uterus. So I'm gonna have to say no." He stood up from his seat. "Sorry. I know you're just dying to be an aunt."

She giggled, and Brendon's mom mimicked whacking him upside the head. "Okay, okay, get outta here. Go rest. Come get me if you need anything, keiki. I'll bring you some ginger ale soon. Try and go back to bed."

"Yeah, I will. Thanks, mama." He nodded gratefully at her and escaped back to his room, leaving his glasses on the side table and burying his face in his pillow. He felt sick. So, so sick.

He was fine.

He just had to keep thinking it until he believed it.

* * *

There was nothing to worry about. Dallon was smiling this stupid, perfect smile as he sat beside him at lunch the next day, telling him about this movie they had to add to the movie list, and there was nothing wrong. He walked him to physics and kissed him outside of the classroom and drove him home and laughed at something funny on the radio. There was nothing to worry about.

So why was Brendon so worried?

He tried to justify it. End of the year jitters: he would be a senior next year. He'd be looking into college and studying for important tests and getting ready for the rest of his life. That was anxiety-inducing. He had a good reason to be nervous.

There were less than twenty days left of the school year. He just had to make it through this. Finish finals and pass his classes and then the summer would be about finding himself. He could do that. He promised himself he could. There was nothing to be worried about. He was just being silly.

Things were good. He and Dallon were learning more about each other, spending almost every day together and making summer plans now that they had the time. He was doing well in his classes, got to go to Kyla and Matt's graduation, and he had two whole months to himself.

With the warmer months came a feeling of rebirth and efflorescence. He told himself that over the summer he would feel better. Newer. He'd have less to stress about. Things would be better. They would be great, really. Perfect.

He knocked on the door in front of him, rocking back and forth on his toes as there was no response. He knew Dallon was home and his mother wasn't working today; he had seen her schedule on the fridge one day. He waited for a minute or two, frowning to himself. He wanted to see him. He'd left a message, said he was going to stop by after work, but he guessed he didn't get it.

Growing impatient, he twisted the doorknob only to find that the door was unlocked. He reminded himself to tell Dallon that he should get around to locking the door and closed it behind himself. He was his boyfriend. It wasn't really trespassing.

Music was playing from down the hall so he followed it, intrigued but somewhat worried, until he poked his head into the spare bedroom to see Dallon standing inside, his bare back facing the door. Brendon shifted his weight. Let himself smile. Observed the softness of his hips and the freckles on his back and the way his muscles moved when he did.

Brendon knocked on the door frame. “Hey.” He chimed, and Dallon startled, turning suddenly to see him standing in the doorway.

“Hi, oh my god. You scared me.” He wiped his forehead off with the back of his hand and leaned down to grab a towel from the floor, his hands coated in black paint.

He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry I just barged in. The door was open. You didn’t answer the phone so I figured I’d come by anyway.”

Dallon turned to look at his mother incredulously. “Mom!”

“Sorry.” She didn’t look all that sorry as she refilled the paint tray. “Forgot to lock it.”

“Hm.” He wiped his hands off on the towel, transferring the color to the already tainted fabric. Brendon watched, intrigued, as he realized they were painting the room black. Streaks of fingerprint lines and handprints were all over the wall, lacking any brushstrokes, and Dallon caught him staring but said nothing as he went to bump his bare elbow against him. “Well, hi. I’m covered in paint so this is all I can give you.”

Brendon bumped his shoulder against his arm playfully, turning to observe the room. “What are you guys doing, anyway? Why are you using your hands? And why are the walls black? Is this like, my new room?”

Dallon smiled and his mother laughed, dipping her hands in the paint again. “I’m making it a darkroom.” He gestured vaguely to the walls. “I did a bunch of research on how to set everything up so I can try developing photos. I just thought it would be a cool thing to spend my time doing this summer. I’ve done it at school and it was fun so I figured I’d try to make my own. It has to be completely black to work, so. Black paint.”

“Oh. Wow. That’s ambitious.” He looked around, trying to avoid Dallon’s obvious shirtlessness and the way sweat gathered on his body. It was hot. A Nevada summer, it had to be.

“Maybe so, but I don’t know. I kinda like the idea of having a room just for my art.” He looked fondly at the walls, though badly painted, and Brendon smiled after him, at his passion and affinity. The light in his eyes. “Anyway, I got the okay from the landlord to paint the room and he’s letting us have as much free paint as we want cause they already had it anyway. Hence the painting with our hands. Normally we wouldn’t waste it, but we realized we didn’t have paint rollers and we already set everything up so we were like, y’know. Finger painting until further notice.”

“That’s innovative. And messy.” He observed, as Dallon’s hands were stained black from the paint. He laughed and looked down at his coated fingers like he had just realized. Dallon liked to make messes. Brendon would learn in time that he’d become adept at cleaning them up.

“Yeah, it is. Speaking of messy, would you mind grabbing me a towel? There’s one on my desk, it should already have some paint on it. This one is sufficiently ruined.”

“Sure.” Brendon disappeared into the hall and slipped into Dallon’s room beside the spare, where art was scattered and everything was a mess. Spring cleaning, it must had been, because it seemed Dallon had begun to sort everything out and was trying to find a place for it all.

There were dozens of unfinished pieces and half-assed paintings and things done purely for practice. Even incomplete everything had its own presence. Some sort of meaning. That was something that, even throughout the years, Brendon would never come to truly understand. How everything had meaning, even the things that didn’t.

They were works of art. Or unemployed pieces of art, as most were unfinished and fragmented. He felt suddenly like he was intruding on something personal. Something he wasn’t supposed to see right now, or maybe never. The part that wasn’t so beautiful. The behind the scenes.

Dallon’s art felt like a collection of secrets. Like he could pick them all up and dress them and slip them into his pocket for later. Brendon didn’t want to materialize any of his secrets. Not really. He hadn’t meant to intrude.

“Brendon?” Dallon’s voice came from down the hall and Brendon startled, not expecting him. It was just a room, no right-side brain, they were just pieces of art and he was just passing by. He picked up the towel and hurried back, trying not to think of the dozens of pieces he’d never seen and doubted he’d see again.

Dallon wiped his forehead with his elbow, slick with sweat, as Brendon began to hand him the towel. “Here. Sorry. Got distracted.” He muttered an excuse, watching as Dallon wiped half-dried paint off of his hands.

“It’s okay. Thank you, babe. I’m organizing all my art stuff so this place is a mess. I figured it’s never too late for spring cleaning, right?” Brendon only smiled, finding more joy these days in listening to Dallon’s thoughts instead of his own. “I’m getting rid of some stuff so if you wanna take any of my work, go ahead. I’m sure you can appreciate it more than my closet walls will.”

“Come on, I think your closet walls are totally supportive.” He teased, poking at him playfully and hoping to get a smile back. He really felt like he needed it today. “Sorry I randomly dropped in. If you’re busy, I can go.”

“No. We can be done for the day. I need a break.” Dallon’s mother stood up straight with a sigh and Dallon handed her the towel, his hands still stained with black.

“Cool.” He turned back toward Brendon, beaming at him. “I’m gonna go wash my hands. Wait in my room?”

“Yeah.” Brendon agreed, and couldn’t help but feel as though he was intruding. He hated showing up unannounced. It was just that sometimes he felt like he needed to see him to stop all the rest of the noise.

He crawled into Dallon’s bed and stared aimlessly at the door, waiting for him and feeling reliant. He didn’t need him. He just wanted him. Wanted to rely on him to make him feel better. That wasn’t a bad thing. At least, he didn’t think so.

Dallon returned and put on a shirt as Brendon’s eyes followed him unseeingly. He needed to get out of his head. It was starting to hurt, being trapped in there all the time. “So, I’ve been doing a bunch of organizing. I have to sort through a bunch of stuff, if you don’t mind. Unless you have any suggestions.”

Brendon shook his head. “No. Just wanted to be around you. Go ahead.” He nodded his head at him, chin atop his pillow. “Thanks for letting me stay.” He added after a second, not ignorant nearly enough to his own guilt.

Dallon looked over his shoulder as he got down on the floor, gathering his paints to sort. “I like when you visit. It’s nice to know you’re thinking about me.”

“I always am.” They exchanged smiles and Brendon settled down comfortably, making himself at home. Anywhere but his own home right now. He had to pretend his thoughts weren’t his. That his siblings thought... well, he wasn’t a broken record on top of just plain broken.

“So.” Dallon sat down on the floor with a grunt and Brendon barely looked up as he curled up in Dallon’s bed. “Since you are such a fan of being clean and organized, would you like to do the honors of fixing this mess?” He gestured to his wooden box of paints, grinning hopefully at him.

Brendon shifted to sit up on his elbows. “Wow, he’s putting me to work.” He accused in pretend shock, but got up despite his comfort. He liked keeping his mind off of things. He liked helping Dallon sometimes, too. It made him feel useful. ”Of course I’ll do it, dork.”

“Thank you. I’m so overwhelmed.” He sighed, head thrown back, as he watched Brendon join him on the floor. His room was a mess of intriguing little things but it was a mess all the same. Brendon got to him sometimes, he thought. Feeling like he needed to clean to feel better. Dallon was starting to learn that trait. “I’m trying to get rid of everything I have that I don’t like so that I can make room for new stuff but my mom thinks I should keep it for comparison and whatever. And I have a really hard test coming up, I don’t know what’s going on in my class at all, and then I have to start thinking about building a portfolio for college and future jobs and it’s just... ugh. Sorry. You didn’t come here to listen to me be whiny and annoying.”

“I came here to find out how you are. Talk to me about anything. Really.” He shoved Dallon’s knee and didn’t tell him that he wanted to help partly because he didn’t want to focus on himself. “I’ll help you clean. I could use the distraction. And then I can help you study. Do flashcard type of stuff, or whatever.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Dallon sighed, and Brendon didn’t say out loud that he was sorry about his anxiety but he knew how he felt. Being overwhelmed. That was something that felt like home to Brendon.

He sorted tubes of paint by brand and color and Dallon went through his artwork, choosing a few things to throw away but keeping mostly all of it. And every couple of minutes, as Brendon moved on to clean out his desk drawers, he wished that Dallon knew how good at everything he was. How envious he’d get sometimes, because he’d make a face or comment about his own work and Brendon thought it should be in a museum nonetheless.

“You’re so talented,” Brendon said after a few minutes, just because he felt like it needed to be said. Dallon looked up, not expecting that, and Brendon only smiled before he went back to testing pens.

Dallon stared after him, words caught in his throat. I love you, he wanted to say. He didn’t know how to say it.

Dallon calmed down after decluttering his room. He was distracted and so was Brendon, in a different way, and neither of them said anything but they were both silent. Lost in their own thoughts. They tended to get that way.

“Wanna study?” Brendon asked, and joined Dallon on his bed.

Happiness was subjective. That was just a fact. It could be measured in thousands of ways. So who was he to say he wasn’t happy? He had a wonderful family. Great friends. A perfect boyfriend. He couldn’t be unhappy with all of that. So it was just silly to think that there was something wrong. He was happy. All of the good things trumped the few bad ones.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

Brendon hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the middle of studying but at one point, Dallon looked up to see him curled up in his bed, basking in the glow of the sunset and reaching for the sheets in his sleep. Dallon only watched him, the way he breathed, how strange it was for him to be alive, how lucky they were to be alive at the same time. Dallon always saw that as a virtue. He reached out gently to remove Brendon’s glasses and tucked him in, going to study at his desk instead.

* * *

Brown eyes fluttered as sunlight bled into the colorful room. Fingers carded through his messy hair as he burrowed into the pillow, squinting his eyes closed more and wishing to stay asleep. He didn’t even really remember falling asleep in the first place. He hadn’t meant to.

It took him a minute to realize where he was, but when he did he relaxed. Dallon had become overzealous during the night, reaching out to pull him close, as Brendon tended to cuddle anything he could find as he slept.

Dallon wondered briefly if he had been too negligent. He just didn’t want to set Brendon off, that was all, as he was like a time bomb sometimes. In denial and using silly defense mechanisms to protect himself. Somewhere between reaction formation and sublimation.

He moved into Dallon further and Dallon knew he was awake, but didn’t say anything yet. He knew what it meant when Brendon slept against him. He felt safe. Dallon had promised he would be, hadn’t he? He couldn’t remember.

He and Brendon had exchanged so many words by then, so many meaningful transactions of syllables that left tongues too soon, jumbled messes, fumbled words, incorrect meanings.

How many had there been? How many had been assigned more meaning than one had initially let on? Whispers under covers as just friends, laughs into empty rooms, mouthed hellos in the halls when that was all there was time for. But he could hear it now, feel ghosted lips against his ear, a reminiscence. I promise I'll keep you safe. He still wanted to keep that promise.

Brendon lifted his head suddenly, the fingers slipping from where they were tangled in his hair, and tilted his chin upward to squint at Dallon in the light. “Morning.” He yawned, beginning to stretch an arm out and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the other.

“Good morning, bumblebee. Did I wake you?”

Brendon shifted to his own side of the bed, having laid on Dallon half the night like he was the bed itself. With a sigh he shook his head, curling in on himself and tugging up the covers again. “Mm-mm.” He hummed, eyes closed again as he got comfortable. “I had this dream that I was at this bay, and I was walking on this dock and I was trying to get all these people's attention, but it was like no one could hear me. And I didn't know where I was and no one would answer me, it was like I was invisible, but I didn't care. I was just... calm, I guess. Psychoanalyze me?"

"It sounds like you're okay with where you are right now." That couldn't be farther from the truth, and somehow both of them knew.

Brendon didn't open his eyes, just made a noise of acknowledgment and pulled on the blanket to swaddle himself in a cocoon. He felt Dallon shift onto his side, examine the gentleness of his features in the morning, somehow softer than he often was. Dallon wondered why Brendon was putting on a facade. Brendon let him wonder. Just to keep the mystery alive.

He was at peace. He always was when he slept in Dallon’s bed. He found solace in the silence of mornings where he had nowhere to be. No reason to get up. It was like the way that his mind felt just manifested itself into his physical space. And Dallon stared at him, loved him, and wanted to tell him but felt like it was never the right time. He wanted him to always be this at peace.

Brendon smiled suddenly, that one smile. The one that would be ingrained in Dallon's memory forever, because some smiles could never be forgotten. "God, your bed is so comfortable. Can we trade beds? I'd kill to be this comfortable all the time."

He should smile more, Dallon thought. His smile deserved to be seen. “You should be.”

Brendon’s eyes opened to meet crystal blue ones, confused for a moment as Dallon watched him like he knew something Brendon didn’t. That could be a scary look in itself. Brendon didn’t like not knowing things, and he especially didn’t like not knowing what was going on in Dallon’s head. That was dangerous. That was a dangerous place.

Brendon blinked, squinted, and then it dawned on him. "I fell asleep while we were studying, didn't I?" He asked, and Dallon didn’t answer, only smiled, but the silence was answer enough. “Shoot. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’ve been so tired lately; I’ve barely been getting any sleep and-“

“Hey, don’t worry about it. You don’t have to justify sleeping here. You’re always welcome.” Dallon rubbed his side gently. “I texted your mom to let her know you were sleeping here. She said it was fine so I just let you sleep. I didn’t wanna wake you up.” Brendon smiled again, less concerned now, as Dallon’s hand trailed up to brush hair out of his eyes. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good. I always sleep well here. Thank you for letting me stay.” He made a noise of comfort, curling up again, and Dallon should have been glad that Brendon trusted him and felt safe and loved his home but his throat closed, anyway, and he found it hard to breathe.

Something unmistakable, something— something hard to swallow, but he couldn’t tell what it was. He just didn’t want Brendon to know. He was a good actor, though, because his eyes gave away nothing and he had gotten so good at hiding his truths.

“Of course.” Dallon’s fingers danced along his arm and pulled away with reluctance. And any doubt that Brendon had about Dallon’s consciousness to his faults disappeared when he added, voice worried and clearly hesitant, “what’s going on, Bren?”

Brendon opened his eyes again, his anxiety sharp now in his chest. He didn’t think he would be so bold. He guessed he ended up underestimating Dallon too much. He was a lot smarter than he knew. Brendon stalled for a minute, sitting up against the pillows and meeting Dallon’s eyes painfully, not doing a good enough job at hiding it.

He wanted to hide. He wanted to get out of bed and run or deny it or hide. But there was nowhere safe to. There was too much under the bed and the closet was full of skeletons. “What do you mean?” He asked dumbly, hoping it wasn’t what he thought it meant.

Dallon sat up, watching Brendon watch him like a deer in the headlights. “I just. I kind of noticed that for a few weeks, you’ve been acting off. Not like yourself. I don’t want to overstep and I don’t mean to be invasive but I’d like to think that you can trust me.”

“I can trust you,” Brendon assured him.

“Good. Because you know you can tell me anything.” He set a hand on his arm, feeling how tense he really was. Like he had been caught. Had he? “Are you okay? Because, like. I can tell you’re not, and I really want to be here for you but I don’t know how. If there’s anything I can do, Brendon, I want to do it. I care about you. And I don’t want you to be upset. Especially not about this. Me trying to help, or me overstepping, or whatever.”

Brendon sat up too, and he could feel himself look at Dallon with fear before he fixed his features to mask it. He wasn’t good at acting. Not like Dallon was. But this wasn’t any of his concern. Brendon could keep secrets too. “I’m not upset. You’re not overstepping.” He let out a weak laugh, trying to come across as playful and not as exposed as he felt. “I guess I’m not good at hiding, huh?”

Dallon shook his head, but he didn’t smile too. He just looked solemn. Sad, almost. Brendon didn’t blame him for being worried. He just didn’t need to be. “Well, I'm always able to find you. Or vice versa, I guess. You've done most of the finding. But you always show up, so. Yeah. You're not exactly a master of disguise."

Brendon nodded in agreement with a sigh, looking away and at the rumpled sheets instead. Was that a good thing? He couldn’t really tell anymore. He thought it was safer to hide but being vulnerable felt just as safe sometimes. Just not right now. He was still trying to find the line of where it was and wasn’t.

They knew each other well after just a few months. It was as much of a good thing as it was terrifying.

“I don’t know. I’m okay. For the past few weeks maybe I’ve been feeling kind of weird, but it’s not really a new feeling. I get like this every once in a while. Like when I was younger. Scared. I’m not scared now, not so much. It’s just a little anxiety. It’s not anything to worry about.” He brushed it off as he did everything else.

“What if it is, Brendon?”

Brendon looked up at him. He was startled at his effrontery, Dallon was never so forward, but there was a reason Dallon knew him well. He was good at getting him to open up. That in itself was fatal.

“It’s not that serious, Dallon. Come on." He forced a laugh, trying to seem nonchalant but fearing that he was coming across as scared. "It’s just anxiety. Everyone gets anxiety. Everyone gets worried. It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, Brendon,” Dallon said like he was offended at the assumption. “And it’s not nothing. I know what it’s like to have anxiety. It sucks. And I don’t think you should brush it off like it’s not there.”

Brendon didn’t look at him. “I don’t see why it’s so important when it’s just some passing thing.”

“You said it’s been going on since you were younger?” Dallon asked then, a hint of conviction in his tone, and Brendon looked challengingly up at him only to see that Dallon looked the same. “Look. All I’m saying is that it might— it might be something more. And I think that’s worth talking about.”

“Well. I don’t exactly feel like talking about it.” He bristled away, and Dallon shifted uncomfortably at what could be confrontation. “I’m sorry,” Brendon added quickly. Dallon looked hesitant, though, he always did when someone snapped at him. “I’m sorry, Dal. Thank you for caring. I know you care.”

“I just want you to be okay,” Dallon said quietly. Brendon knew that too. But he was okay. He was fine. Dallon wasn’t getting that.

“I’m okay, baby. I promise.” He crossed his heart, swore he was okay, but his fake smile said enough. Brendon never meant to be a liar. It was just what he really believed. Dallon didn’t say anything, not in so many words, but his skepticism was clear from the look in his eyes and the observation. He knew Brendon Urie’s smiles. He knew his artificial ones, too.

That night he laid in bed, staring at the ceiling again and thinking about what Dallon had said. He wasn’t brushing it off, was he? He was just used to it. The anxiety. It was commonplace for him. He didn’t see the point in making a big deal out of something he was so familiar with. Sometimes familiar things were comforting in themselves.

All of a sudden he sat up in bed, feeling like he was crawling out of his skin. He felt trapped. Disgusted. He looked around his room, and he was used to the mess by now but it looked so dirty for some reason. Like he could see all the germs. He didn’t want to live with it. With himself, either.

Angry tears blurred his vision as he scrubbed the floor, trying to get it spotless. Pristine. Deafening music blared through his speakers and his head ached as his fingers turned pruney with the water on the washcloth, and-

“Brendon.” His mother called suddenly, voice raised, and Brendon snapped his head up to look at her, standing in his doorway skeptically and leaning against the doorframe. “What are you doing, babe?” She asked, and he reached out to turn the music down. “I haven’t seen you clean your room in forever. I actually don’t think I’ve ever seen you clean your room.”

He sat up on his knees, about to argue though he stopped himself quickly when he realized that was true, he never really cleaned. He just felt like he had to now. “I know. But now it just— it suddenly looks so dirty in here.” He sighed, and as he looked around he realized that it didn’t look or feel much cleaner at all. “It’s overwhelming. I just wanted to get everything clean.” She sat down on the edge of his bed as she watched him push the rag he was holding away. "I feel like Cinderella."

She laughed quietly, a sympathy laugh, he knew because he had come to know it well. She knew everything. He needed to build his walls up again, twice as high and three times as thick. He was getting too easy. Too expressive. "I think we should talk."

He didn't meet her eyes, filled with this look of concern he knew too well, just clicked the music off before he pushed himself up to stand. "I think we should." He agreed with a sigh, and sat down beside her on his bed. He needed to get it off of his chest. He was sick of them all tiptoeing. They all knew already, so he might as well squash all the rumors and say it himself. "I don’t know what’s wrong with me, mama. I feel gross and nervous all the time. Like I wanna just reach into my stomach and pull out my anxiety cause it just sits there. I don’t know why I’m anxious. I don’t know what I have to be anxious about.”

“There’s not always a reason.” She reasoned, but if that were true then anxiety just made no sense. He wanted to have a reason, something to pin the blame on. “And there’s nothing wrong with you, Bren. This is normal. Plenty of people get anxious. It’s just that maybe this is a little too much for you. Especially right now. I mean, you have finals, and you’ve got a lot going on with Dallon, and I think it might be time that you start seeing someone again.”

“I don’t want to, mama. I don’t have anything to talk about. I’m just trying to figure out what’s wrong. I need to do that and then everything will be okay.” He assured her. She looked skeptical, though, because Brendon overcompensated. Tried to convince people of things he didn’t even really know himself. He couldn’t tell if he was lying anymore. What were lies, anyway? Hidden truths, sure, but he— he wasn’t lying.

He was tired. It was just... more than that. He was scared. Overthinking. It felt like everything was weighing him down, pressing down on his chest, filling the spaces between his ribs and flooding his lungs. But how could he tell her that?

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to anyone?” She asked after a minute, still so adamant even after all the times he’d told her no.

“I’m sure.” He insisted a bit too forcefully, and she said nothing but sighed as she pat his thigh. He didn’t mean to be harsh. He just didn’t know how else to get his point across.

It was getting so familiar, feeling so out of place. Like he wasn’t a part of himself. He knew he was making bad decisions. He was only hurting himself. But when that was a habit, it was so hard to make a change.

“If that’s what you want to do.” She said after a minute, and Brendon looked down at his lap, waiting for her to get up and leave like people always did when he pushed them away. “I’m here for you, though. If you want help, I mean.” She headed to the door and he swallowed thickly, nodding. I’m here for you. He’d heard that one a million times. “Alright. We’re going to bed, then. If you need anything...” She nodded her head toward the hall.

“Okay. Love you.” He forced a smile and she blew a kiss, making sure to close the door behind her. He watched her go, wanted to say something else but couldn’t think of the words, and instead got back down on the floor. Everything was so messy. So dirty.

He was exhausted. The floor was wet and shiny but he still could only see germs, all the steps that had ever been taken on it and the dust and the trash. He’d been cleaning for hours and he wanted to stop, give up, go to bed, but he couldn’t. He needed to clean the outside to feel like the inside was clean too.

He could call Dallon and ask him to distract him, but he didn’t want to bother him. He could text Tyler, but he already knew how that conversation would go. Hi. Hey, what's up? Oh, y'know, just scrubbing the floors. Oh, so you're on your knees? Everybody was just so predictable to him.

He got up off the floor, leaving the washcloth behind as he went to click off the light, as his room looked better in the dark anyway. But instead of his own bed he slipped out of his room, suddenly too cold, and crept into the dark hallway where no lights shone under the doors. It was a Sunday night, everyone was asleep, but he pushed open the door to his parent’s room and snuck in without knocking.

His mother looked up, squinting through the dark, and as if he had just realized that there was something wrong, he stared back at her from the end of her bed. He didn’t know how to fix this. What there was to fix.

She extended an arm, an invitation, and he crawled in between his parents. “Baby.” She whispered as he buried his face in her shoulder. Everything was okay. He was okay. He just didn’t know why he was trembling all of a sudden.

Things were fine. Everything was fine.

He wasn’t pretending. He wasn’t faking every single smile. What everyone said wasn’t true.

He was fine. He was fine. He just needed to sleep.


	20. Chapter 19: Their Skeletons (Black and White)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> luv

Brendon picked at his food quietly and tilted his head to watch Dallon talk to their friends at the lunch table, only half listening because he didn't have to. Finals were over, one after the other for hours until they all blurred together and stopped making sense. His head hurt and so did his eyes but it was almost over. Finals. School.

Dallon laughed quietly and Brendon smiled to himself, cheek in his hand. He and Dallon had been together for a few months and while it wasn't long, he'd spent the past eight months getting to know him like no one else had, as a friend and then as more. And for just as long he'd had the privilege of getting to know Dallon Weekes through the taste of his lips and the sound of his voice and his secrets because Brendon was easy to trust for some reason.

And the thing was, Dallon was easy to trust too. Brendon needed that, that ease, and he needed Dallon, he'd realized somewhere down the line. He wanted him too, more than he had thought, the way he took backroads because the main ones weren't wild enough and how he laughed at Brendon's stories. How he whispered to him when they were in public like passing notes in secrecy and how he kissed him when he was in the middle of saying something and the way he drove him crazy in the best way and his smile. Brendon wanted that smile forever.

And then one day Brendon realized what the past eight months had preceded, and he had fallen in love with Dallon so hard that he should have been expecting it but wasn't.

He just had to figure out a way to tell him.

It was too soon, he knew that, and he kept the realization tucked in his back pocket for later because he didn't know how to say it. It felt too personal to tell Tyler and his family and even Dallon yet, because he wanted it to be special. He wanted it to be a moment. But he knew what he felt. His pulse picked up when he saw him, and his heart swelled in his chest when he heard his name, and the way he smiled when he heard his voice, or felt his skin, or thought about him. And the way he realized that he was certain he could never live without him.

He could write it in a note and leave it tucked safely in his backpack where he wouldn't find it until Brendon wasn't around to blush and fear that it wouldn't be returned. He could drop it in at the end of a phone call and hang up so fast that Dallon couldn't even let his next breath leave his lips, with no time for him to answer. He could sit him down and tell him flat out that he didn't care about time or change or keeping everything in a box. His entire life, he had everything planned, but never could he have planned for this.

He never saw him coming, and he would never be the same.

He could send him flowers and leave a note tucked in between the stems; he could bake a heart-shaped cake with "I love you" written in the frosting. Write a song for him, spell it out in rose petals, hire a skywriter, convince him to have sex so he could tell him in the moment that they were closest, whispered words in his ear, two bodies but one feeling shared between them.

He could do something stupid and over the top, but it wasn't him. It wasn't them. He could leave it to his eyes, always adoring and giving away too much, they were too expressive, they were too readable. But Dallon would never get that. So what could he do? How could he say it? Should he even say it at all? All his life, he had everything planned. But this, he could never plan for this.

“Hi, boys." Tyler greeted his friends cheerfully as he took a seat beside in between Josh and Ryan, smiling not unlike Brendon because they had just finished their last final of the day and when the final bell rang summer would be let off its leash and set free. And it was a cliché but it was true, the high school student waiting for summer, counting the seconds, planning out the next two months with excitement because it was the only time they got to be free.

"Hey, you're all coming to my birthday party tonight, right?" Josh brought up, catching Brendon's attention because he didn't know there was a party.

"I'd say yes if you told me you were having a party," Dallon lamented. Josh smiled like he knew he probably should have, he always forgot to tell them about plans, and Brendon opened his chocolate milk only for Tyler to snatch it from him.

"I second that. What are you doing? It's not like... a big party, is it?"

Josh waved a hand at him and Brendon folded his arms, unreasonably anxious. He wished he had been given a warning. "No, don't worry, just a few people. Food, cake. Mario Kart and hanging out for a little while."

"Dr. Pepper," Dallon added.

"Of course, man. Just for you."

"Then I'm in." Dallon smiled, and elbowed Brendon in the side because it was more or less an obligation than an invite.

Brendon showed up at the Weekes apartment at some point that evening, being let in by an elderly woman with a bulldog he always pet when he came in, right behind the ears because that was how he liked it. He was nervous as he made his way up the elevator, he never knew how to act around people because he'd never learned. He spent so much of his life hiding.

"Hi, cutie." Dallon greeted him at the door, looping an arm around his neck and kissing his forehead, in a strangely good mood. "How are you?"

It meant more than how are you, it was an are you okay, are you anxious, do you want to stay home, but Brendon smiled when their eyes met because he was okay. It was one night. Getting out would be good for him anyway. Getting to know people and spending time with his friends. "I'm good, Dal. I feel better. Ready." He grinned, and Dallon rested a hand on his shoulder. "Are you?"

"Yep, let's get a move on." He took his hand and spun him around just for fun because he loved to see Brendon laugh. And Brendon did, managing to catch his waist before he tripped, and he promised himself that it was going to be a good night.

"Okay." Brendon giggled, smoothing down his shirt to make sure he was presentable.

Dallon led him to the front door and crouched down to pull on his converse, peeking up into the kitchen. "Hey, we're going. I'll text you when I'm coming home."

"Okay. Drive safe, don't drink, and if you do call a Lyft or sleep at Josh's. And don't eat too much junk food, please." He got up to stand in the doorway, folding his arms and managing a smile as Brendon rocked back and forth on his heels. "And—" She added but stopped before she could finish, staring at him like he was supposed to get it. And Brendon didn't understand, wasn't sure if he was supposed to, because she looked between him and Dallon, not saying something.

And then it clicked because Dallon nodded, turning to Brendon like suddenly he remembered he was there. "Babe, can you get my jacket? The one with the patches." He gestured aimlessly to his chest and Brendon nodded slowly, skeptical, because he wasn't supposed to know. There was something he didn't know.

Wordlessly he walked down the hall to Dallon's room, trying his best to eavesdrop; he couldn't hear anything. It was this secret language between family, he had that with his own. But he thought he and Dallon didn't have secrets. He thought they didn't have to. But maybe whatever this was, he didn't want to face it.

He found Dallon's jacket hanging up on the back of his door and lingered for a minute, giving him some space, scared to go back. Dallon didn't hide things from him. Not so blatantly and unforgivingly. He didn't. Brendon was anxious again when he headed back toward the kitchen with Dallon's jacket in hand, despite it being June in Nevada. He didn't really need it.

"Thank you." He kissed Brendon's cheek and Brendon shied away from it, not knowing what to say. Something didn't feel right. He turned to his mom, nodding a goodbye, as he tugged on his jacket and went to wrap an arm around Brendon's shoulders.

He led Brendon out of the apartment and to the elevator in silence, Brendon glaring and then looking away when he decided that that wouldn't get him anywhere. He loved Dallon. He just didn't love not knowing what was going on. He thought he could trust him. He thought that they didn't have secrets.

“You okay?” Brendon asked quietly, following him to his car as the door to the garage fell shut behind them.

“Yeah. Are you? I know you don't like social situations.” He turned the conversation away from himself breezily but Brendon knew, and hated that he did.

"Mhm. I'm okay." He looked away like he did when he lied, promising himself he'd ask later.

"Okay. Good. Let's go, then." Dallon opened the passenger seat door for him, and Brendon tried to smile.

* * *

Brendon crossed his arms as he sat impatiently in the passenger seat that evening, waiting as Dallon climbed in beside him and slammed the door shut. He had been quiet all day, but then again so had Dallon. Brendon was unsure as to whether he knew there was something bothering him or it was just a bad day.

"What's on your mind, Urie?" Dallon asked all of a sudden, as if reading his mind, still sitting in the parking spot down the street from the party.

Brendon turned to look at him hesitantly, the sky dark now, and the streetlights made his face look softer. More innocent, though Brendon knew he wasn't. Or rather, he would come to know. He was nervous, squirming in his seat like Dallon were putting him on the spot. "I don't know. Just. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dallon assured, though the response was far too instantaneous to be true. Brendon knew him well by now, that he tended to lie when he didn't want to tell the truth. He had never been good at reading people, but then again Dallon was different. Dallon was in a different sphere of knowledge for him.

"Tell me the truth," Brendon demanded, but it was too tired to sound like a demand. "You've been weird all night. Why?"

"It's nothing, Brendon." He sighed. Brendon turned toward him, and as Dallon reached out to grab his seatbelt behind him, Brendon placed a hand on his forearm, making him stop immediately.

"Hey." He said gently, trying to show he wasn't mad, just worried, and caliginous blue eyes flickered up to his own with something unreadable underneath them. Guilt, maybe. Shame. Remorse. "You know you can tell me anything."

Dallon sat back in his seat and dropped his hands in his lap with defeat. He was quiet for a moment, staring at the dark in front of them, unmoving as Brendon watched, waiting.

Brendon didn't understand a lot of things: that, he knew. Especially things about Dallon. He didn't understand a lot of the things he did or said, but at first he thought that that was a good thing. It was like opening a present on Christmas morning every time he found something out about him.

But after a while, it became more of a burden. Not knowing. And now he was sitting there wondering if he really even knew who he was with, and Dallon was silent, trying to find words that wouldn't make him come across as a liar.

"Okay. Uh. I guess I had to tell you this sooner or later." He ran his hands over his thighs, ostensibly nervous, and still didn't meet Brendon's eyes as the boy watched him, nervous now too; he didn't like long silences or sentences that started that way. "Just. Promise you won't see me differently."

"Yeah. I promise." Brendon agreed without a second thought, but after he'd said it he wondered transiently if Dallon had known that Brendon had put him in a box. If he was cognizant to the fact that he was on a pedestal. He didn't want to put him up there, not at first, but he found himself never letting anything pull him down from it.

Dallon wasn't untouchable. The thought was jarring.

"So. Uh. After I turned fifteen I kind of... shut off. When my dad died. I didn't know what to do with that. Who to be after that. So I was really disconnected from everything and everyone. I didn't go to school for the rest of the year, Ryan basically moved in for a few weeks to make sure I was okay, it was just— I don't know. It was bad. I don't wanna relive it, but that's the only way I know how to describe it. It was really bad. And it was bad for a while, and I just got sick of it."

"Anybody would," Brendon supplied, not quite knowing what else to say.

Dallon let out a shaky breath, looking away when he could feel brown eyes watching him. "I planned it for a while. Not a while— maybe a week or so. I sprained my ankle doing some damage control so I had these painkillers. Part of me liked the pain so I didn't take them all when I was prescribed them. I didn't really take any, actually. So they were almost all there. A couple dozen. So I hid the bottle in the back of the medicine cabinet and one day when my mom was out, I took them all." He paused, and Brendon reached out to touch his hand to remind him that he was there. "It was so liberating. Pouring them out. Seeing them in the palm of my hand. I felt so out of control for weeks and it was like— this one thing I had control over. My mom got home early and found me. I was still awake. I don't remember it all that well. It's really fuzzy. I remember screaming at her though. Trying to kick the paramedics." He laughed a little, twisting their fingers together. "It was stupid. I don't know. But they had to pump my stomach and put me on suicide watch and whatever. I spent some time in the hospital. Familiarized myself with it."

Brendon didn't know what to say so he was silent, holding a hand that suddenly felt too cold and watching him talk as if it were an honor to be able to. In a way, it was. Dallon was here. That was enough for him to be grateful for.

"The doctors said that I have depression. I didn't believe that for a while: I mean, I was traumatized. My dad died unexpectedly. Not to mention the fact that I had recently come out so I was already having all these wars with my own beliefs. I guess I didn't really wanna believe it. I mean, no one wants depression. No one wants to be sick."

Brendon sniffled, only then realizing the gravity of the situation. He could have been dead. He wasn't, and that was important, but it still felt somewhat like he was talking to a ghost. "Who else knows?"

"Just Ryan and Josh. I remember I told Josh first. He was the least scary to tell. He's more understanding. Happier, so things like that don't affect him as much. Plus, at that point I hadn't known him too long, and it was less serious, I guess. It had less gravity. I almost didn't wanna tell Ryan."

"Why not?" Brendon wondered out loud.

"Because it's terrifying telling someone you love something like that." He insisted, maybe a bit harshly if not for the substance of the conversation. "That's why I didn't tell you. People see you differently. Everyone in my life knows about this except you and I wanted to keep you away from that."

"But you know you can trust me, Dal." He assured him, trying not to sound mad. He wasn't. He was just worried. Concerned. Anybody would be. "You know I'm here for you."

"I know. And I wanted to tell you. I just didn't really know how. I know I shouldn't have hidden it from you. It's part of me being manipulative and I try really hard not to be that way with you. I know I can be sometimes. I just... I know how you feel about me and I didn't want that to change. I like that I'm pristine to you. I like that you like me. And I don't want you to see me differently because there's something wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong with you," Brendon refuted.

"But there is, Brendon. And I never wanted to lie about that. It's who I am. And I love you way too much to burden you with who I am."

"You're not a burden, Dallon. And I'm not gonna see you differently no matter what. I don't want you to be scared to be yourself or to tell me things that you think I'm gonna hate you for." He tugged on his hand, eyes big and honest, as Dallon turned to meet them. "I love you too. And I wanna know things about you. Please don't be scared of me."

"I'm not," Dallon promised, shaking his head, and he pulled Brendon into a hug at the sudden feeling of being overwhelmed. "Fuck." He whispered, tightening his grip, and Brendon didn't say anything, just hugged him back harder. He loved him. He didn't know why that didn't feel so scary to him after years of wondering what it would be like. "I don't want you to worry about me."

"I know," Brendon said, because he wasn't going to lie and tell him he wouldn't. Brendon worried: that was what he did. He pulled away and Dallon wiped tears off his cheeks, never keen on crying in front of people. Brendon knew that about him. "Are you okay now, though? You're not, like. Gonna..."

"I'm not gonna. I'm okay." He promised, and the affirmation was comforting, to say the least. Brendon's chest ached and he didn't know if it was a good or bad hurt.

"Okay. Can I ask you something?" He asked gently, turning his body completely toward him, and Dallon nodded. "You said that that's part of you being manipulative. Not telling me all of this sooner. What do you mean?"

"I'm, like... a really manipulative person, Bren." He started hesitantly, and their hands met again on instinct. "It's part of the depression, or whatever. So, I have, like, these issues with my personality. You know, depression is a mood disorder. And they didn't exactly know how to diagnose me at first. They didn't know if it was anxiety or depression or bipolar or borderline or what. There was a lot of stuff that it could have been." He stopped to think. "It's hard to explain. It's basically characterized by extreme mood swings, and being impulsive, and having this intense fear that people are against me or are gonna leave me. Which is why I pushed my friends away back before you and I were friends. I was scared they were gonna push me away first. So sometimes I do shitty things to keep people. And in that way, I manipulated you. I think hiding who I am is manipulative. And I'm sorry."

"No," Brendon brushed it off, because he didn't see it that way. They were getting to know each other. They had only been in each other's lives for a short while.

"I'm on antidepressants. That's what this morning was about. My mom was reminding me to take it because I forgot and usually I don't. I'm really good at not forgetting. And it's not like I didn't wanna tell you, because I did, I was planning to, I just didn't really know when. It's hard to just be like, hey, I know I've been lying to you but I'm fucked up and you never knew. Surprise!"

"Dallon. Dal. Stop that. I don't think you're fucked up." Brendon bumped his knee against their hands, fingers intertwined. Everybody had their skeletons. Everybody had something to hide sometimes. Brendon couldn't blame him for that: he had always been scared of his own skeletons, anyway. "I think it's really brave of you to tell me all this. I know it's probably not easy."

"Yeah." Dallon agreed with a wet laugh, trying not to cry. He felt pathetic. He never did this. Cried about his problems to someone who didn't need to hear it.

Brendon wondered why he didn't know. How he hadn't figured it out sooner. If he just didn't pay enough attention. He thought he had Dallon figured out, but then again it took a lot to learn who somebody was. He hadn't mapped him out completely. Something told him he wouldn't anytime soon.

He crossed his arms, watching Dallon look anywhere but at him. "So. Antidepressants, huh?" He asked suddenly with nervousness laced between each syllable, cutting through the silence like a knife. Dallon looked up at him again, and Brendon knew it was probably the wrong thing to say, but then again everything would be. He didn't know what to say. He'd never been in this kind of conversation before. "Do they affect you a lot?"

He stalled for a second, thinking. He wasn't ready for this conversation. Neither of them were ready for this conversation. "Um, yeah, but not— not in a bad way. They help. A lot. They make me a lot better than I was without them. I'm not as impulsive, I can control myself when I'm angry so I don't lash out. The meds help a lot, but... I'm still me. I'm still all the stuff I have to cover up."

"You don't have to cover anything up," Brendon tried.

"No, I do," Dallon corrected without a second thought. "There's a lot wrong with me, Bren. A lot that I need to fix. Or at least try to fix. The meds are really good for me. They don't fix me, they won't cure me, but they help keep the suicidal thoughts at bay." Brendon didn't mean to wince, but after a second, Dallon added, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't-"

"No, it's okay. I just..." He squirmed around in his seat, trying to find the words to explain how he was feeling.

"Don't like thinking about me being suicidal," Dallon finished for him, and Brendon nodded with reluctance. He didn't want to be insensitive. He just wished he had known sooner. That he could have helped, or wasn't so oblivious, or that he knew what to say now, because he was still just as lost as he would have been had he been prepared for this. "I get it."

"Sorry. I know it's like, a part of you." He apologized.

"No, it's okay. It is a part of me, but the meds help." He tilted his head back to look at Brendon, not smiling but not not smiling. “I went off of them for a while my sophomore year. Which is why it's really important that I take them: I know how I am without them. I just didn't wanna hide it from you. I wanted to tell you eventually. I just didn't know how."

"I appreciate that you're telling me now, for what it's worth." Brendon offered, because it was true. It wasn't easy telling people things like that. He was just grateful Dallon trusted him with his past.

"I appreciate that you're being so great about this," Dallon returned, and at that Brendon could only smile. They fell back into a comfortable silence, and Brendon felt at peace for a moment, wondering if the feeling in his chest was finality or warmth or wonder.

"So," Brendon added after a minute, and Dallon turned to look at him, up from where he had begun to wring his hands. He looked ready for rejection: Brendon wondered if that was his default to the people who knew. "You told me you loved me."

"Yeah," Dallon said softly, and for a minute Brendon thought he'd refute, be embarrassed, as Dallon wasn't good at telling people how he felt. "Yeah, I did. I didn't... like, mean to tell you like this. I didn't even really know how to tell you or if I should. If people still make a big deal out of it."

"I make a big deal out of everything," Brendon figured, a shy smile on his lips.

"That's true," Dallon agreed, and Brendon smacked his arm but laughed fondly at him. "I know it's fast. It's too soon. I just... I kind of figured you knew already. I didn't think I should ruin it with words."

"I'm glad you did." Brendon bumped his thigh playfully. He loved him. He loved him. It felt so unreal but yet he wondered why this all hadn't happened sooner. He'd wanted to say it for weeks, the words always somehow on the tip of his tongue, but Dallon was right. It was too soon. It just felt right. "I don't want you to worry about me, Dallon. I can handle it. We're in this together."

"Yeah, we are." Dallon's eyes were a shattering aquamarine in the dark as Brendon stared back at him, overcome with adoration. "Thank you. For understanding." He added after a moment, voice quiet and disbelieving like no one had understood before. Brendon knew they did, but this felt purer. More honest. Brendon sat up to pull him into a hug and instantly Dallon buried his face into Brendon's hair, holding him tight against him. "Fuck. I love you."

"I love you too," Brendon whispered into the crook of his neck, inhaling the smell of his shampoo. He loved him. He loved him. His heart hurt, but it was a good kind of pain, the can't live without you pain, the kind that Brendon would do anything to feel, even just fleetingly. Something warm bubbled in his stomach, like champagne bubbles in a perfect glass with no chips or discoloration. A perfectly pristine fragment of something he didn't quite understand yet, but he would.

Dallon pulled away, looking like he was going to cry, but in a good way. He laughed, wiped his cheek though there were no tangible tears, and said blatantly, "Tonight has been intense."

"Yeah, it has been," Brendon agreed; it felt like a bad drama. Dredging up Dallon's past and trying to remember why he was scared of his own. The night was long, longer than he had been expecting, somehow more painful and tiring and blurry. And he was glad it was over, ending on a good note, starting something new because he was more excited about the future than worried about the past. "You wanna stay over tonight? We can watch something from the Movie List and order food and not tell my siblings so we don't have to share it."

"Yeah, Bren, I'd like that." Dallon tilted his head to stare at Brendon for a second, eyes soft and unreadable though Brendon knew that look. Dallon didn't know how to say it sometimes but Brendon knew. "Let's go, then." He added, and Brendon nodded, watching him grab the steering wheel.

He leaned his head against the window and watched Dallon pull out into the street. The thing was, he had spent years being afraid of everything. Falling in love was different: it was something that a lot of other people were scared of, he knew that, and once upon a time he had thought he would be too. But now it seemed impossible to be. There was nothing scary about this. Because he was ready for this. He felt prepared.

* * *

Dallon's hand slid up his side as their heads tilted in unison, adjusting to each other as they always did. He bumped his nose against Brendon's and Brendon tried not to ruin it with a smile, but he couldn't help it. He was happy.

All of a sudden Brendon's bedroom door opened without a knock and he jolted away on instinct to see his mother standing in the doorway. "Brendon, you know the rules, doors open if you're gonna do this." She scolded, gesturing between him and Dallon and not bothering to feel bad about embarrassing him.

"We were just gonna watch movies, mama." Brendon sat up slowly, and she raised an eyebrow at him. Brendon hated when she did that. It made him feel inferior, but he supposed that was why she did it. To let him know that she was the boss and that he was obligated to follow her rules.

"That's not what it looks like. I'll have the girls spy on you if you don't behave." She pointed at Dallon sternly. "You too, mister, be gentle with him."

"Mother." Brendon asserted.

"Don't worry, I intend to be,” Dallon assured her like he knew something Brendon didn't, and his mother was strict but she smiled at him when he placed a hand on Brendon's shoulder. She got along well with Dallon. He supposed that worked in his favor.

"Alright. Be good." She instructed, taking a step back toward the door. They nodded in unison, having no choice but to obey, and when she disappeared, she left the door open behind her.

Brendon threw his head back and sighed, but Dallon only smiled as he placed a hand on his side again. "I'm sorry. She's stupidly overprotective. I'm the baby."

"I get it. Hey." He pulled him back in to brush their lips together, disregarding the open door. He loved him. He loved him. The obstacles didn't really mean anything.

Noise came from the hallway, his father watching TV downstairs, his siblings talking on the phone and listening to music, but he paid no mind to the sounds of his house as it was always that lively. He just touched Dallon's face and smiled, pulling away finally because he knew what his mother was like. They had all the time in the world.

Brendon curled up at his side that night as they watched a movie on his laptop, barely paying attention as they were both lost in thought. "Hey, so." Dallon started, and Brendon peeked up at him, chewing on his thumb nail. "I wanted to thank you. For being understanding. Not everyone is."

"Yeah." Brendon reached out to close his laptop, leaving them in the dark. "I just want you to feel safe with me. I wanna be your safe space."

Dallon smiled softly at him, enamored at his acceptance. He meant what he said. Not many people understood. Not many people accepted what they couldn't know. "You are." He told him, and Brendon rested his head against his shoulder.

Brendon stared at the ceiling that night as they laid beside one another in the dark, so tired that he suddenly couldn't fall asleep. The dinosaur holding a cake was lost in the darkness but still Brendon watched him, trying to make sense of everything. What Dallon had told him. He tried racking his brain for any signs he hadn't seen before, confused as to why he hadn't realized, but then again he could be a little oblivious.

He thought he had Dallon figured out. All this time he thought he had him in a box, a good one, one he thought he got right. He guessed it wasn't that easy. Guessing everything about somebody and hoping to get it right. Maybe he didn’t know as much as he thought he did.

Maybe he didn’t know anything at all.

"Brendon, I have something to tell you." Dallon’s voice came softly and suddenly like he could read his mind: of course he could. They were kindred souls.

Brendon turned over to look at him in the dark, eyes big and illuminated by the full moon. "Mhm?" He hummed, feeling as though his voice was already asleep. It was late. He just had trouble falling asleep most nights.

"I'm still... sick." He admitted, and when Brendon didn't answer right away, added, "I told you that I was okay, but I'm not. I'm still depressed, and angry, sometimes, and there are still parts of me that I can't always control. I have a mental illness and that doesn't go away. The pills subside it, they offset my suicidal thoughts and everything like I told you, but they don't completely fix me. It would be a lie to say that it was a one time thing."

Brendon was quiet for a moment, watching Dallon breathe. It made sense, all of a sudden. Everything Dallon had said about knowing how he felt. His anxiety. "So you'd attempt suicide again?" Brendon's initial question came softly. It wasn’t malicious, mostly just curious, but sketched through worry. He didn't know what else to ask. There was a lot he wanted to know.

Dallon shrugged tiredly and shifted under the comforter, catching the look in Brendon's eye before he let his gaze shift upward, toward the strands of hair falling against his forehead instead. "I don't know. I don't think so, but it’s an impulse thing. It's part of it. I won’t know until I’m in that state of mind."

Brendon exhaled tremulously, his mind racing. "So, all the self-destructive stuff... cheating death and not caring about whether you lived or died, how you acted last month. How you isolated yourself and barely ate or slept. That..."

"Mhm." He reached out to slide a hand down Brendon's side. "That's part of it. The impulsivity."

"And that's what made you try to kill yourself?" He asked curiously, realizing then how many more questions he had.

“Yeah. I guess because I did so many dangerous things, I was expecting something bad to happen to me. And when it didn’t... I just got sick of being okay. I wasn’t okay mentally; it didn’t make sense for me to be okay physically."

"That's terrible," Brendon whispered, frowning to himself though Dallon couldn't see it. He couldn't imagine. "I hope I never feel like that. Like I'm sick of living. Like it's so bad that I wanna die."

"I hope you don't either," Dallon conceded, voice soft. "But it sneaks up on you. There's not always a reason. I mean, if you asked me if I would ever attempt suicide a month before my dad died, I would have said no. But it's not all black and white, Brendon. It took me a long time to realize that." He shifted again, and Brendon hung on to his words. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about this sooner. It's just... it's something I don't want to tell just anyone because it's kind of hard. I was gonna tell you after you came to see me at the cemetery but I was waiting to feel a little better, and then you were in a bad place and I didn't wanna mention it yet. It's just not something you spring on someone. Like, surprise, your boyfriend's a psychopath!"

Brendon frowned. Was that what he thought of himself? "You're not a psychopath. Don't say that. There's nothing wrong with having a personality disorder. Like I said, it's a part of you. And me knowing isn't gonna change anything."

"I know. But it's not that bad right now, I promise. Sometimes I just have bad days. I'm taking the antidepressants regularly, and those are supposed to help prevent the suicidal thoughts and kind of help with the mood swings and everything. They don't cure me though, Bren, it isn't curable. It's only treatable."

Brendon reached down to tangle their fingers together over the covers. "Dal, I know. I wasn't expecting you to all of a sudden be cured. You told me everything I need to know. I love you and I love your mind and every piece of you, so if you're sad or mad or anxious or want to hurt yourself, I can only hope that I can be your confidant."

"You are, Bren. And thank you. Not everyone understands."

"I'm not everyone," Brendon told him quietly.

"No, you're not." He let out a long breath, draining his anxiety, and Brendon understood. It was a lot. It was confusing. Learning things about each other even when it seemed impossible to tell. He figured that this was just another part of getting to know the boy he was falling in love with. "You're so much better."

* * *

Brendon laid awake once Dallon had drifted off to sleep, letting his mind wander as he watched the reflection of headlights flash on his ceiling. He thought back to the first day, the day they had begun talking, when they invited each other over and blushed at every word and fell for each other without letting each other know. When Brendon sat at Dallon's kitchen table and decided that every artist was sad, except Dallon would be different.

He was wrong about that, but then again he tended to be wrong about a lot of things.

He woke up with Dallon curled against his side, sleeping soundly though Brendon was difficult to sleep with. Dallon was still asleep and Brendon didn't want to bother him so he laid silently for a while, letting Dallon use him as a pillow.

It felt unreal. Dallon Weekes loving him back. It was something he used to dream about, back before it seemed possible to become a reality. Dallon Weekes in himself had been a dream. And now it felt like he had never truly lived a life where he didn't know him, because he knew deep down that Dallon was his soulmate. Something like that was life changing.

Dallon's eyes fluttered open against Brendon's arm and he smiled as his eyelashes brushed his skin, shifting only when Dallon moved away to give him space. "Hey. Sorry." He laughed, voice hoarse, as he yawned and laid back down beside him. "I sleep so well here. Have you been awake long?"

"No. Just a little while. Good morning." He turned onto his side and smiled at him softly, remembering the events of the night before. Telling him he loved him. Hearing it for the first time and realizing just how lucky he was. "You wanna stay for breakfast?"

"No, I'm volunteering today. I gotta get going." He yawned again, always a little too sleepy early in the mornings. "You wanna have dinner tonight?"

"Yeah. I'd love to." Brendon sat up as Dallon climbed out of bed, searching for his phone to check the time. It was early, Brendon knew, and Dallon sighed, seeing that he was late and had to go. He grabbed a sweatshirt from Brendon's ottoman and Brendon smiled softly as he watched him get ready half-heartedly because he didn't want to leave, always finding comfort in Brendon and his home. "You look good in my clothes."

"Thank you, baby." Dallon turned to smile at him as he pulled his jeans on from the day before. He always seemed shocked when Brendon complimented him. Like it was impossible for him to see himself in the way that anyone else saw him. "You don't mind me borrowing this?"

"No, go ahead." He shrugged, and Dallon leaned down to kiss him quickly, pocketing his phone and rushing because he'd slept in. "You want me to walk you down?"

"No, it's okay. You were restless last night. Get some rest. Text me when you feel like going out and where you wanna go, I'll pick you up." He pushed open Brendon's door with his foot, turning back to look at him. "Hey. I adore you, Urie. I'll see you tonight."

"Yeah, you will." Brendon smiled after him as he slipped out of the room, heading down the stairs.


	21. Chapter 20: Walking on the Moon

The last day of school approached quickly and by the last bell Brendon was itching to get out, having turned everything in and gotten back his final grades. For once he wasn't anxious, thinking about his senior year, the future, the fear of having too much time all summer to think. He was just happy, looking forward to all that time because he knew how he'd be spending it. He reached out to grab at Dallon's arm, and only smiled when he wrapped an arm around his waist.

He smiled across the table as Dallon and Ryan argued about cardigans, letting his mind wander because Dallon looked great in cardigans, anyway, and he didn't need to hear it. July was already a few days away. Soon it would be September again, and then his senior year, his last year of school before he chose a college and started the next chapter of his life. It had always been a cliché, but it was a cliché for a reason. College. He wasn't going to think about it.

He followed his friends to the park down the street, kicking a rock back and forth with them until it skidded into the street. And it dawned on him then that he wasn't the same person he was a few years ago, hiding in his room and scared of everything without reason. Avoiding the people that loved him because he didn't know how to talk to them. Now he was skipping, actually skipping, as passerbys watched judgmentally, though he couldn't find himself caring like he usually would.

He hopped up to sit atop a picnic table as Tyler challenged everyone to a race to the swings and a contest to see who could go highest. Dallon let him go, joining their friends as Brendon sat in the sidelines where he felt most in place. Watching from the outside. Not being in the center of everything, because sometimes he wanted a break.

He spent years putting things in boxes. Worrying over whether things made sense, second guessing each word he spoke because it might not be the right one. He never knew how to put himself in a box because he didn't ever think to. He organized things he didn't know. That was how he made sense of them. He didn't need to do that with himself, or at least he didn't think he did.

Junior year he wanted to go for what he wanted. Senior year he wanted to do the same, but with much more poise. No more awkward first kisses on bedroom floors. No more stumbling over his words. He wanted to be bold. He wanted to stop living his life on the sidelines. It was about time he put himself in the spotlight.

Dallon took a seat beside him on the table and Brendon turned to look at him, not having seen him coming. Dallon smiled fondly at him like he was in on the secret, though Brendon wasn't even really sure what the secret was.

"Hey, comrade." Dallon greeted, bumping his knee against Brendon's playfully. Brendon bumped him back, and then again he didn't need to know the secret. He and Dallon felt like a secret of their own, but not in the way they could be. Not hiding. Just secretive, because the best things were sometimes. "What's goin' on in the peanut gallery?"

Brendon only smiled before he shrugged and looked over at their friends, where Tyler was accusing Josh of cheating. "Just observing. Thinking about summer. How you're gonna be stuck spending every day with me because we have a lot of lost time to make up for. You know, the two years you neglected to tell me you liked me."

Dallon dipped his head to give him a look of mock-disbelief. "Oh, you mean the same two years that you also refused to admit that you liked me? Not just my fault, Brenny, it takes two to tango."

"Yeah, well, I don't know how to tango." Brendon reached out to take Dallon's hand and rested their hands together against the inside of his right thigh. "What about you? You get kicked out or somethin'?"

Dallon nodded. "Apparently I'm too tall and it gives me an advantage or something, I don't really know." He shrugged and nodded his chin upward, in the direction of the boys occupying the swing set. "Not too sure I wanna be in the line of fire, though."

Brendon let out a laugh and tilted his head to rest on Dallon's shoulder. "Yeah, Tyler's always been this competitive and pushy. I prefer to stay out of the way of it all too. He's the starring role, and I'm usually like, the supporting act. Not this summer, though."

"No?" Dallon asked softly, and Brendon looked up to meet his eyes. Intrigue, they read, maybe pride, like he knew something Brendon didn’t, though he always tended to.

He shook his head, feeling pretty persistent these days. This was his summer. He had a plan. “Nope. This summer is mine. A lot has changed this year. I wanna spend my time doing a little bit of remedying. And I’m gonna try to find my purpose. Who I am. I wanna find me."

"Hm." Dallon flexed his fingers in Brendon’s. "Sounds like a plan."

“Yep. And you’re a part of that plan.” He turned to look at him. “You’re not getting away from me this summer, baby. It’s just you and me.”

“I like the sound of that,” Dallon decided, a hint of a smile on his lips. “It’ll be nice. We’ll get to know each other. You can sleep over and we can go out and maybe do some other stuff we haven’t done, if you want to.” He suggested, and that was just what it was, suggestive, because he meant more by it. Brendon looked away, blushing, he always seemed so childish when anyone mentioned sex, and Dallon’s half smile turned into a full one of amusement when Brendon nodded.

“Yeah. Maybe. Yeah.” He stuttered, his confidence gone just like that. Dallon often did that to him. Those butterflies. The hearts on those things. “I can’t wait to get to know you.” He added to fill the silence that followed, but he meant it. It was something to look forward to. A summer to figure themselves out. To figure each other out.

“It’s gonna be a good summer,” Dallon promised like he knew, and then again he did. Brendon trusted him. They linked their pinkies together and Dallon kissed Brendon’s, making his heart swell all over again. Those butterflies. He still felt them every time.

* * *

For the first time in a long time everything seemed... calm. Like there was about to be a storm, but the air was sweet and so was the boy he was spending all his time with. He had a few days off from work so he spent time at Dallon’s, getting to know his family better since he had nothing but Dallon to focus on.

Brendon rested his head in Dallon’s lap as they watched some shitty reality TV show, the movie they were watching having ended but neither having the energy to find the remote. Dallon brushed fingers through his hair, going between braiding it and flattening it and playing with it like a child. “I’m gonna go home tonight,” Brendon said passively as they watched two women fight on the screen in front of them.

“Do you have to?” Dallon asked, half a whine but half a real question, as he untangled a braid he’d left in almost black locks of hair. “I’m just getting used to you being around.”

“I know, but I figure I should see my family before they forget I exist. Besides, I need to get some actual rest. Not the getting kicked by my boyfriend and half making out in the middle of the night when we can’t sleep kind of rest.”

Dallon clucked his tongue. “That’s better than actual rest.”

“I agree, but I still have to go home,” Brendon insisted, but tilted his chin up to kiss him for collateral. He enjoyed spending time with him, limbs tangled in a way that made them one. He just needed to sleep on his own bed for a night.

Brendon had been raised in a big family so he had gotten used to the noise. Things very rarely calmed down, with five kids and parents who ran a business. When he was younger he had always been the one who required the most attention, having had problems for years before he had developed a fear of everything. It was different now, he had gotten better, grown a lot as a person and began to sit on the sidelines as his siblings grew too, becoming adults with their own adult issues.

Brendon found out the day after Dallon had gone home that Kara was pregnant. It wasn't planned, she was only twenty-two, but would be twenty-three before the baby arrived. Revealing it happened in a few days, telling her siblings and eventually their parents. Brendon was worried about what they would think; they were religious people, but then again they had set aside their beliefs for their gay son. They were good people in that regard.

"Sex before marriage is a sin," Kara had said to him the night before she told them. "I mean, that's what we were taught."

“So is making out with guys, but that’s, like, my only pastime.” Brendon had returned, just trying to make her smile.

They never had a problem with him being gay. Thought it was a phase for a while, still mentioned his future wife in passing conversations about theoretical scenarios, still caught themselves saying things they shouldn’t. That was before he educated them. Swore he’d only ever been interested in guys and that that wasn’t going to change. But being gay was different. Having a child was a lifelong commitment.

"They're gonna be okay with it." Brendon had said after she told him, watching her wipe tears out of her eyes. "You're their favorite. They can't be mad at you."

She looked over at him, rolling her eyes. “I am not their favorite. You are.”

“No. They just baby me cause I’m scared of everything.” He had corrected, because he knew the score. “I’m probably more of a burden than anything.”

“No, you’re not. They’re so proud of you, Bren. They say that all the time. So am I. You’ve come a long way. You’ve done really well.” She argued, and it was just that. She said things like that that always made him realize how lucky he was to have her.

Her plan was to move out when the baby came in March. That was what Brendon was having trouble with the most. Realizing that there was going to be a time where they weren't living under the same roof, a bedroom away where he could go to her for every problem. She was his best friend. He didn't want her to leave.

Tears stained his cheeks as he stared up at the dinosaur holding a cake that night, trying to find some silver lining.

The next morning he got up and slipped out before he could see anyone. He had to get out of the house. He felt smothered sometimes, as he did when it was the summer and everyone was always around. Seven people in one hallway was suffocating sometimes.

He knocked on Dallon’s door after a nice woman in the lobby had let him in, recognizing him from the past few weeks. He heard the shuffling of sock-clad footsteps behind the door before a click of the lock and Dallon pulled open the door, a warm smile replacing his look of confusion.

“Hi, handsome. Come in. What are you doing here?” He held open the door for Brendon and guided him in, shutting it behind him as he headed to the living room.

“Things get intense at home sometimes. Needed to get away. Besides, it’s the fourth of July. Hi.” He pulled Dallon into a hug, sliding his hands up his back and inhaling to take in the smell of his shampoo, freshly showered and wearing loose clothes. “They say this is the gayest holiday. I thought we should spend it together.”

“I don’t actually see the logic behind that, but I like when you’re around so I don’t mind.” He pulled away and pressed a kiss to his forehead, leaving Brendon smiling. “We can watch the fireworks on the roof tonight, if you wanna sleep over.”

“Sure. I would like that.” He agreed, not yet mentioning the pressure of home. “I have a lot to tell you, anyway. You wanna feed me? I’m hungry. I’m craving Mexican.”

“Yeah. You wanna go out?” Brendon nodded, tugging gently at Dallon’s shirt. “Okay. My mom left me some money for food anyway, in case I didn’t wanna cook. Which I wasn’t planning on doing, so. Lead the way.” He gestured to the door and Brendon let him stop to put on his shoes before he followed him into the hallway, reaching out for his hand.

“Shut up, I’m paying. I’m the one with a job.” Brendon smiled at him over his shoulder and pulled him close to wrap an arm around him, inconspicuously slipping a hand into Dallon’s back pocket.

They sat across from each other and Brendon picked at the free chips while Dallon waited for him, always more keen on watching instead of participating. He took a sip of his Coke and Dallon raised an eyebrow, urging him to talk.

“So.” He swallowed what was in his mouth and Dallon played with the straw of his Dr. Pepper. “Kara is pregnant.”

“Oh, wow.” Dallon observed him for any sign of a joke but it wasn’t one. Brendon didn’t quite know how he felt about it himself. “That’s great. I think. Is it?” Brendon only shrugged: he wouldn’t be in such a position anytime soon. “She’s what, twenty-two? That’s young. Is she gonna keep the baby?”

“She’ll be twenty-three when the baby comes. But I agree. It’s pretty young. But she and her boyfriend have been together for a long time so they’re convinced they can do it. She wants a family. So yeah. I think she’s gonna keep it.” He took another sip of his drink as Dallon watched incredulously. “She seems to have her shit together. As much as someone her age can, I mean. This morning she was sorting out all their financial information. I’m a little worried but I think it’ll be okay. She’ll be as capable as anyone else.”

“I guess you’re right. Still. It’s a big responsibility.” He touched the condensation on his drink and wiped his hands off on the napkin beside him. “At least she knows what she wants. And is taking steps toward it. That’s pretty noble of her.”

“Yeah, no, it is. I just... I don’t know.” He broke one of the chips in half pensively, trying to figure out how he really felt about it. A baby. A person. His sister. It just didn’t make sense. “My parents are supportive. As long as she figures things out, and whatever. She’s smart. I think she will. But... it’s a baby. And I mean, for her age she’s pretty good at it already. She helped raise me. She was always really grown up. But this is different. It’s scary. I’m scared and it’s not even me.”

He raised an eyebrow curiously. “Why?”

“I don’t really know. I just feel like... like things were okay. Normal. And now this. And she was talking about moving, and I just— I’ve never been without her. She’s my best friend. I’m not ready for change.” He admitted, but it sounded so childish. Change. Of course it had to happen sometime.

"Sometimes change can be a good thing. I mean, look on the bright side. You're gonna be an uncle. Something like that can really change your life." He kicked at Brendon's foot under the table and Brendon tried to smile. It could be a good opportunity. He just wasn't sure about it, was all. "It's good that your parents are understanding. She has a support system. And her little brother is gonna be supportive too, yes?"

"Yes, Dallon, her little brother is going to be supportive." He kicked him back and rolled his eyes, all in good nature. "I'm just adverse to change. I guess it'll be fine. That's something for me to worry about later, anyway. Now try a chip, dude. They're good." He held one up to Dallon and he took it cooperatively, knowing that he was trying to change the subject. He didn't do well with talking about change, either. Dallon was getting to know that well enough.

He sat on Dallon's roof that night, watching explosions of color in the blackened sky as he rested his head against Dallon's shoulder, trying too hard not to think about it. Change. He didn't want to have to adjust. He just wanted things to stay the same forever.

He played with Dallon's hand absently, watching his face more than he watched the fireworks. He was more interesting, anyway. Electrifying pops of bright chemical stars left smoke in the air and flashes of color reflected in blue eyes, staring in wonder as if he'd never seen fireworks before. They sat with their backs against the wall and Brendon twisted the ring on and off Dallon's finger, finding himself irritable.

Dallon shifted and Brendon let him, shifting too only when Dallon leaned down to rest a hand on his shoulder. There was cheering at Veterans' Memorial Park where the festivities were being held, but Brendon preferred this side of the world, just he and Dallon and the way they felt safer alone up here.

Colored light bled down their features, blue and green and red and yellow, warm and somehow so complementary. Vegas was an iconic city to anybody who didn't live there. That was what everybody said. But to Brendon it was just home. Boulder City was just southeast of Vegas, a small city a few miles away from the gambling and the strip and the noise. But it wasn't devoid of color. There were neon signs and ornate buildings and despite the cracks in the pavement and the flaws you didn't have to squint to see, he loved his home. He didn't see the need for change.

"Wanna go inside?" Brendon asked in a whisper, suddenly overwhelmed.

"Sure." Dallon agreed, and Brendon was thankful that he didn't push as he got up, their fingers still intertwined, and led him back inside.

The sound of fireworks popping outside overpowered the air conditioner and Brendon curled up in Dallon's bed, tugging aimlessly at his tee shirt as they settled down against each other. They were silent for a while, Brendon's head against his chest, listening to him breathe.

"What's on your mind, Urie?" Dallon asked quietly, almost like he hadn't been given permission. Brendon looked up at him. He didn't know what was on his mind. Or there was too much on his mind, and he didn't know where to begin.

He shook his head, laying it back down against Dallon’s shoulder. There was a lot he didn't know how to say. A lot he was afraid to be judged for. "Everything is changing." He said after a minute, trying not to sound so childish though there wasn't really any other way to say it: it was childish no matter how he said it. Things changed. That was what everybody said. He just didn't see why.

"That's generally how the world works." Dallon figured, but the eyes Brendon gave him begged him not to make jokes. Dallon rubbed his arm and Brendon turned over onto his stomach, nuzzling his face in the crook of his neck. "What's wrong, babe?"

"I don't know." He admitted, and Dallon threaded his fingers through his hair. "I just— a couple of years ago I could barely talk to anybody. I wouldn't even talk to my family. I mean, even after I wasn't as scared, they were the only people I had a stable relationship with aside from Tyler. Now I'm realizing how complex things really are. I know I have to adjust to change but I don't know how to. And I know that sounds stupid but I don't know how else to put it. I just... I thought my family would be the one thing that I would always have."

"Is this about Kara moving out?" He asked after processing the words, trying not to sound patronizing or judgmental though Brendon wouldn't blame him if he did. He knew how it sounded. Childish. Pathetic. Brendon nodded, clearly hesitant, and Dallon sighed. "Bren. I understand where you're coming from. I of all people get that fear of change. But you know that babies are a lot of work, right? You don't wanna live with one. You don't wanna sleep in the same house as one. I used to babysit for my baby cousins and just spending the weekend with them was hell. Kara will be better off living with her boyfriend and getting used to being a parent without the thousand people in your house. And it's not like you're never gonna see her."

"I know, and I know it's for the best, but I'm gonna miss her. I don't want her to go." He realized he sounded petulant and Dallon bumped his nose against his forehead when Brendon looked up at him. "They left their babies alone with you for weekends at a time?"

Dallon half laughed, brushing a hand through the hair on the back of his head. "No. They live about an hour away so my dad would drive me up for the weekend and I'd stay with them when I was around fourteen. They paid me and my dad thought it would be good experience. If they had errands to run during the day on the weekends then I'd take care of their twins. So I know how to take care of babies. So if you ever need help babysitting..."

"I'm gonna take you up on that." He decided as Dallon poked at him playfully. "I know it's far away but I can't stop thinking about it, Dallon." He shook his head, clearly distressed. He didn't know what to do. How to process this. Everything was changing. He didn't know how to work with that. "I know I'm being dramatic. I'm just scared."

"It's okay," Dallon assured him. Being scared was okay. He really needed to hear that once in a while. "You know..." He curled up to bury his face in Brendon's hair. "I don't like change much either. When so much happens so soon you start to question why the world does to you what it does. And I guess that's good, it keeps you on your toes, reminds you that there's a lot you can't change. Teaches you how to realize when you're not in control. I think one of the hardest things is wanting to be in control and knowing you can't be."

"Exactly." Brendon was surprised to hear it. That someone got it. Everything he didn't know how to put into words.

Dallon's lips brushed his forehead transiently and Brendon wished he knew how to tell him he was helping. "I've gotten used to change. The idea that things aren't always gonna stay the same. So all I can say is that you're gonna adjust. It's not easy but something good always comes out of something, I like to think. This could be really good for you and your family. It might help you see the world in a new way."

Brendon looked up at him again, brown eyes big and watching shiny blue ones as colored light leaked in through his open window. This was a holiday about freedom. About independence. Brendon had always wondered what it would take to make him feel that sense of freedom he'd always longed for.

"Do you ever think about kids?" He asked instead, a thank you sounding too played out right now. In retrospect it seemed the wrong thing to ask, the wrong time, too, as they weren't necessarily in that place. Still. He wondered.

Dallon's mouth formed a straight line, seemingly pensive, as Brendon watched his face for an answer. "Well, in what regard?"

He shrugged lazily with one shoulder, not finding it in him to worry about his own forwardness. "Having them. Raising them."

He turned onto his side and Brendon shifted, slipping his hand in Dallon's when he held it out for him. Too soon, the words screamed in his head. Too soon. You sound idiotic. Hopeful. Hopeless. He knew how it sounded. He just wanted to believe for a second that things would end up okay for him.

"Yeah. I do." He answered only after a moment, and Brendon didn't mean to look so hopeful but he could tell by Dallon's reaction that he had. "I mean, I never thought much about it when I was younger. When I realized I was gay I thought that that was never in the cards for me. And then when I tried to kill myself, I wasn't really thinking about a future. Things were really convoluted for a long time and I didn't think that there would be anything for me. That nothing would make it... worth it. I don't think much like that now. I think that there are things that are worth it. Worth living for."

Brendon searched his eyes, that smile that wasn't a smile, and he didn't want to get his hopes up, knew that he could get this way, lost in fairytales in his own head and convincing himself that they'd come true. Fairytales were made up. Fairytales were a fantasy. Brendon was just too scared of the real world and daydreaming felt safer than solid ground and vivid reality.

"Like me?" He asked, his words in a lilt.

"Yeah." Dallon poked at his stomach, releasing butterflies with his touch. "I'd like to be a parent one day. I love kids. I love the idea of having a family. One I won't fuck up. One that's just my own. I mean, mine was taken away from me so young. I want to have something to really, really live for."

"I get that." He said softly, but couldn't help but smile warmly at the thought of it. "Do you think that could ever be me?"

Dallon fell silent and Brendon could have taken it back but he didn't. He only watched blue eyes flicker like they were seeing the rest of their life. A past Brendon hadn't been a part of and a future neither of them knew. It felt so childish to believe in such a love but he couldn't stop himself from hoping. It felt so nice to hope for something after all this time.

You live in a fairytale, Dallon wanted to say. Instead, he said, "I suppose it could be."

That seemed to satisfy Brendon because he beamed, inching closer under the covers. He used to hide. Now he was baring his soul. Laying it all out for Dallon to dissect like the heart of an animal in science class. He had so much hope. Dallon just sat there with a knife, scared of hitting an artery.

"Doesn't it scare you? The statistics?" Dallon asked after a moment, against his better judgment because when Brendon Urie was smiling, that was something he never wanted to kill. Brendon tilted his head, eyes innocent.

"No, I'm bad at math."

"I mean the high school relationship statistics." Dallon corrected, and Brendon's innocuous gaze turned to one of worry. "I mean, I really like you, Brendon. Being with you. It's just that... I don't know. High school relationships don't last. Almost never. And I wonder sometimes if this is gonna be temporary."

"It's only something to worry about if anything happens to make us worry about it." He figured, fumbling a bit with his words but getting his point across nonetheless.

"I don't know. I don't think anything specifically has to happen." He added hesitantly, and Brendon pulled away a bit, not quite understanding. "We've only been together a few months, you know? Which means there's a lot left to learn about each other. So I guess I just worry sometimes that you won't like me the more you get to know me."

"Well, that's a future me problem, isn't it?" He teased, and Dallon barely smiled. Brendon had been having anxiety about the whole thing lately, their mortality, or their immortality, whichever came first. He just didn't want to materialize it. Make it real. Things could last longer if he stayed in his fairytale. He shifted to hover over him, and Dallon's gaze followed, light in his irises and fear glazed in there somewhere, too. "Don't doubt us. Have hope in us. Have the hope that I have. This could be something really, really good, if we let it."

Slowly, Dallon reached up to loop his arms around Brendon's waist. His hands were solid against his sides and cold fingers pushed Brendon's shirt up, feeling warm flesh and realizing that he was right. He didn't want to doubt him. It was just that so many things in his life had pointed him to skepticism every time anything was good.

"I don't know how to tell if I'm in love with you," Dallon admitted after a moment, and Brendon brushed brown hair out of his eyes with his thumb, hiding his surprise. Or then again, maybe he wasn't very surprised. Dallon Weekes seemed like a boy who was too afraid to love. That wasn't as jarring as it should have been.

"Okay," Brendon whispered, swallowing his anxiety with the lump in his throat.

"But." He continued, seemingly nervous. "But I feel this... thing. This thing in my stomach when I'm around you. This feeling like I need to— to keep being around you. I don't know what that is. I just know that I get this stupid feeling in my body when I see you or think about you or hear you say my name. I don't know how to be in love because my parents were so in love and when my dad died, I was scared that if I fell in love with somebody then it would get taken away from me too. That's why I was so broken for so long. Trying to find it in the wrong places. Setting myself up for failure. I don't think that now. I think..." He swallowed, and Brendon's eyes remained trained on his. "I have real feelings for you, Brendon. I don't even really know how to put that into words. But I know that I want to keep getting to know you and I want you to get to know me. That means something to me.”

“That means something to me too, Dal, you have no idea.” He touched his face all over and wondered how he was even real. Dallon. His Dallon. He didn’t know how this was all his. “God, I’ve liked you for so long. Before I even knew you. You’ve just so exceeded my expectations.”

“You exceeded my expectations too. I don’t even really know what my expectations were. I’ve been watching you like an exhibition for years because I was too scared that you weren’t who I had prayed you were but I just... I don’t think I could have ever made up anybody like you.” He stared up at Brendon and they were both silent for a moment, taking each other in. Realizing that maybe this was the freedom they had been looking for for so long. “You’re unreal. Everybody seems so fake but you’re not. You’re your own person. That’s amazing.”

He was enamored, it seemed, as he brushed Brendon’s cheek with his palm, holding his face lovingly and looking at him all over. Brendon tilted his head against Dallon’s hand, let him cradle his face. Let himself fall for those eyes as they watched him like a masterpiece.

“I’m gonna fall so in love with you, Brendon Urie,” Dallon admitted in a sigh, like it was coming from the pit of his stomach. Deep down where Brendon knew things were hiding. His eyes softened and Dallon’s hands held him, one on his face and the other in his hip. Steadying him. Promising him.

“I’m gonna fall so in love with you too.” He whispered, and the words felt like destiny.

* * *

Brendon stared from his chair as Dallon bit his lip aimlessly, focused on his summer reading book as he liked to get work done early. He watched the way he flipped the page, the movement of his fingers, the way his tongue darted out to lick at his bottom lip. Brendon liked to watch him. The dips in his skin and curved lips and long eyelashes. He was beautiful. Brendon couldn’t really help it.

He couldn’t seem to focus on his own book. He set it down in his lap but Dallon didn’t realize, his eyes following the lines like it were more interesting than it was. He drew color from his lips as he bit at them, and Brendon watched as pink turned redder, getting lost in him like he found himself doing so often.

“Oh, fuck me.” He said under his breath, overwhelmed, and didn’t realize he’d said it out loud until Dallon looked up at him in shock. Brendon’s face ignited red and he looked mortified when Dallon stared at him. “Fuck. Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I was talking to myself. I was saying fuck me in a general sense. Not to you. I do not want you to fuck me.” He winced at his own words and Dallon raised an eyebrow in amusement. “I mean, okay. I want you to fuck me eventually. Just not like that. Just nicer.” Dallon smiled Brendon added, “I mean— no. Nevermind. I don’t want you to fuck me. Forget I even said that.” He covered his face with his hands. “Shit. I’m sorry. Are you sure you wanna be with me? This is your out. You can change your name and move to Mexico. I wouldn’t hold it against you."

Dallon laughed and put his book down on the coffee table. “Calm down, Bren, I know what you meant. You didn't need to give me that..." He gestured with his hands awkwardly, "mess."

He groaned. “I’m sorry. I never said any of that.”

Dallon let out a quiet, unwavering laugh and reached out for him. “Come here.” He pat the seat next to him and Brendon shifted to sit beside him, abandoning his book on the chair. “Can we talk about something for a second?”

“Is it about what you’re gonna change your name to? Cause I kind of like Ricardo.”

“Brendon, stop, I'm not changing my name." He interrupted with a hint of a laugh. Brendon looked up at him worriedly, fearing that he’d made a mistake. “Ricardo?” He asked as a second thought, seemingly amused.

“Yeah, why not?”

He thought for a fleeting moment and then tsked, shoving Brendon’s knee. Brendon really got to him sometimes. “No, I’m not changing my name. And I’m not breaking up with you. Listen.” He turned toward him pensively, but didn’t seem to feel Brendon’s anxiety as he played with the words in his head. “I... I wanna have sex with you.”

Brendon looked at him incredulously but Dallon’s face had solidified, baring holes into Brendon’s as if trying to read his mind. That wasn’t what he had been expecting. Not after that.

Shit. Fuck.

“Seriously?” He asked in disbelief, and Dallon looked somewhat worried. “After all of that—“ He gestured fervently with his hands. “—You want to sleep with me? That turned you on?”

“Brendon.” Dallon laughed, and Brendon smiled at him, confused but enamored. Sex. He had been trying not to think too hard about it. “I’m serious, babe. I mean, when you’re ready, I think we should... y’know. I think we should do it. If it’s okay with you, of course. I just— I told you that I would let you know when I’m ready and I think I’m ready now. I’ve been thinking about it. A lot, actually.”

“Oh,” Brendon said dumbly, any other word in his vocabulary fizzling out when he tried to say them. He didn’t quite know what to say. He felt ill-prepared for this conversation. Like his own embarrassment and childishness had kept him from thinking about it.

Just a few months ago Dallon had told him he wanted to wait. That was before they had gotten to know each other’s mouths and now it all felt like a different world. A different Dallon. Taking it slow in the world they lived in seemed so futile but it was them. They were different, too.

“Bren,” Dallon said after a moment, and only then did Brendon realize he had been sitting there in silence. “Not to be, like, pushy, but can you say something? Cause I’m kind of nervous, here.”

“Oh. Yeah, no, sorry. I’m just. Y’know. Thinking.” He pointed to his head as if Dallon didn’t know what thinking meant. “I... yeah. I think that...” He swallowed, the words caught. “I think I’m ready too. I just.” He looked down, and feeling bold, he took Dallon’s hand in his own. Watched their fingers twist together and wondered if it was meant to be. He was crazy about Dallon. He knew that. It was just that it was his body. His vulnerability. “Um. Not right now, right?”

He shook his head quickly, afraid he’d given him the wrong impression. “Oh, no. Of course not. It doesn’t even have to be soon. Or like, ever, if you don’t want.”

"Oh. Yeah. Okay. Um. I mean, I wanna. Like, soon. Um. I just... I don't know. Soon.” He sputtered, overly nervous and with reason. He’d been too scared to think about it. Sex. What a scary, scary thing.

He’d never pictured himself talking about it. He’d never pictured himself doing it. For a long time he never thought he’d have the chance. He didn’t ever really mind that, either. It didn’t seem like falling in love was in the cards for him. But then there was Dallon, this perfect boy. The one who would change everything.

This was a big deal, wasn’t it?

Dreams and reality were two different things. Of course he’d wondered if it would happen. How it would happen. If there would be something to worry about or if he and Dallon would just magically fit. They seemed so good at that. Like puzzle pieces.

“Can I think about it some more?” He asked, but already knew the answer.

Dallon nodded calmly despite the flush of his cheeks and Brendon smiled Appreciated that he cared about him. Considered him. “Yeah. I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything."

"No, I’m not feeling pressured. I promise.” He leaned his head against his shoulder and held his hand tight. “I’m glad we’re talking about this.”

“Me too.” Dallon agreed, hanging an arm over his shoulder and leaning his head against Brendon’s, as they tended to lean on each other. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, you know.” He added after a minute, and at that Brendon hummed. “I didn’t just say it because of everything you said.”

Brendon laughed, embarrassed, and tugged playfully on his arm. “Shut up.” He groaned. “Let’s pretend that never happened.”

“No way.” He played with Brendon’s fingers like they were something interesting, and Brendon admired the way they fit so well together. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“Maybe I should break up with you and change my name,” Brendon pondered, and Dallon tsked at him, bumping his socked foot against Brendon’s bare one.

“Whatever, Ricardo. You’d miss me too much.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He sighed, but only kept a straight face for a second before he tilted his chin up to look at him. Admired that look in his eye, promised himself that he’d have a good summer. Discover himself. Discover Dallon, while he was at it.

Change. He didn’t know what to do with it.

* * *

Brendon was unreasonably nervous when he reached out to press the little black button, rocking back and forth on his heels. He hadn’t told Tyler he was coming, but he used to drop in whenever he wanted to. He figured it’d be okay, but still he couldn’t shake the anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He knew what he was here for.

Tyler’s oldest brother opened the door and let Brendon in without asking why he was there, having become accustomed to seeing him show up unannounced. Brendon forced a smile at him, suppressing the feeling of consternation in his bones, and they exchanged hellos as Brendon slipped by to climb the staircase.

He let himself into Tyler’s room without knocking, he never really did when he was in a rush, and Tyler looked up from his laptop when Brendon entered. “Hi, hoe. What are you doing here?”

“Hey. I need advice. It’s kinda something I had to ask in person.” He made sure to close the door and sat down on the edge of his bed, playing with his hands. “Is now a good time?”

“Sure, tiny.” Tyler sat up, pushing his laptop shut. “What’s going on? Everything’s okay, right?”

Brendon nodded, but shifted his weight uncomfortably because he had no idea how to ask. He didn’t even really know how to talk about this. He always avoided talking about this with his parents and he pretended he couldn’t hear them whenever his siblings tried to give unsolicited advice.

It had been three days since their conversation. Three days, and it was all that Brendon could think about. Sex, sleeping together, making love, fucking, whatever he wanted to label it. It was all he could think about. He didn’t know what to do about that.

He trusted Dallon. He loved Dallon. He had become so vital in such a short span of time, so imperative, that now he was a part of Brendon. A fragment of who he had become. Who he was becoming.

He wanted to open up to him. He just didn’t want to be so scared to do it.

“I think I wanna have sex with Dallon.”

Tyler looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “Okay?”

“I haven’t had sex with him, Ty, and I want to.” He emphasized, realizing they hadn’t talked about this in a while. Tyler sat up, eyes wide, and Brendon got up to pace like he did when he needed to get something off his chest. “Like. I know I haven’t been dating him long, but I love him, you know? I love him so much. I mean, I— I can’t see myself without him. That has to count for something. Matt said that you know you're in love when you look at them and realize that you can't live without them. That's how I feel about Dallon. And over the past few weeks we've gotten really close— like, we've been close for a while, but this summer, I mean, we got really close. And I've already opened myself up to him emotionally, and I wanna— I think I'm ready. To open myself up physically."

“So, you still haven’t done it?”

Brendon shook his head, lost in thought. “No. I would have told you if I did.”

“I mean— not even hand stuff? Or mouth stuff?” He asked, disbelieving, and Brendon crossed his arms, going to sit again. This was a stupid idea. He didn’t need to talk about it. He could talk to Dallon. Tell him his fears. He just kept second guessing himself. “Wow. Brendon, wow.”

“Is it really that surprising? You know me.”

“Yeah, no, I know you. But, like. I thought you would have done it by now. You’re so close. It just seems like...” He paused, not really knowing what to say. Brendon had always been so carefully narrow in the way he shared his emotions. He wasn’t expecting Dallon to get under his skin so quickly. “So. You’re scared?”

Brendon looked away and nodded; it wasn’t like he was embarrassed to admit it, it was just that he felt stupid for having to come talk about it. “I mean, yeah. Is that naive? Do I sound pathetic?”

“No, I don’t think so. You sound like a normal person. I mean, you’re a scared person, you always have been, so I guess it’s valid. Feeling scared about something like this. I mean, sleeping with your boyfriend shouldn’t be scary, but you have a lot riding on it. You've always had a lot of expectations. But it's okay to be afraid. A lot of people are."

“Were you?" Brendon asked quietly, almost scared to ask. Like it was crossing a line. He wasn’t sure what was and what wasn’t.

“I mean, a little bit. Mostly I was just excited. But you and I are different. I’m not-“

“Terrified of everything. Yeah.” He looked away, folding his arms.

Tyler tsked. “Look, Bren. You don’t have to do it if you’re scared. But for what it’s worth, I think you and Dallon are gonna last. I guess you just... make sure he wants to do it, and if you both do, then you know.”

“We talked about it the other day. He says he’s ready. And I think I am too. I mean, I’ve been thinking a lot about it.” He shifted uncomfortably, wondering why he even decided to have this conversation. He didn’t like talking things out. He liked keeping everything to himself and hiding from his own feelings until they went away. “I know that I wanna be with Dallon. I want my first time to be with him. But what if I start to do it with him, and then I get scared and wanna stop? Or what if it happens, and then he doesn't think it's good, and he breaks up with me? What if I get hurt?"

Tyler frowned calculatedly, placing a hand gently on his thigh like a warning. “Do you trust him?” He asked, though he knew the answer. Brendon nodded insistently, not hesitating even for a second; of course he trusted him. He wouldn’t be considering this at all if he didn’t. “Then what the hell are you so damn worried about?” He shook his arms like he was crazy and Brendon laughed despite himself. “Follow your heart, little Urie. If you wanna have sex with him then you should. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. Just don’t think about it so much.”

“I know, I just— I overthink. I need to overthink.” He insisted, but it was in vain because he knew Tyler wouldn’t understand regardless. “He told me when we started dating that he wanted to take it slow."

"You've been taking it slow. I think it’s time, Brenny bear. Fuck the shit outta him.” He took Brendon’s hands and danced with them playfully, trying to get a smile out of him.

“What if it’s too soon to fuck the shit outta him?” Brendon asked with half a laugh, regretting it as soon as he said it but just making himself laugh more.

“Then that’s up to you, Brenner. But you love him. He loves you. It’s simple as that.” He poked Brendon’s chest as if to remind his own heart it was in there. “Besides. Sex is sex. It’s fun and makes you feel good. And Dallon isn’t shallow. I think that no matter how you are, he’s gonna love it cause it’ll be with you.”

“You think?”

“Brendon. Listen to me.” He held his biceps steady and looked him in the eye, making sure to accentuate his words. “He’s a teenage boy. He wants to put his dick in something. That’s what most teenage boys want. He’s not gonna hate it or break up with you for being bad at it or whatever you’re scared of. He loves you and respects you and you want to sleep with each other. That’s a perfect equation.” Brendon laughed again, realizing just then how ridiculous this all was. “Brendon. Dallon is gorgeous and smart and talented and tall. Look at his face. You are so lucky.”

“I know that. And I’m so thankful that I’m even in a place where I feel like I can trust him enough to have sex. But, like. I’ve never— I'm not gonna know what to do."

“He won’t either, you know.” He reminded him, though Brendon wasn’t sure how true that was. Dallon has some sort of experience. Experience he hadn’t talked about or specified, but experience nonetheless.

“He knows more than I do. And it’s intimidating. I mean, I’m self-conscious. You know me. And I’m scared it’s not gonna turn out the way I want it to. What if, like, I'm not good? What if he doesn't like my body?" He placed a hand on his chest, over his heart, as if to protect it. As if it were that easy and everything was external.

“I think he'll just be happy to have you there," Tyler admitted, teasing him with a smile. “Most guys don’t care about that stuff, as long as they can get off.” He shoved his knee when Brendon tried to smile. “Seriously, Brendon, Dallon is in love with you. It’s you. It’s him. You’ll probably have a good time no matter what happens. I don’t think anyone’s first time is picture perfect like in the movies. Mine wasn’t. But everyone is different. You guys will be different.”

Brendon looked up at him, eyes soft, as he tried to take that to heart. His first time. He had been somehow both dreading it and looking forward to it for a long, long time. “Thank you.” He said softly, and he meant it.

“Yeah.” Tyler pat his thigh supportively. "You've got this, Urie. Don't overthink it."

Brendon nodded, and knew he was good at overthinking but he wanted to let this happen. He and Dallon. Besides, he already knew that it was meant to be.

* * *

“Brendon. Stick around, would ya?” His father called as Brendon put away the rag after wiping down the counters, the open sign turned to closed and the evening light leaking in through the windows. It wasn’t dark yet, it didn’t get dark until late on summer evenings, but the lights of the diner were off and Brendon was about to leave for the night.

He turned to look at his father and balled up his apron as he cooperated, watching silently and with patience as his father poured them both hot chocolate. It was too hot for it, the middle of July, but Brendon thanked him nonetheless and blew on it aimlessly as he waited for the lecture. He never kept him around late unless he wanted to have a conversation they couldn’t have upstairs, where everybody eavesdropped and put in their two cents.

“What’s up?” Brendon asked, attempting to take a sip of the cocoa before he gave up because it was just too hot.

“I just wanted to ask how you are. I’ve barely seen you this summer.” He started, and Brendon shrugged one shoulder, giving him a look of disbelief.

“I’m fine, daddy, but you don’t make me sit down and talk to you if there isn’t a reason for it. What’s the reason?”

His father sighed and Brendon knew he knew him better than that. “Honestly, your mother is wondering if you’re having sex and she wanted me to investigate.” He admitted; Brendon was taken aback, surprised that he’d admit it.

“I’m not having sex; I’m talking to you.” He said in lieu of a real response.

“Brendon.” He lamented and Brendon smiled, proud of his joke and the temporary diversion. “Listen. Personally, I don’t mind if you are. And I don’t think your mother does either. But she’s right: we need to check in. I won’t tell her if you are. But I just want to say that if you are having sex, then-“

“I’m not having sex.” He interrupted, and his father’s face relaxed, contrary to what he’d said. “But... I am thinking about it.” He added as a second thought, figuring he might as well say it so he didn’t seem like he was lying. It was true. He was thinking about it. He was thinking about it constantly, actually. He was comfortable with Dallon, knew he wanted it to be with him, but Brendon held his heart close. He didn't know how not to.

His dad leaned against the counter for a moment, pensive, as Brendon looked away and at his mug so he didn’t have to make eye contact. “Okay. Well, I’ve been trying to put off this conversation for a while. You’re my youngest. I still think you’re a kid sometimes. Doesn’t feel real that you’re practically an adult.”

“Yeah, it’s hard for me to believe, too.” Brendon agreed, half smiling at the prospect. Being an adult. He was never one of those kids that wanted to grow up fast, but this was different. This was a reason to want to.

“So, I assume you know everything already, then. You’re smart. Being safe, using protection, talking first. You need to make sure that it’s what you both want. Because you can’t take it back.”

“I know,” Brendon promised; his family really underestimated how much he ruminated on things before he did them. “We talked about it. He told me he’s ready and I think that I am too. I’ve been thinking about it constantly. Like, it’s all I can think about.” He took a sip of cocoa as his father watched him fondly, proud, maybe, if Brendon felt like deciphering it. “I love him. And I know what I want. I wanna go after it.”

“That’s good, Brens. It’s good to go after what you want.” He commended. “As long as you’re both consenting and mentally and physically prepared then I don’t see why you shouldn’t make that decision together. Which leads me to my next point. You need to be prepared. I know it’s less serious for you to use condoms, I know you can’t get pregnant, but-“

“I can get STDs, I know.” He interrupted: he’d heard it all before.

“There are condoms in the drawer underneath the sink if you need them. Your mother and I leave them in there for you and your siblings so that if you’re in a pinch, they’re there. There’s no excuse. And considering your boyfriend is an adult, I assume he can put in the effort to buy protection.” Brendon nodded wordlessly, looking down and into his mug as he blushed. “Just make smart decisions, buddy. With your body and your heart. And if you need to talk to anybody, then I’m here for you. If you need advice or questions answered or if you’re having an issue.”

“Okay. I will.” He promised.

“And make sure he respects you, Brendon. Listens to what you want and makes sure that everything is good for you too. I want you to be happy if you’re going to be making decisions like this for yourself. You’re the only person who knows what’s best for you, after all.” He bumped his hand against Brendon’s with a smile, hoping he would take it to heart. He would. Brendon could be a sponge with advice sometimes. “Get to bed, kiddo. It’s getting late. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Brendon got up, and he meant to thank him, but he wasn’t quite sure how to. He felt comfortable, though, or more comfortable than he had, anyway, talking about sex. He figured that now was as good a time as any to get as much advice as he could, because sometimes people could have some helpful things to say.

His father ruffled his hair like he was still a kid, though that life was so far away. He still felt young sometimes. Like the youngest possible version of himself. And then there was this version, the version that couldn’t stop thinking about sex, and that left him plagued by the thought of his own dichotomy.

Skin, hot and flushed and red, pale flesh previously unexposed. Fingers leaving white dots of pressure on hips, sides, shoulders, bodies colliding, kisses down his neck and across his throat. Hands, lips, perfect lips, the way they curved so intricately at the top. He was scared, but not scared enough not to do it.

He ran his hand down his face in exhaustion, finding it hard to fall asleep when his mind was racing. He reached out to find his phone on his side table, checking the time to see it half past midnight. He wasn’t surprised; he often let his thoughts keep him up. So much for going to bed early.

He climbed out of bed frustratedly, wrestling with his duvet, and adjusted his boxers and the tee shirt he’d stolen from Dallon’s drawer before he headed down to the kitchen. Everyone was asleep, the doors closed and the lights off.

The floor creaked underneath him and he tiptoed into the kitchen, where a single overhead light dimmed the room and Matt looked up from the table. “Hey.” He greeted; Brendon only nodded in a hello, his voice didn’t feel ready to speak, and went to open the fridge to see what he could find. “What are you doing up?”

“Looking for food.” He gestured to the fridge as if it were obvious, though Matt knew him better. He looked at him with obvious skepticism. “I couldn’t fall asleep.” He admitted after a minute, giving up trying to be aloof. “Been thinking too much.”

“Anything I can help you with?” He sat up in his seat and watched Brendon reach in to grab a bottle of soda, going through the motions of finding a cup and pouring it in, watching it fizzle at the top and die down.

“I don’t know,” Brendon sighed defeatedly. He was letting his mind get the better of him again. Sex was sex. That was all. He didn’t know why he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Why it was the only thing he had really been thinking about, actually. Matt watched Brendon find a bag of chips in the cupboard, not bothering with a bowl. “Try me.” He offered, and Brendon slipped into the chair across from him.

“Hm.” He pulled a knee to his chest, swirling the liquid around in the cup. “I’m thinking about maybe sleeping with Dallon.”

Brendon looked up from his drink to see his brother staring at him pensively. Brendon understood— he never showed any interest in it. For years he had been too scared. But things were different now. Things had changed.

Matt closed his laptop. “So you haven’t yet?” He asked. Brendon shook his head, not having expected that response. “Oh. Hm. So why did this suddenly just come up?”

“I don’t know,” Brendon admitted. He had been wracking his brain for a while now too, realizing that there wasn’t really a reason. He was just ready. “I just— we were waiting. Until we were in love with each other. And now I know that I am, and he told me that he’s ready, and I think hearing him say it reminded me that it’s gonna be, like, a real thing. An actual thing that happens. But I don’t know. Like. I’ve always been scared of it, but now I’m like— what if it’s not what I expect? What if we built up all that anticipation and waited for the time to be right and now we think the time is right but it actually isn’t?”

“I think you might be looking too far into it. I know that’s what you do, though.” He observed thoughtfully.

“Yeah,” Brendon agreed, defeated. “I just. I know it’s stupid. Like, I know. But I always had this picture of a fairytale and, like. Sex was never in any of the fairytales. I don’t know how to incorporate that.”

“Use your imagination,” Matt suggested; he wasn’t often very much help at these things. “And they probably just censored it to protect the minds of the innocent. Like you.” Brendon pouted, and his brother smiled. “Not everything is magic, B. You learn that once you’ve been in a few relationships.”

“I guess.” He slumped over with his cheek in his hand. He didn’t want to be in a few relationships. He wanted Dallon to be it. “I’m worried it’s not gonna be good and it’ll ruin what we have.”

“Bren, let me tell you something: your first time won’t be the best time.” Brendon sat up, interested in what he had to say. “I mean, it probably won’t even be good. It’s awkward because you don’t know what to do, it’ll probably be more awkward because he’s never done anything either, and the whole time that’s gonna be obvious. You’re gonna be worried that you’re doing the wrong thing, and that he’s gonna be thinking that you’re doing the wrong thing. It’s gonna feel weird and you’re not gonna be used to it and you’re probably not gonna get used to it anytime soon. But it gets better. And you and Dallon are good together so I think it should be time. But I don’t think it’ll ruin you guys. I think it’ll be good for you.”

“That’s not all that reassuring, you know.” He said, but he half smiled nonetheless. Matt didn’t do reassuring. He just told him like it was and hoped it got through to him. “But thank you. That significantly lowered my standards.” Matt laughed and pulled his laptop open again. “I don’t know. I just wanna be sure.”

“Yeah, I get it. And a lot of people are nervous about their first time. I mean, you literally just went through puberty, so-“

“Stop!” Brendon whipped a chip at him defensively and he covered his face with a laugh. “Stop. Mama and daddy said you’re not allowed to tease me about that. Don’t be mean to me, I’m confiding in you, asshole.”

“I’m kidding, B, relax! Calm down.” He waved a hand at him but Brendon hugged himself, overprotective. He wanted his brothers to see him on the same level as them. “Really, I don’t think there’s any harm in trying. If you wanna do it then do it. It’s your business. Just, y’know. Do what you’re supposed to do. Condoms and whatever. I know you can't get pregnant or anything, God knows we have enough of that around here." Brendon snorted in an ain't that the truth kind of way. "But use 'em anyway. You know, gay guys are at higher risk for HIV, for some reason.”

Brendon smiled softly and looked at his brother over his knee as he looked away, back down at his laptop. “Did you look that up because of me?” He asked, teasing in his tone.

“No,” Matt answered quickly, and Brendon’s eyebrows climbed his face in amusement; he knew he cared, but he didn’t think he cared that much. “I didn’t, I swear. We talked about it in health class and I just happened to remember. I have to be of some use while you’re asking me for my expert advice.”

“Okay, okay.” He put his hands up in surrender, but he knew he was lying. “By the way, me going through puberty late just means I’m newer. Therefore I work better, therefore I’ll probably be better in bed than you, so ha.”

Matt rolled his eyes, and Brendon felt himself smiling. “Right. Whatever.”

“Whatever. I’ll send you a postcard from sex-having city.”

“Please, I’m the mayor.” Matt retorted and Brendon laughed with him, letting it linger for a moment before it faded back into silence in the dark. He liked talking to him when no one else was up. It felt like the only time they really got each other.

“So, what are you doing?” Brendon asked after a moment, gesturing half-heartedly to his laptop.

“Uh, do you remember book buddies?” He asked. Brendon nodded, remembering fondly the system in elementary school where second graders shadowed eighth graders. “I have my book buddy on Facebook and she actually had a kid a few years ago, so I’m talking to her about what it was like. Just trying to see what it’s gonna be like for Kar, y’know?”

“Yeah. That’s really cool of you.” He admired, realizing then that maybe they all weren’t so far away. He always thought they were all too different, in different worlds, but they were family. They were connected. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

“She’s my big sister. Of course I care. Besides, this is my niece or nephew. I gotta take care of ‘em. Kara too.” He gestured to the screen. “This is how I’m doing it.”

“Yeah.” Brendon got up to sit beside him. He wanted to be there for her too. He wanted to be there for the people who were there for him. “Here. Lemme see what she said.”

* * *

Brendon trudged into the kitchen with sleep still in his eyes, yawning silently as his mother's words reached his ears. When she turned toward the doorway at the sound of his footsteps he nodded his head in a hello, keeping silent as he realized she was on the phone.

“Sounds good. Okay." She placed a hand on the top of Brendon’s head as he slid into a seat at the table. "I'll let everyone know, then. I'll see you tonight... yeah, I'm looking forward to it too! Bye.”

"Who are we seeing tonight?" Brendon watched her hang up the phone, clearly skeptical. He didn’t like having guests. It made him antsy and anxious and he always ended up locking himself in his room.

She smiled at him, ruffling his hair like he was a child. She liked to treat him like he was, sometimes. “Leann and Dallon are coming over for dinner tonight." She told him like it was nothing. Like she didn’t just invite his boyfriend’s family over for what he assumed to be an interrogation.

He must had frozen up, because her eyebrow went up in an arch like she was wondering if he knew anything she didn't. Of course he did. And knowing so much scared him. "Um, why?"

“Well, I thought it would be nice to have them over, since you and Dallon are pretty serious now. He's been in our lives for a while and I assume that he'll be in our lives for much longer, so he and his mother are coming over for dinner so we can get to know them as a family." She crossed her arms, challenging him without words. They both knew how that was. She always knew more than she was saying. Brendon was always too scared to ask. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Um, yes? You're totally cornering me, mama! My relationship with Dallon is like, on a total different plane than this. There are two different spheres: my love life and my family life. Now, I don't want these spheres to overlap because if they do, things will be messy. I like to keep my relationship separate from my family. You guys are embarrassing."

She rolled her eyes. "Brendon, Dallon has been here a million times. He spent Christmas with us. You can't hide him anymore."

Brendon slumped over in his seat with his cheek in his hand, pouting. "Right. I forgot about that.” He lamented, and she gave him a look. “But that was before we were dating. Don’t you think that's kind of out of line? Randomly inviting my boyfriend and his mom over without consulting me first?"

“No, I think it's polite, seeing as you've failed to do so." She smiled again him and he knew she meant no harm, but it was condescending. She could be sometimes. “Now, you might want to get ready. They’ll be here in a few hours. You really need to stop going to bed so late. Get your sleep schedule back on track. Just because it’s summer doesn’t mean you should be up all hours of the night.”

“Don’t harass the kid.” Brendon’s father intervened as he joined them in the kitchen, though unaware of what they were discussing.

She sighed; he always defended Brendon. It was just what he did. “Take a shower, keiki. We’re having guests over.” She told him nonetheless, and her husband pat her shoulder as she left the room.

Brendon looked up at his dad and rolled his eyes dramatically. “She is so annoying!” He whispered, but his dad just laughed, not agreeing or disagreeing. He didn’t often like to her in the middle of things. “So, uh. You didn’t tell mama, did you? About me thinking about...” He trailed off, lowering his voice.

“Of course not. You told me that in confidence.” Brendon relaxed a little despite his anxiety, brushing a hand through his bedhead. He didn’t know why she did the things that she did. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “She randomly called Dallon’s mom to invite her and Dallon over which is weird because she’s never done that, and he’s literally here all the time, so I don’t know why she wants his mom here. It’s not like they have to meet or anything. I feel like she has an ulterior motive. She’s got she’s everywhere, daddy. She’s onto me.”

He rolled his eyes with a laugh as he turned the coffee maker on, leaving Brendon to stare expectantly at his back. “I don’t think it’s that big a deal.” He reasoned; Brendon didn’t agree. There was a reason for everything. “Relax. She doesn’t know anything. She won’t know anything until you talk to her about it. She just wants to get to know Dallon’s mom. Be friends with her.”

“Okay.” He gave up, but his father turned to look at him at the suspicion in his voice. He didn’t like this. Mixing his two lives. Getting other people involved.

Bumblebee: so I don't know if your mom told u but my mom is making u guys come over for dinner and I just found out and I'm sorry I really had nothing to do with it but she's insisting since we're serious and she wants to be friends with your mom and I know it's probably gonna be weird

Dally: do you not want me to come over...? because I can tell my mom no

Bumblebee: no it's not that of course I do

Bumblebee: but my family is overwhelming and I don’t wanna scare u off

Bumblebee: if u don’t wanna come then u don’t have to

Bumblebee: they’re gonna ask a lot of questions probably a lot of personal ones and I don’t want u to be uncomfortable

Dally: you’re not gonna scare me off don’t worry

Dally: it’s not like I haven’t had dinner there before so what’s changed?

Us, Brendon wanted to say. Us talking about sex and keeping it a secret and being together and getting close.

Bumblebee: everything

Dally: you take things too seriously everything will be fine. I’ll see you in a few hours

Bumblebee: okay but u have been warned

He dropped his phone on the mattress beside him, and something made him feel sick. Like he was being observed. Studied. He hated when he felt that way.

* * *

“They’re here!” Brendon’s mother called up the stairs, and Brendon’s heart pounded as he headed down the hallway.

It was just sex. It was just he and Dallon. It was just a commitment and vulnerability and he didn’t know why he was so scared that everyone was going to know.

He told too many people. He knew he told too many people. He didn’t want anybody to know in the first place so why did he have to say it?

“Hey.” Brendon reached the bottom of the stairs as Dallon and his mom walked in. He gave Dallon a half hug, overly aware of showing too much PDA.

“Hi.” Dallon kissed his cheek, and his mother greeted Brendon before going to join his parents in the kitchen. This was all so pointless. They knew each other plenty.

“I’m sorry. This is gonna be painful.” He apologized in a whisper.

“You’re being dramatic. It’ll be fine. C’mon.” He led Brendon to the kitchen, walking in on a conversation already. He hated feeling like an outsider in his own house. Like he didn’t know something everyone else did.

“Hi, Dallon.” Brendon’s mother greeted too cheerfully.

“Hi. Thank you for inviting us.” He smiled charmingly and shook Brendon’s father’s hand. Brendon hated how well they all got along sometimes.

“Of course. Dinner will be ready soon. Brendon, will you set the dining room table, please?" He nodded perhaps too quickly, taking it as an invitation to get away from them. He got too overwhelmed too easily.

“Sure. Dallon, will you please come help me?" He captured Dallon’s wrist without a response so Dallon had no choice but to follow him. They passed the dining room and Brendon led him to the hallway under the stairs, hiding them from their families as they continued to talk in the kitchen. Brendon leaned back against the wall, covering his face with his hands.

Their feet almost touched in the narrow space and Brendon kept his eyes down, as if he were embarrassed to be standing there with him, under the stairs like he needed to hide. Like his relationship was something to hide. But he didn't, and it wasn't. Brendon was just good at running scared.

“Do you think they know?” He asked, his voice hushed so that no one would hear. “That we're, you know, talking about having sex...?"

"I didn’t think I was wearing a wire, Brendon." He folded his arms, but when Brendon looked up he caught the sympathetic smile on his face. "Look, I don't think that's what this is about. I really think that they just wanna get to know each other since we're serious now. We are serious. They have a reason to want to spend some time together. I agree, the timing is scarily questionable, but your mother works in weird ways."

Dallon had a point; of course she didn't know. Matt never told anyone anything, neither did Tyler, and his dad promised he hadn't. He knew better than to betray Brendon's trust like that. He just couldn’t help his own paranoia.

With a nervous laugh, he reached up to scratch at his neck in exasperation. He couldn't— he didn't want to do this. Mix family and his love life. He knew Dallon had been there before, slept over and stayed for dinner, had conversations with his family even when he wasn't there. But this was different. This felt more final, like it had a purpose. And it did.

Brendon reached up to tangle his fingers in his hair. "I'm just scared of being too open. I know that sounds stupid but I've always been really private and now I can't help but think that I'm sharing too much and it... it feels scary. Like, I know I told a few people because I wanted advice but now I'm scared and I— I know it's a stupid thing to be afraid of."

Dallon dipped his head to watch the way Brendon examined his sock-clad feet like they were more important than anything else going on. "I mean, I understand that you wanna keep to yourself. But you've been getting pretty good at letting people in. I mean, you've let me in." He reached out to rub Brendon's arm. "You're scared of a lot, aren't you?"

Brendon peeked up to meet concerned blue eyes. "Uh-huh. Always have been. When I was younger I had this fear that there were skeletons hiding in my closet and I couldn't sleep. It was bad. I had all these nightmares that the skeletons were waiting until nighttime to come out and attack me, I always woke up crying because I was so scared and I climbed into bed with my parents to get away from my own room. My bad thoughts. Made me feel safe. Still does sometimes. But, y'know, because of other stuff. Not the skeletons. I'm not scared of those anymore."

“No kidding." He let out a humorous huff. "So you were scared of the skeletons in your closet?"

"Yeah." He looked down at his feet and laughed in embarrassment. He never told anybody that, but then again Dallon had a way of making it easy to open up. "The irony is not lost on me."

Dallon laughed quietly, bumping their feet together by accident in the narrow space. “Look, Brendon, this won't suck. I promise. It might be weird— I mean, it definitely will be weird, but our families know each other. We know each other. We know each other's families. We'll answer questions about our lives that they desperately try to pretend don't pertain to our relationship, we'll eat and talk and I'll hold your hand under the table."

Brendon half smiled sheepishly. He knew it was silly to be so paranoid, he knew, but then again he could hardly help it. His senses were heightened and he was feeling a little like prey. “Okay. Good." He reached out to take his hand again, and when Dallon accepted it he led him back to the dining room. Dallon promised, and that was good enough for him.

They sat beside each other at the table and Dallon had been right, about things being okay. They ate and talked and laughed over old relics of lives lived before they had known each other. Brendon’s parents asked Dallon questions and Dallon’s mother asked Brendon, trying to see whether they were a good match. They were; they didn’t have to ask to know.

Brendon stared at the ceiling that night, his eyes on the dinosaur holding a cake, and he realized all at once that he and Dallon weren't taking baby steps. They were taking major strides. Like the first man to walk on the moon kind of steps, ceremonious, something to stick a flag in and note in the history books.

They had been friends for a while and dating for some time, but what stuck out more was the shift. Everything happened all at once. Confessing their love, talking about the future, dinner with their parents like families joining often did. The thought that soon they were going to have sex because they loved each other and that meant something.

They may not have been walking on the moon, but they were walking, and that was worth something, too.


	22. Chapter 21: In a Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey this is basically all smut so skip this if you're a minor yo

At the end of the week Brendon found himself walking beside Dallon with their fingers intertwined, on their way home from their date downtown. Brendon was in a good mood, laughed at everything he said and danced to no music walking down the street and smiled stupidly all night. He knew that things were different. Of course they were. They'd talked about it. Planned it. It was happening.

Brendon followed Dallon into the small apartment he'd grown to know well, smiling subconsciously at the familiar sound of Dallon's keys in the door. He knew what the night was. Neither he nor Dallon had outwardly said it, and he wasn't sure if Dallon was thinking it too, but tonight was the night. It had to be.

He was nervous, following Dallon down the hall to his room. They both had to feel it, something lingering in the electricity lines between the two, something intangible and warm. Because it was buzzing deep in Brendon's veins and Dallon had to be able to tell. His hand was sweaty in Dallon's, he had been holding it all night as they walked under the stars and the streetlights and the misty, post-rain air. But Dallon didn't mind, and Brendon couldn't bring himself to, either.

He felt like a new person, almost. And maybe it was taking new steps with his boyfriend or maybe it was the summer, spending it like he never had with friends and Dallon and trying to find his new beginning. He had been searching for something for years and it felt like maybe he was almost there. Summer was a time for rebirth. Or maybe it was spring, but, well. He was taking advantage of the break from the uniformed, structured schedule of high school to find himself and what he loved.

But it had occurred to him at some point that perhaps what he needed to know now, at such a tender age, was not what he loved, but instead who he loved. In time he would grow and change and change some more, and for someone who never liked change, he was welcoming it with open arms this summer. He'd been too guarded, too scared to let go of his past self, but now was time that he let himself begin his own metamorphosis.

Brendon wiped his palms on his skinny jeans when Dallon dropped his hand to turn on the Christmas lights in his room, leaving him awkwardly rocking back and forth on his socked heels and waiting. They had planned on watching a few movies on The Movie List, ready to cross a few off, though that was never really what they'd intended. They both knew that. Neither said it.

"You look nice tonight; I don't know if I've told you yet," Dallon said quietly as he took a seat on the bed beside Brendon, awkward in a middle school crush kind of way but comfortable nonetheless. Brendon looked up at him in disbelief through fluttering eyelashes, finding himself smiling, and Dallon had told him a few times that night, at the restaurant and on the walk home and when Brendon stopped to point at the sunset and a dog and the moon. But it felt the same when he heard it every time. "You always look nice, don't get me wrong. But tonight, there's something about you."

Unable to take a compliment, Brendon looked away, cheeks red, and Dallon was always making him blush. Always trying to make him blush, too, because he just loved that look on Brendon's face when he realized that everything he had was perfect. "Stop." He insisted, embarrassed.

"No." Dallon reached out to place a hand on Brendon's arm, earning his gaze again. "No, I mean it, Bren. I know you don't think so but... you're incredible. Look at you."

Brendon didn't know how to respond so he didn't, just stared for a second because Dallon had a way of getting to him. He didn't know how to use his words so Brendon pulled him close calculatedly, so damn nervous, and released a shaky breath before their lips met like they never had before. Without hesitance Dallon pushed against his mouth, a response, and Brendon felt that kiss all the way down to his toes. He swore that every time they touched, he felt like he belonged, like everything meant something and all of it was worth it.

It was cliché, and it was silly, and it was stupid but he swore that nothing could or would ever live up to the intense, indescribable love he had for Dallon. It had been building up in his chest for months, filling the spaces between his ribs, coursing through his veins. And he didn't care about it being cliché or silly or stupid because he was dizzy happy and he wanted to be this happy for the rest of his life.

Brendon felt Dallon's lips move against his own like a timid greeting, his hand sliding up to wrap around the back of his neck as he let his lips part like they always had for him, an invitation. Testing the waters, testing their limits, dipping their heads to the side for their lips to melt together like they belonged. They did belong. Long lost puzzle pieces reunited, a picture of a love story, a tale as old as time.

For a few weeks they'd been talking about it, but Brendon had been thinking about it for months. Just the general topic for much longer, though he wouldn't admit it if anyone asked. Still, he had imagined this as simply a pipe dream, a figment of his imagination that would never stray from that: his imagination. But, well, here he was, and here Dallon was. Alone. Together.

With timorous fingers Brendon unbuttoned Dallon's shirt slowly, calculatedly, second guessing himself and wondering if he was reading the moment wrong. Dallon paused all motion and was quiet for a second, thinking. He knew where it was going, Brendon was initiating it, they’d talked about it enough and Brendon had finally decided what he wanted.

Dallon moved his lips away from Brendon's just enough to ask a hushed, breathy, "Are you sure?" His words were warm against Brendon's lips as the question framed itself of importance. Was he sure? He was. He had to be.

Brendon nodded, somehow more sure than he had ever been. Maybe he was letting too much ride on one experience but things weren't all so comprehensive. This had been foggy for years.

He unbuttoned the last two buttons slowly like he had to feel the motion through his fingertips and Dallon was silent, letting him make the first move. He pushed the shirt off of Dallon's shoulders slowly and let his eyes wander, letting his hand, too, as he reached out and touched his bare shoulder. It was like fresh snow, never having been touched, a racing purity in a single touch, a single gaze, a single nod.

Brendon took off his glasses, because maybe seeing clear would be a bad idea. "Positive."

Taking that as initiative to let himself take control, Dallon leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, honey sweet, and then to his cheek, and his neck, and across his collarbone, infinitesimal in the way it was there only seconds as he bumped his nose against him, cool metal against hot skin. He held Dallon's waist, smiling in a way he had never smiled before, as Dallon began to pull his tee shirt off over his head.

Dallon gripped Brendon's biceps when Brendon moved down to kiss his neck, lips against hot skin, teeth grazing gentle flesh because he hadn't thought about this part. How to do it. And the thought that Dallon hadn't done this before either occurred to him when they tangled their fingers together awkwardly, connecting blindly as Dallon threw his head back and Brendon trailed his lips up his neck, going to kiss him but getting his chin with his tongue instead.

All of a sudden Dallon burst out laughing and threw his head back hysterically. Of course Brendon had to embarrass himself at this time. On this night, of all nights. "You licked my chin!" He laughed as Brendon ducked his face in his chest.

Dallon snorted, causing another round of laughter, and Brendon buried his face in his shoulder, muffling his own laughter and shaking out his nerves. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm doing."

"Hey, I don't either." He cupped Brendon's neck, sliding the tips of his fingers into his hair, and Brendon smiled sheepishly when Dallon’s laughter faded. "I don't either."

"I'm sorry I'm so awkward." Brendon apologized, heat in his cheeks.

"It's okay. We'll figure it out together." Dallon assured him as they kissed, lips warm against Brendon's, leaving them buzzing with electricity in a way they hadn't been before. "Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay." Brendon kissed him again, head lolling to the side and hand settling politely on his shoulder, afraid to go further in a way that was almost silly because this was Dallon, and him, and something they had planned, thought about for months, swore would be perfect in a way that was so viscerally them. Maybe that included Brendon not knowing what to do, and Dallon pretending he did.

Smiling dreamily, Dallon brushed his nose against the smooth, pale skin of his cheek, inhaling to take in his scent. With nervous hands Brendon tugged Dallon closer, inexplicably excited in spite of his anxiety.

Dallon ran his fingers slowly and gently over Brendon's chest, feeling him there, feeling his existence, but as if he were afraid of discovering that he wasn't really there. Brendon's sigh was absorbed by Dallon's mouth, caught with words he never knew how to say, as he trailed a finger over his stomach, down to the waist of his jeans.

As long fingers danced over the fabric of black denim Brendon stilled, hyperaware of what was happening. He inhaled in a shaky breath when Dallon pulled away, resting his forehead against Brendon's, pulse speeding up, blood rushing through his veins, but he wasn't scared. He was ready. He spent months waiting to be ready.

"Is this okay?" Dallon asked, eyes fluttering open, and Brendon nodded vigorously, letting out some sort of squeaky noise when Dallon kissed him again through a breathy laugh. It felt like touching him could be fatal, like he would unravel, like he was a porcelain treasure and they were scared of shattering something once beautiful. And in time they'd learn that things were never that simple, that nothing broke in a heartbeat but over time, though intertwined they were something that would bruise but never break.

He popped the button of Brendon's jeans and Brendon hooked an arm around his neck, the other wrapped around his bare side. He said nothing but stared down at a freckle on Dallon's shoulder as he pulled on the zipper and slowly tugged Brendon's jeans down his thighs as their lips met again.

Seconds later Dallon pulled away with a grunt and said, "I can't get your pants off."

Brendon threw his head back and laughed, and Dallon was laughing too when he recoiled. "Sorry. Jeans."

Brendon sat back against the pillows of Dallon's bed and lifted his hips to help, barely managing to get the skintight clothes down his thighs underneath their fumbling hands while they exchanged laughs and apologies. Brendon watched as black boxers and pale skin were revealed while Dallon removed them, finally, finally, finally, and proceeded to tug them past his ankles, letting them join the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Dallon looked up at him suddenly, eyes sparkling like the ocean, deep and unknowing, but Brendon felt protected when he looked into them. Like he knew something he didn't really, something that said he would keep him safe, that promise again. And Brendon believed it.

Dallon moved down to kiss the sensitive skin on the inside of Brendon's thighs and he gasped, not expecting it but not shocked, either, just pleasantly surprised. He let out a breath, tremulous and exultant and waiting for something more, but it never came. Just the feeling of warm lips against his flesh, wanton as a hand gripped his thigh, and Brendon's skin was taut but he loved Dallon's eyes on him. He just he wanted to be adored.

"You're so beautiful," Dallon whispered into his skin so quietly that it almost went unheard.

"Wait," Brendon interrupted suddenly, reaching out a hand to push at Dallon's shoulder. Dallon stopped and shifted to sit up, eyes wide. "We need to be equal."

Brendon leaned forward to unbutton Dallon's jeans fervently, slipped the button out of the slit in the denim and tugged on the zipper. Dallon smiled when Brendon couldn't manage to get his jeans down and shifted to pull them off himself, Brendon's hands were almost trembling but he was smiling. Dallon let his jeans fall to the floor with the rest of their clothes and they sat face to face, both burning red.

They gave each other a once-over and met each other's eyes before they burst out laughing again, awkward and tanning in the feeling of never having done this before. And it was funny, stupid funny, but this was Brendon Urie, little diner boy who spilled coffee and painted his nails and wore preteen girl's clothes and prayed to a dinosaur on his ceiling. And this was his Dallon, the boy that everyone knew but no one knew, the boy he never thought would give him a key. It was unorthodox and unpredictable, but somehow Brendon wondered how it hadn't happened sooner.

When the laughter had faded away and melted into nothing Dallon placed a hand on Brendon's side and tugged him close, sliding his hands down his body, taking him in and trying to tell if he was really there. Brendon knew the next part: displaying himself for physical and emotional vulnerability. But he trusted Dallon. More than he knew he should let himself.

Brendon shifted to let Dallon pull off his boxers and instead of worrying he just smiled, because he was open and exposed and vulnerable and happy. Dallon placed a hand on Brendon's waist and kissed his lips, his cheek, his neck, let his teeth scrape and smiled with Brendon's flesh in his teeth when he gasped, tilting his head back to give him more access.

"Fuck," Brendon whispered almost inaudibly under his breath. Dallon pulled away, and Brendon leaned forward to grab at his waist with a glance up at Dallon for consent.

When Dallon nodded, Brendon took a deep breath and pulled down the constricting fabric until it had joined the pile of clothes on the floor too. They looked each other over again and Brendon's face burned again at the realization. He was naked in front of somebody that wasn't himself in the mirror of his bathroom, locked in and alone. He was naked. They kissed, and Brendon felt the world stop turning.

"Wait." Dallon pulled away to reach down and grab something out of his backpack on the floor. He struggled with unzipping it for a moment so Brendon watched with alacrity, just staring, wondering how this was going to work. Dallon returned with a condom and Brendon's eyebrows skipped upward, shocked at his temerity because he hadn't even thought about that part yet. Dallon seemed to read his mind, because he explained, "I made sure I had them. Just in case you ever wanted to,"

"Yeah," Brendon answered for lack of better things to say. Awkwardly looking down at the sheets, he added, "I do."

"I figured." Dallon tugged the wrapper open with a quiet laugh and pulled the condom out without another word. Brendon had never actually touched one before, made the people at his table do it in health class during sex ed, but he was curious. It looked weird in person. He'd see them in class and on TV and stuff, but never like this. Health class never prepared him for this.

Brendon watched his boyfriend tantalize the thing in his fingers, waiting, and when their eyes met again, Dallon gave him a little smile of encouragement. Brendon swallowed, staring and not daring to let his eyes wander, as he asked a timid, almost silent, “Can I touch you?”

“Go for it.” He granted permission and Brendon slowly reached out to touch him nervously, delicately.

And never in a million years would he have guessed that tonight, of all nights, this would be where he was, naked under stars that granted more wishes than the real ones and still making wishes, ones that would come true, as two awkward people met something even more awkward than them, one scared of everything and one who scared everything away, though fear was relative, anyway.

And it was funny how things worked out sometimes, how if he never got paired up with Dallon for an assignment they never would have gained the courage to speak to each other, as for two years they made awkward small talk in lunch lines and in class when they shared a textbook.

But this was different. This was mature, and honest, and raw and real and them. This wasn't the old Brendon who was scared of the world. This was a version of Brendon that knew how to embrace it for all that it was worth because it could be scary but it could be beautiful, too, in ways his old fears had never let him realize. Because once upon a time nothing made sense but now things did, and it wasn't just him who realized it. He looked up to meet Dallon's eyes, bottom lip in his teeth, and they exchanged smiles, stepping over boundaries neither had actually set.

"Okay. We never talked about this part. How do you wanna do this?" Dallon gestured between them awkwardly, and okay, he meant positions. Places. Brendon had spent quite some time thinking about that too.

There was a burning desire that he needed to fulfill. Bone-craving desire for a boy that was sitting here for him, all for him. His darkened eyes flickered up toward Dallon's, unwavering, and he lowered his voice to a whisper that could barely be heard. "I want you inside of me."

One of Dallon's eyebrows went up at the bold statement, as if to ask if he were sure, but Brendon had never been so sure. What else was there, though? Dallon was all that existed right now. He nodded, a promise that he knew what he wanted, so Dallon nodded back. A done deal.

"D'you wanna..." Dallon gestured to himself and then the condom he was holding. Brendon hadn't said it out loud but he would prefer if Dallon took control, embarrassed to admit it though he knew where he stood. So he nodded, took the condom from his fingertips, and held it for a moment before he looked up at Dallon in embarrassment.

"I don't know how to do this." He admitted with a nervous laugh, but Dallon's half smile made him smile too, and he had nothing to worry about. He loved how comfortable they were together, like they were made to be here, together.

"I don't either." He laughed.

He rolled the condom up like he tried to remember from freshman year health class and put it on him with an awkward laugh while Dallon tried to hold himself still. Dallon laughed too, a little embarrassed that all the focus was on him, and watched Brendon with burning cheeks until he slipped it on. They looked up at each other with smiles still on their faces, if not a little disquieted.

This was really happening.

"Just to be totally clear, um. You don’t, uh, know what you’re doing, right? Like, you’ve never... done anything..." Brendon gestured around with his hands like he did when he was nervous, trying to remember everything Dallon had ever said to him, calculating truths and falsities his brain was tricking him into believing.

"I'm a virgin, Bren. You know that. You don't have to freak out." Dallon assured him, and Brendon's eyes softened, not knowing what to think. He knew he was, Dallon had mentioned it before in passing, but there were other things, too, other people, other experiences, other worlds Brendon hadn't been a part of.

"Okay, I know, that's what I thought, but I know I'm not the first person you've really been with, so I just thought that-"

"Don't think about who I used to be." He breathed out, eyelashes fluttering. "Think about this, now. Think about us. We're all that matters. Promise." He drew an X over Brendon's bare chest.

“So I’m your first?”

“You’re my first everything,” Dallon said in almost a whisper, eyes dark and lips irresistible. “You’re my first where it matters.”

Brendon stared at him, trying to see into a past that was so unclear though so was the future, but Brendon had always been a present type of boy. And maybe Dallon had a past that Brendon didn’t know about but he was pure, untouched. Brendon didn’t need to know anything leading up to this moment because this was all that mattered to him.

"Okay." He nodded, swallowing thickly. "Okay."

"Like I said, we'll figure it out together," Dallon added, leaning in to press their mouths together.

Brendon nodded again, trying to be as positive about this as his boyfriend was, so Dallon reached down to pull something else out of his bag. This time it was a small bottle of lube, and when Dallon held it up with a comical look on his face Brendon laughed like a child, thanking God that Dallon had been the one to prepare.

"Your ability to just go out and buy this stuff without hesitance amazes me,” Brendon said as Dallon clicked open the bottle with a laugh, buoyant and smooth, and Brendon couldn’t believe how in love with a sound he could be.

"It's so awkward." He coated his fingers and let out another humorous breath while he tried to figure how much to use. "I stood outside for ten minutes building up the courage to go inside and ask the woman at the register where they were."

"That's real sexy," Brendon whispered jovially, and Dallon laughed again, using his free hand to push gently on his bare chest to guide him to lay on his back against the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. "Is it gonna hurt?"

"Probably, yeah," Dallon told him honestly, letting his hand linger as he didn't quite know what to do with it. Brendon frowned up at him, having been expecting a little reassurance. "Everyone's first time hurts, Bren. You'll get used to it. I'll be gentle, I promise." He leaned down to kiss him, if only for collateral. "Keep going?"

Brendon nodded with consent and Dallon slipped a finger inside of him for preparation, trying to be careful but making his body jerk nonetheless. “Oh, god.” He gasped, his muscles clenching, unused to the foreign thing inside of him. "Fuck, Dallon, what the fuck."

"I'm sorry." Dallon apologized but didn't stop, and Brendon mewled, body tense as he shifted his hips. "I know it hurts at first, but I need to get you ready. You'll be fine. Tell me if it's unbearable and I'll stop."

"Mhm." Brendon pouted but let him go, anyway.

He pushed his finger in circular motions and Brendon shifted his weight to get used to the feeling of something new inside of him, unfamiliar and uncomfortable, burning where Dallon fingered him slowly. He shifted his hips up when Dallon curled his finger, and Brendon wondered how he knew what to do.

"Oh." Brendon's eyes fell shut when Dallon pushed in another finger with caution, trying not to hurt him. “Oh, fuck.”

Dallon arched his back, bending down to kiss his stomach. "You okay, baby? You still with me?" He thrusted his fingers slowly into him, holding his hip and his heart where Brendon had given it to him. Brendon nodded, already sweaty and out of breath, hair falling in his eyes.

"Yeah. Feels weird." He said simply while Dallon pushed his hair back and out of his face.

Dallon let out a quiet sigh and worked his fingers a little slower, trying to prepare to slide them out. "Okay. And Brendon...”

He almost grunted back. "Hm?”

"You don't have to come. Just tell me if it doesn't feel good and I'll stop. I know people feel pressured during sex to pretend it's good even if it's not but don't worry about that, don't worry about anything. I won't be offended or anything, I'm not expecting to be good at this right off the bat. You shouldn't either. I just want us to like, be honest. You don't have to impress me."

Brendon giggled; he wasn't worried about getting off. "It's okay. Keep going. Don't get so in your head right now.”

With Brendon's okay Dallon kissed his stomach again and proceeded to pepper kisses down until he reached his v-line. Brendon reached out to brush hair from his forehead as he sucked on his skin, scraping teeth, claiming some territory. Brendon threw his head back and tried to breathe, almost used to the feeling of fingers inside of him, and pushed back against them when Dallon pushed them in.

Dallon moved his face in between his thighs, dipping a hand under one and pushing it away from the other, and before Brendon could even open his eyes to see what was happening, Dallon was licking at him and Brendon felt like he was melting. He moaned involuntarily when Dallon swirled his tongue around for a moment, high pitched and wanting.

But as soon as he was there he was gone, and Brendon whimpered at the loss of his touch when he removed his fingers with one swift motion. Brendon reached up to tug him down for another kiss and their mouths opened against each other innately, desperate for contact. Bodies pressed against each other and God, they were so close, they were so fucking close and Brendon could feel his body heat radiating onto him.

Brendon pushed his tongue against Dallon's, tasting himself and the recognizable flavor of Dallon's toothpaste in his mouth. And Brendon was fully aware of what was happening when he felt Dallon position himself at his entrance and bring one hand down to lace with Brendon's, trying to calm him as found himself anxious all of a sudden.

"You sure this is what you want?" Dallon asked softly when their lips separated for air. His eyes met Brendon's big, curious ones, and they seemed to read each other but then again, they always had. Brendon nodded, mouth ajar, lips red and sore. Dallon would bite at them too, in time, already mapping out the way to Brendon’s mouth.

"Please." He whispered as he gripped Dallon's bicep, desperate. He needed something, anything. “Should I like, change my position?”

Dallon shook his head and examined the way he was lying on his back, analyzing. Hands and knees felt too derogatory, and he wanted to see him, kiss him, watch him come undone. “No, I think this is fine. I could make it work.”

“Okay,” Brendon trusted him.

Dallon lowered himself above Brendon to adjust himself, making his presence known, and Brendon’s pupils dilated to take in what was happening when the boy leaned down to kiss him, trying to set him at ease as he adjusted the angle of his hips. Brendon waited, breathing heavy, eager.

"Wait." Brendon stopped him suddenly, and Dallon peeked up at him. "I'm scared."

He thumbed Brendon's cheek carefully, making him tilt his head to the side at the gentle touch. Everything Dallon did was so gentle. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No. I just want you to know how I feel. I feel scared."

Dallon half smiled, and Brendon smiled back. He wanted to be open. Emotionally available. "I know, baby. But trust me, you're gonna be okay. You're gonna be safe. You trust me?"

Brendon nodded, because he did. The boy with such visceral trust issues was clawing his way out of the dark cave he'd been hiding in, but the only difference was that when he found the light of day he would find something else too. A sense of purpose, maybe. Or maybe just someone that made him feel safe.

"Yeah. I trust you."

"Okay. You wanna keep going?" Brendon nodded. "Okay. Tell me to stop and I will." Dallon whispered before he pushed in slow. Brendon was tighter than he thought but he nodded to tell him to do it anyway. He was so desperate. So needy.

He guided himself with a hand steady on Brendon's side and the other on his flushed pink cheek, trying to keep his movement consistent though Brendon was already ahead of him. He felt heat tear through his body and he clenched around Dallon as he tried to work up the courage to go in further.

All of a sudden Brendon gasped and dug his fingernails into Dallon's upper arms in pain.

"Wait, fuck, stop." He cried. Dallon stopped immediately and reached down to cup Brendon's neck and stroke his cheek with his thumb, wiping away the single tear that had rolled out of his right eye. His thighs burned with excursion and his eyes were watering at the pain. He didn’t think it would be this bad.

"You okay?" He asked softly. Brendon was shaking slightly, just enough, and Dallon slid a loving hand down to rest on his waist as Brendon responded with a single nod. He was about to stop altogether, but Brendon didn’t want that. He wanted to do this. He just needed to catch his breath, was all.

"It's a lot." He huffed out simply.

Dallon gave him a look of concern. "We don't have to-"

"I want to. I can do it. You’re just a lot bigger than your fingers." Brendon interrupted with a shaky sigh, and he peeked up to see the blush on Dallon’s cheeks. So he’d flattered him. "Okay, go. Just,"

"I'll be gentle," Dallon promised, and Brendon nodded, telling him to try again.

He went slow and pushed in further before he stopped to let Brendon get used to the new feeling, placing a few careful kisses to the corner of his mouth and down his jawline and neck. Brendon spread his legs to hook around Dallon's and tried to make himself more available, but he had never done this before, didn't know how it worked, so he just took whatever Dallon gave him and wondered how this was supposed to feel good.

Dallon tried to angle his hips and Brendon closed his eyes, trying to focus on anything besides the pain of something so unfamiliar entering his body. He felt heat tear through his abdomen like a bullet and he brought his legs up to wrap around his boyfriend's waist, ankles hooked at his lower back to keep him close. Dallon’s chest was pressed against his, and Brendon felt a little bit of the pain melt away.

Dallon braced himself above Brendon to steady himself and thrusted against him slow, pushing in another inch. He felt Brendon’s fingernails digging into him. “This okay? Hurts?”

“Mhm. Did... for a minute. Just keep moving, Dallon. You gotta keep moving.” Brendon told him breathlessly. Dallon nodded and did as he was told, trying to keep a steady pace, going slow, searching for a happy medium for Brendon between pain and pleasure.

Brendon opened his eyes to look at his boyfriend, hair matted to his forehead with sweat, lips sore, chewed and torn but bright red and slick with both of their spit. The dim Christmas lights cast an ethereal glow on his body, making him look angelic with that face like heaven. Dallon smiled at him genially and Brendon smiled back but it didn't last long, as he let out a gasp when Dallon pulled almost all the way out and pushed back in, keeping a gradual pace.

"Okay," Dallon whispered against his mouth when Brendon's eyes fell shut suddenly. His voice was a familiar sound, and Brendon was shaking.

Brendon brought his hands to his shoulders and dug his fingernails into the soft skin to help steady himself as he moved his hips along with Dallon's thrusts. Brendon found the perfect way to raise his hips against Dallon’s for more friction, and slowly he could see why this would feel good. Dallon started to hit the right spots. Dallon grabbed one of Brendon's hands and held it down against the pillows underneath the latter with their fingers tangled together and kissed him hard before he pulled away with Brendon’s bottom lip caught in between his teeth.

Brendon moaned into Dallon's mouth as his slow thrusting became steadier when he pushed a little further into him, learning his body and what he liked, where he liked it. He liked the way Dallon kissed a certain spot on his neck, how he held him close and used his eyes to assure him. The feeling of his body. His skin. God, his skin.

Dallon's free hand roamed his body as it pleased, trailing down his stomach almost teasingly, and Brendon didn't even know he could be turned on from such a simple touch. He whimpered and whined while Dallon traced his body with want. Dallon got his length in his hand and stroked languidly as he dipped his head to kiss down his neck. "Better?"

"Yes." Brendon tilted his head back, holding Dallon's shoulder and humming with pleasure as he looked up at the walls of Dallon's room, more intimate now than it had been once.

Under the art Brendon felt like he was in a museum, infatuated despite his being uncultured though this was art he understood, as it was a manifestation of who Dallon was and he never knew anything more than his Dallon. And somehow he wanted to know more, not just about Dallon but what he loved, who he loved, maybe himself. Dallon's hands held him close and he felt as if he were on display, in his most vulnerable state, exposed and susceptible but too in love to care.

Fleetingly he wondered if these were the moments that sparked the most provocative pieces of art, the moments of purity and lust and true enchantment. He felt as if he knew something, underneath Dallon with the art hanging above them like it were keeping them safe in each other's arms. And there he was, with the prettiest piece of art of all, tantalizing and captivating, fused at the lips, and he was sure he'd never seen a creation so beautiful in his life.

"Ah," Brendon moaned when Dallon angled his hips again, thrusting upward until suddenly pleasure overcame pain. Brendon's body jolted violently when he felt Dallon hit that spot, he got it now, and Dallon held him down as he sputtered out a desperate, “fuck. Oh, fuck."

Dallon took that as initiative to thrust in a little further, eating up the wanton groans that Brendon let out as he moved faster, maybe a little harder, finding the way their bodies moved smoothly against each other. The adrenaline in Brendon’s veins pushed all the pain away for a minute, he knew it was supposed to feel good but he never knew why, knew there was something he didn't know yet.

Brendon bucked his hips up to cause more friction and Dallon caught his lips in a messy kiss, half desperate and pulling him closer. Two open mouths collided, and not everything was perfect but Brendon’s perfectionism complex had melted away with the feeling of Dallon’s fingertips pressing against him, hard until they bruised.

Dallon thrusted upwards once more to hit the same spot and Brendon’s mouth fell open. “Fucking— fuck, Dallon.”

And God. Heaven help me, the thought graced his mind as they got caught up in the moment, pieces falling into place, mouths melting together like Dallon was trying to get him to remember the taste of his lips. Something that would haunt him forever if they were to crash and burn. But they were burning tonight, tangled up, two hearts beating as one.

Dallon's hips snapped against his own and he gasped, digging fingernails into his skin and rolling his hips upward, moving responsively as pleasure shot up his abdomen like the pain melted into adrenaline and a million endorphins were released. Dallon was quiet, letting Brendon make enough noise for the two of them.

"You know what you're doing," Brendon huffed. The pain had long since faded away by the time Dallon's thrusting began to lose its steady rhythm. Brendon felt a pool of heat in his stomach that had built up from a null, gaining prominence with each thrust, each time their hips slotted together, each time Dallon kissed at his jawline or bit his neck or trailed a hand over burning skin.

"Just pretending." Dallon rolled his hips up and buried his head in Brendon’s shoulder, biting down and making Brendon cry out, tangling a hand in his hair and pushing it out of his face. And when it came down to it Dallon could tear him apart and build him back up, and Brendon would let him do it for his own pleasure. Maybe his own pleasure, too.

"God, yes," Brendon whined, nails breaking skin as he clawed at Dallon's biceps though a little bit of pain never seemed to bother them.

"Bren," Dallon whispered suddenly when Brendon arched his back into him, Dallon's hand pressed to the center of his back. "You have a perfect ass."

Brendon let out a breathy laugh. "Stop, you're such a dork."

"Seriously." Dallon giggled and Brendon did too, grinning when he tried to kiss Dallon; it was mostly teeth and then laughing some more, messy and uncoordinated.

Without warning Dallon pushed into him harder, faster, and Brendon whined, taking it well for his first time despite the burn, knew he'd feel it later but the feeling now was well worth it. His muscles tightened around him and Brendon wanted it to last, wanted this so much longer, wanted to be close to him, and Dallon was breathing heavy above him as sweaty hair hung in his eyes and his lips caught Brendon's again.

He stopped a second and Brendon did too, both of them just breathing, and Dallon leaned down to kiss him slow, slow, slow. Brendon bucked his hips up, on edge, when Dallon kissed his cheek, his jawline, the shell of his ear, before he bit down gently and dug fingers into pliable skin. He thrusted again and Brendon came against their stomachs without warning, body thrumming with energy. He held Dallon close, biting down on the patch of skin under his ear, holding onto him tight as Dallon pushed into him hard until he came too, Brendon's muscles clenching around him.

Their eyes met and Dallon brought a hand up to hold Brendon's face still, body shaking. And he was sure he’d never seen anything so beautiful, Brendon’s skin, slick with sweat and God knows what else, plush lips red and sore, pupils dilated, head thrown back, panting.

Blue eyes full of euphoria, Dallon pressed another messy kiss to bruised lips, both out of breath and sated. Brendon was shaking when Dallon pulled out slowly, thighs quivering, suddenly empty and feeling a sting where Dallon had been. Dallon sat up, running a hand down Brendon's bare leg, leaving a smile in his wake.

He rolled the condom off and tied it up while Brendon squirmed over to one side of the bed, his body sore already, watching Dallon toss it into the trash can across the room. "Yay." Brendon cheered softly. Dallon twisted his body to look at the cheeky smile on his face, falling in love again because that was what you got with Brendon Urie. He made you fall in love, relentlessly and unapologetically.

"I love you." He said, and the words felt more visceral tonight.

"Mmm." Brendon hummed, content and too lax to respond, instead watched Dallon grab a few tissues and clean himself off, balling them up and then helping Brendon too, as he laid back and stretched, suddenly exhausted.

Dallon reached down to grab his boxers from the floor and tugged them on as Brendon watched, disbelieving. "How does it feel?" He picked up Brendon's, handing them to him as heat rose in Brendon's cheeks. He just had sex. He shared his body with somebody else. He had another boy inside of him.

"Kind of painful, but... good. It was good. Not like I have anything to compare it to, though."

With a warm smile Dallon rooted around in the drawer to gather two pairs of pajama pants and tee shirts and handed one to Brendon as he sat up slowly, extending his legs with a sigh. "Hey, go to the bathroom, babe." Dallon pat his side and Brendon looked up, smiling as he tugged on his clothes.

"Excuse me?" He laughed.

"C'mon? I read things, I have conversations, I want you to go make sure you're okay." He waved his hands so Brendon stood up, already sore, rolling his eyes though Dallon had good intentions and pressing his lips to the corner of Dallon's mouth. Dallon smiled after him, and Brendon disappeared to the bathroom.

Only when he inched in front of the mirror did he see himself smiling wide, and yeah. He had a feeling.

Palm open, he tapped the glass with his hand. "High five." He giggled to himself, examining his messy, sweaty hair and the faint marks Dallon's mouth had left on his collarbone. Dallon's mouth. Grinning, he added, "You're an official non-virgin."

He laughed again, feeling silly as he turned to tuck his hand beyond the waistband of his pants. He felt around for a second before he retracted his hand and squinted, leaving traces of red on his fingertips. Overexertion. He'd say that was just about right. But he felt okay, he looked okay, and hell, he was okay. He was perfect. He washed his hands in the sink and slipped out of the bathroom.

"Hey, I'm bleeding a little, is that okay?" Brendon asked as he kicked the door shut, flopping back onto his bed as Dallon turned off the lights and joined him.

Dallon pushed hair off of his forehead, making him smile adoringly as their eyes met in the dark. "Yeah, you should be fine. Not badly, right?"

Brendon shook his head softly. "Just a little. M'kinda sore. But it's not bad."

"Good. That means we did it right." Dallon said, and Brendon giggled, knew he was probably right because he read things and had conversations, too. "No, I think it's okay. Don't worry. And hey, we can stay in bed tomorrow morning, if you want. I know you probably won't wanna get up." He pulled Brendon close to lay against his chest, peppering a few kisses on the top of his head for good measure.

"You're thoughtful.” He his eyes wander. Dallon wrapped an arm around him and rubbed his arm comfortingly. "So, um, we just...”

"Yeah." They both paused to think for a moment before they laughed, Dallon's chest rising and falling underneath his cheek. And it put him at ease, all of a sudden. With Dallon he felt free. For once in his life he felt beautiful, loved, appreciated. Adored.

"That was good."

"You said that already," Dallon said and they giggled again in harmony.

"I don't know what else to say!" He laughed, shrugging underneath Dallon's arm.

"It was good," Dallon agreed, tugging at the sweatshirt Brendon was wearing though the boy didn't bother to move. "Did I hurt you?"

"Kind of. It was a lot to take at once." Brendon blindly reached out for his hand to play with his fingers for lack of better things to do with his hands. Dallon hummed and watched Brendon twist the ring off his finger and then push it back on, and he added, "I'm probably gonna be sore for a couple of days."

"Probably." He kissed Brendon's temple gently, and the boy smiled in content. "I think we were okay, you know? All things considered, of course. I just go by what I've been told." Brendon pushed the ring off and slid it back on. "I mean, I never had anyone to talk to about this. When I was fourteen my dad caught me looking at porn and it was really awkward cause, like. I'm gay. He couldn't give me the sex talk because what parents normally tell you isn't really relevant for gay kids."

"Oh, god. I would die." Brendon giggled, imagining how embarrassing it would be if someone walked in on him looking at that. "It's weird, being the only gay one in a family of straight people. Everyone always tried to talk to me about it and no one ever knew what to say."

"I know what you mean," Dallon whispered into his hair, and maybe he did despite his not having siblings and being alone for so long. Being hung up on things he couldn't change and dwelling on things that didn't deserve it, he gave himself no room for being who he would have been if he hadn't been so hurt. "You can tell them, if you want. Your siblings. And Tyler, too. I know you would want to, and, y'know. I'm gonna wanna tell my friends too. So as long as we don't share, like, details, then I think that'd be okay. Unless you wanna keep it a secret."

"It's not a secret." Brendon peeked up at him, eyes shining nonetheless. "But it is our business. So let's just promise to respect each other no matter what we say and who we tell."

Dallon linked his pinky with Brendon's. "Of course."

Brendon smiled at him again and rested his head back against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat because he caught Dallon's heart like Dallon caught wishing stars and fireflies once, too, as his father had told him they were good luck. And maybe it had all come full circle, now that he thought about it. Maybe things did have a way of working out when he didn't expect them to.

"Hey, Brendon?" Dallon's voice was hushed as he brought a hand up to comb through Brendon's hair gently. "Thank you. For everything." And it held more meaning than Brendon would know, until the coming months proved to him the pieces of Dallon that were tucked away, hiding. Brendon nodded, didn't quite understand what he was thanking him for, but he would. In time, he would.

"Thank you too," Brendon whispered almost inaudibly. Dallon pet his hair softly, sliding his fingers in the messy brown locks as they pressed against each other and let themselves fall comatose to the soft hum of the air conditioner and the feeling of bodies pressed together.

It was a long time coming. He'd spent weeks thinking about where he and Dallon would end up for nothing. He let it circulate in his mind so long that it almost felt cliched at the end of the night, but it was anything but. An insecure boy with a vendetta against vulnerability knocking down his walls to let in the only person who had figured him out: hardly a cliché, or maybe it just felt special to them.

Brendon knew that keeping himself vulnerable wouldn't last forever. He would return to standing his ground soon enough, put his walls back up. Keep everyone out for his own sake. Dallon got to see in, but would anybody else?

It was just something fleeting. Something between them, something in the sweet moment in time where there were no boundaries and there were no limits. He let him in tonight. That was enough for him.


	23. Chapter 22: For Sale, a Heart Unused

Sunlight peeked into the room and warmed their skin as they awoke in unison, feeling each other breathe but not saying a word. They didn’t need to. Brendon took his hand, outstretched in front of him, and the ring glinted in the sun when they twisted their fingers together. He felt safe. Warm.

“I can’t feel my arm,” Dallon whispered and Brendon laughed, he guessed holding someone all night could do that, and Dallon just smiled when Brendon turned over to give him some space. He settled back down, though, curling up as they looked each other in the face. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Brendon peeped, smiling softly back at him. They had sex. He’d had sex. It felt unreal. Impossible.

“So, I had a dream about us last night,” Dallon told him, just pillow talk, as he reached out to take Brendon’s hand. “It’s not necessary to psychoanalyze, all things considered, but... y’know.”

Brendon poked at his bicep playfully, warm all over. “I had the exact same dream!” He joked. “Was I wearing a giant bunny costume?”

“Yeah!” Dallon laughed and Brendon grinned, uncharacteristically happy.

“Hey!” He giggled, and his entire body felt soft. He hadn’t slept so well in ages. Dallon’s bed always did that. Made him feel at home. Dallon tilted his head at him and just stared for a moment, admiring Brendon the way that Brendon admired him too. This was their future. Waking up together, sharing everything and feeling safe. He loved that feeling.

The sunlight turned his hair golden and his eyes aqua. Brendon ran a hand down his side, tugging him close, and they bumped their noses together as they settled. “Last night was perfect,” Dallon whispered against his lips, breath hot but somehow chilling. Last night. Brendon couldn’t believe it wasn’t a dream.

“It was.” He agreed, his heart pounding at the thought of it. It was perfect because it wasn’t perfect. It was perfect because it was theirs.

“Mm,” Dallon hummed, looking him over, brushing his fingers across his skin. Falling in love with him because he could. “Do you want breakfast or something?” He asked after a moment, considering the time.

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to make me anything.” He assured him; he didn’t want to leave their cocoon. But Dallon sat up nonetheless so Brendon followed, but his body ached when he did. It would take some getting used to.

“Your stomach has been growling for a while. And I just— fucked you, Bren, I'm gonna get you breakfast." He hesitated with his words but they made Brendon blush when he said them. “You good?” He added, reaching out to take his hand and help him up.

“Mhm. Sore.” He laughed a little but let Dallon pull him up. “Happy, though. I’m really happy.”

“Good. I love when you’re happy.” He pulled him up to stand and surprised him when he pressed their lips together, holding him close for only a moment before he led him to the kitchen. Even now, Dallon had a way of surprising him.

Dallon's mom was making breakfast and she smiled up at them when she heard them step in, gesturing for them to sit. “Good morning.” She greeted, flipping pancakes at the stove. “I didn’t even know you slept over, Brendon. You’re so quiet. How’d you guys sleep?”

He wasn’t very quiet last night, he thought, but kept it to himself as Dallon poured him a glass of juice. “Good. I just had to get out of my house. Siblings being loud, and stuff.”

“Understandable. Dal? How’d you sleep?”

“I slept wonderfully, mother. What time did you get home? I didn’t hear you come in. Are those for us?” He handed Brendon a glass and slid in across from him after peeking over her shoulder at the food.

"Around midnight. I had to close up at work, so I went out for a late dinner with Jack. And yes, these are for you. And me. I feel like I’ve barely seen you. Have breakfast with me. You want pancakes, Bren?” She turned to look at him, turning off the burner.

“Yes, please.” He sighed, averting his gaze from the boy he’d seen naked just a few hours ago to his mother, distracted by their rambling conversation. He hadn’t eaten in a while. Pancakes sounded like heaven.

“Dal, you better not be starving him!” She berated, only half joking as she shoveled pancakes onto the plate. Brendon wanted to chime in and say he wasn’t, Dallon was perfect, but he saw him roll his eyes when his mother wasn’t looking and he wondered if maybe she wasn’t kidding.

“I’m not.” He defended himself. “Brendon eats a lot. He doesn’t look it, but it’s true. There's no way I could keep him and food apart."

“Well, good. Brendon, you should teach him your ways." She pointed at him with her spatula and Dallon cleared his throat in a don’t go there kind of way. He looked between them as Dallon’s mother set a plate of pancakes in front of him, wondering why it seemed as though the topic was so sensitive. If there was something he didn’t know. “Alright, alright.” She obeyed, and Dallon avoided his boyfriend’s gaze. “What are your plans for today?”

“Um, I think I wanna visit daddy today,” Dallon told her, mashing up his pancake with his fork.

Brendon looked at him in surprise, unaware of the plan, but watched Dallon’s mother nod in agreement. “I think that’s a good idea.”

“Me too.” He agreed, and Brendon could feel the tension between them, but didn’t mention it.

As Brendon changed in Dallon’s room after breakfast, stealing a shirt from his drawer, he asked casually, “So, you’re gonna go visit your dad?”

Dallon looked up as he buttoned his jeans and nodded. “Yeah. Are you okay with coming? It only really takes a few minutes. I can drop you off at home or go another time if you don’t wanna. I just feel like a bad son. I haven’t gone in a while.”

“No, I don’t mind going. Hey. You’re not a bad son.” Brendon reached out to get him by the hips and Dallon smiled gently at him, sometimes he just needed to hear it. “C’mon. I’d love to go with you. As long as I get to spend time with you."

“Okay.” Dallon hugged him, trying not to make a big deal out of nothing. Brendon just made him happy. He loved him for that. “Let’s get going, then. Would you like me to carry you to my car?”

Brendon smiled sheepishly. "I wish you would."

"Alright. Hop on, killer." He turned around and let Brendon climb onto his back, laughing when Brendon did too. Dallon always had this way of knowing what he needed. Brendon loved that about him.

Brendon leaned back in the passenger seat of Dallon’s car, smiling like an idiot while Dallon climbed into the driver’s. His body hurt but he was happy, he was so happy, he didn’t think it would end up making him feel so much closer to him. “My ass hurts so bad.” He mused with a laugh, pulling on his seatbelt.

“I’m sorry.” Dallon apologized, sketched through a laugh too.

“No, it was worth it.” He promised, tilting his head back to smile. In Dallon Weekes’ car, where a few months ago he had never been able to imagine himself. Back then, talking to Dallon had been a dream come true. This was even better. “I’m glad we did it. I was scared that I wouldn’t be prepared or that something would go wrong but I guess I was psyching myself out.”

“I’m glad it exceeded your expectations, then.” He bumped his fist against Brendon’s and Brendon giggled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He’d get used to it in time.

Dallon pulled into the parking lot of the cemetery and Brendon unbuckled his seatbelt, figuring that he would go with him. Dallon climbed out and crossed the car to take Brendon’s hand, leading him to where his father’s grave sat.

Brendon followed him silently, not really sure how to act here. He’d never experienced a death close to him. He’d never visited anybody at a cemetery, either. Dallon led him off the path and Brendon held his hand tight, looking around at all the headstones until they reached one that looked familiar.

Dallon was quiet for a second, his eyes lingering on the words engraved in the stone. “Hey, can you give me a minute?"

“Yeah.” Brendon squeezed his hand to let him know he was there for him, just in case. “I’m just gonna go make up backstories for people. I like to do that sometimes.” He added when Dallon smiled, amused. “We’ll find each other. Take your time.”

Dallon nodded gently in thanks so Brendon headed off, looking around for nothing in particular. Dallon sat down on the ground, made himself comfortable, played with the hem of his shirt awkwardly as he always felt weird about it at first. He felt like he never spent enough time there. Like no matter how often he visited, he still felt like he should visit more. He guessed that was what happened when they were all one way conversations.

“Hey, daddy.” He greeted softly, and despite everything he still felt like he was talking to him. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited this month. I should’ve. I’ve been busy. But I have a lot to tell you.” He laughed, feeling silly for telling his father before his mother. “Uh, I’m in love with this boy. And his name is Brendon. He’s only a year younger than me, but he has this childlike innocence that I really love. And he wants to know everything and he asks a lot of questions and I had sex with him last night and I’m really happy.”

He looked over to where Brendon had wandered, exploring and reading names he didn’t know. He had this way about him. This way he walked around like a little kid would, unsure but curious. Dallon loved his curiosity. The way he smiled and laughed and everything about him.

“You told me once that you hoped I found someone I can really, really love. And a few years ago I fell in love with someone who didn’t love me back. I thought that that was gonna be it. And then Brendon came along, and he changed everything.” He picked at the grass idly, remembering the day Brendon had found him here. “He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

A few yards away Brendon was bending down to read the name on a gravestone, squinting through his glasses because it was a bad habit. He wondered fleetingly what happened when people died. He wasn’t sure if he believed in God so he didn’t know about heaven and hell, but if they didn’t get sent somewhere then where did they go? It didn’t make any sense. People couldn’t just die. There had to be something more.

He looked over to see Dallon staring aimlessly at his father’s grave, as if waiting for an answer. He knew by now, though, that you couldn’t seek answers from a ghost.

“Hey.” Brendon greeted quietly, approaching him with ease. Dallon looked up, seemingly at peace. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, and stood up with a grunt. He ran his fingers gingerly over the stone before he pulled back, gaze lingering. “I’m okay. We can get going.” He wrapped an arm around him, guiding him back to the car.

“Hey, so.” Brendon started hesitantly as Dallon climbed in beside him, settling back down and digging his keys out of his hoodie pocket. “What did your mom mean today? About the eating thing? You seemed really defensive.”

He tried to ask casually but it came out worried, and Dallon tensed up as he stopped the motion of his hands. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He brushed it off, bristling away from the confrontation.

Brendon hadn’t meant to confront him. He just wanted to make sure he was paying attention. “Dallon.” He said gently, and Dallon sighed like he wasn’t even trying to hide that something was wrong. “Talk to me.”

“Brendon.”

“I’m sorry if I’m crossing any boundaries.” He put a hand on Dallon’s arm and immediately he tensed up under his touch. “But something seems off. And I care about you. Let me care about you.”

Dallon turned to look at him, hesitance clear in his eyes. Brendon felt comfortable with him. He felt comfortable telling him things about himself. He wanted Dallon to feel the same.

They had sex. Brendon didn’t want him to pull away so soon after.

He folded his arms over his chest defensively. “Look, it's not a big deal so please don't make it one. I just... I have these weird body issues, I guess.” He admitted after a moment. “It has something to do with my anxiety. I have an irregular appetite. That's what my doctors say. Sometimes I eat regularly, sometimes it's too much, and sometimes I won't eat for days at a time."

"You're not," Brendon paused to reword the question so that it wouldn’t offend him. How hadn't he known this? How didn't he pay attention enough to notice? Swallowing, he continued, "it's not anything dangerous… right?"

"No, no." Dallon reached out and put a hand on his thigh reassuringly, and Brendon let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "No, it's not that bad, I promise. Not anymore. It's just, my body does what it wants and for a few years... I've been different. What happened didn't just mess me up mentally, but physically too. Anxiety and whatever, makes it hard to keep stuff down sometimes." He paused, eyes still on his lap. "It's not that big of a deal, it's really not, but my mom is always hovering so she's really worried about me, especially when she feels like it's getting bad again. It's not, for the record, I've been healthy and my mental health has been fine. My doctor said that it was a normal reaction, but... yeah."

"What do you mean by not anymore?" He asked warily, and Dallon covered his face with his hand, obviously wanting the conversation to end. "Dallon."

"I'm like... really insecure, Bren." He admitted, and looked up to meet his eyes when Brendon frowned back at him. "I'm healthy. That's what matters. If I was in a bad place then I wouldn't have slept with you so trust me, I'm okay. I'm not unhealthy. And I'm not sick."

"Like... you're insecure about your body?" Brendon asked, not quite getting it, but Dallon swallowed, nodding carefully. "I don't see why."

"Because you don't see me the way I see me." He said, maybe a little hastily, but closed his eyes and added, "I'm sorry. I don't wanna snap at you. I'm just... not really ready to talk about it."

"But you're okay." Dallon looked up at him again, and Brendon added, "I just need you to promise that you're okay."

"Yes, I'm okay." He promised, and reached out to link his pinky with Brendon's. "And I swear that eventually you'll know everything, and you'll see it all, and you'll get it. I just don't know how to explain it to you." He shook his head gently, and Brendon knew that he had to wait, knew that things would make more sense the longer they knew each other, but he just... he was scared.

There were so many things to be scared of. The stakes were higher now. "I'm okay, Brendon, okay? That, I can promise you. I'm doing better than I have been in a long time."

"Okay. I trust you." Brendon nodded, and that would have to do. "I'm sorry for forcing that out of you. I didn't mean to be pushy or nosy or anything. I just... I care about you."

"I know you do, Bren. It's fine. If I can't be honest with you, then we can't have a serious relationship." His voice was sincere and Brendon's heart was pounding, eyes flickering upward toward Dallon's reserved ones with sympathy. He was careful about the way he looked at him with pity, had learned to control it when Dallon dug into his past, but every once in a while he couldn’t help it. Open up once, and all of a sudden he couldn't stitch himself back up. But this was different. Dallon was different.

Talk about a troubled artist.

Brendon didn’t know what else to say, looking between Dallon and his lap and the gravestones in front of them. How much one thing could change a person. How it could ruin something forever.

“Thank you for letting me in.” He said softly, resting a hand gently on his thigh.

“Thanks for making it easy.” Dallon shrugged, smiling gently. Brendon smiled too, he loved his smile, and Dallon stuck the key in the ignition. “But on the contrary, I'm starving right now. So we're getting lunch."

Brendon laughed amusedly as he looked at the clock. "We had breakfast like, an hour ago."

Dallon grinned back at him, suddenly full of sunshine, and Brendon’s heart flipped in his chest. "Like I said, sometimes it's too much. Let's roll."

* * *

At the beginning of the summer, Brendon he had set a goal. He wanted to find himself. He wanted to change with the season. He was letting himself do that. Stepping out of his comfort zone. Dallon wasn’t always in his comfort zone. And he didn’t know that by letting him in, he would take his insides out and paint them prettier. He felt like he’d taken his heart out to prove that somewhere out there, it could find its potential. And Brendon knew that, and Dallon knew that, but still he didn’t ask for it back.

It wasn’t all in vain. Dallon had given him his own heart too. It was a worthy exchange. Scary as it was, Brendon had done it to himself. He put it up for sale, a heart unused.

A few days after the act, he started to let things get to him again. All of his fears. That happened sometimes. It was only a matter of time this time. He was worried, though, after having sex. Worried that there were consequences and that it would create new expectations that he didn’t know how to fulfill. That he had no idea what he was doing, and that maybe it wasn’t the right thing for him right now.

What if they broke up? What if he messed up and gave Dallon a reason to break up with him? The questions spun around in his head like a hurricane. Everyone said to protect his heart. He thought that that was what he had been doing. But now he wondered if he spent too much time thinking about having sex and not enough time thinking about the repercussions.

Brendon’s dad flipped the open sign to say closed as Brendon climbed onto a stool, having waited patiently all day to talk to him alone. “Hey, buddy. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I think I’m having a panic attack.” He told him blatantly, maybe a tad bit dramatic but getting his point across. His dad raised an eyebrow, and Brendon added for clarification, “I had sex. Like, a week ago. And now I’m paranoid that something bad is gonna happen. Like he’s gonna break up with me or I’m gonna do something to ruin us or I’m gonna get an STD, and I can’t stop freaking out about this.”

His dad was quiet for a moment, staring at his son in thought. Brendon hated that he couldn’t read people like everyone else in his family could. He wished he’d inherited that ability. Reading minds could be useful in situations like these. His heart pounded in his chest, his anxiety clear, and mellowly, his father asked simply, “You and Dallon had sex?” Brendon nodded, eyes innocent. “And you were safe?”

“Yeah. But I’m still scared that we did something wrong. Can you take me to get tested? Just in case?”

“Yeah, Brens. Sure.” He agreed gently; Brendon could tell he wasn’t saying what he wanted to say. That this was important, his opening up, and not just to Dallon. That it was good that he was confiding in people and not as scared about everything and that he knew what to do. Brendon didn’t like to hear the lectures. It made him feel childish. He figured that after what he’d done, he wasn’t exactly a child anymore.

He sat in the waiting room of the doctor’s office the next morning, shaking his leg nervously until they called his name. He wasn’t ready to get tested for STDs. So what if he wasn’t ready to be having sex? He was still too young. He was still in the pediatrics unit at the doctor’s.

“How old do you have to be ‘til you’re not in pediatrics anymore?” He asked quietly, slipping off his shoes and climbing onto the scale.

“You’re required to switch once you’re twenty-five.” The nurse told him. He crossed his arms; he didn’t want to have to wait that long to have sex again.

“Hi, Brendon. Sorry for the wait.” His doctor greeted fifteen minutes later as she closed the door behind herself. “Lots of kids are here for their checkups. Getting an early start before the school year begins. So, it says here you’re here for an STD test?” She looked over her notes and he hummed the affirmative, always a little awkward talking to his doctor at first. “Alrighty. So, I’m guessing by the random interest in STDs and the off-schedule visit that you had sex.”

“Uh, yeah. With my boyfriend. He used a condom but I wanna take precautions anyway.” He explained, thumbing at the hem of his shirt.

“Okay. So you’ve been with a boy?” He nodded. “And you said that he used a condom. So, you’ve had receptive anal sex?” He made a face and thought for a moment before he nodded again, just assuming that that was what he did. “Just one partner?” He nodded again. “Okay. Any pain? Any blood?”

“Um, yeah." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I was pretty sore for a couple of days after. I’m not anymore. And there was like, a tiny bit of blood, I checked after, but I read online that that's normal...?"

"Yeah, completely. Typically from overexertion. I'm gonna check to make sure there are no tears though, just in case, but seeing as you're not feeling any pain anymore, it's not likely. Still, better safe than sorry." She smiled reassuringly, but anxiety sat heavy on his chest. Tears? "So, it's also normal that you were sore afterward. That can happen sometimes. Especially since your first sexual experience was anal sex, which requires a lot of preparation and care. I think you and your partner should do some research to make sure that you’re doing everything that’s right for both of you.”

“Okay. Sure.” He nodded, agreeing mostly because he didn’t really want to talk about it.

“Okay. So I’m gonna check for tears, and then give you a blood test to check for HIV, but since you were on the receiving end I think that we should do a rectal swab. And I’m going to ask that you leave a urine sample too.”

Brendon grimaced: he thought he just had to jerk off in a cup. He didn’t know it would require all this. “Rectal swab? That’s my ass, isn’t it?” He sighed, knowing full well that he wasn’t going to leave comfortably today.

She laughed and went to grab some stuff from the drawer. “Yes, Brendon, that’s your ass. We need to check it though, especially if you weren’t practicing insertive sex.”

Brendon crossed his legs at the ankles uncomfortably while she got a package of swabs out. “And that would be my boyfriend?”

She nodded, placing the items down on her desk with a smile. “Bingo! You catch on quick. I’m gonna ask you to pee in this cup, make sure you clean it and yourself up thoroughly after. When you get back I’ll check you out and take the swab, and then we’ll go to the bloodwork lab.” She handed him a bag and he accepted it, making a face again and not bothering to mask it.

“So, uh.” He started with hesitance afterward, following his doctor to the bloodwork lab after getting probed with a swab. “Do I really have to get my blood taken?”

“Yep. Sorry, honey. I know you hate it. Most kids do.” She pat his arm apologetically. There was that word again. Kids. He still wasn’t sure whether he fit into that category or not.

He sat down in the chair, still uncomfortable, and watched the doctor on duty wrap a neon blue strip around his forearm. He looked away when she searched for a spot to put the needle in because he hated needles, he always ended up nauseated and faint and in tears.

“Not a fan of getting blood taken, huh?” She asked gently, cleaning his skin with a cotton ball. He shook his head minutely and wondered briefly if she could read minds before he realized he must had looked sick, bracing himself for the pinch of the needle. “I never did either. How old are you? Fourteen, fifteen?”

He half smiled, but it was laced with fear. “Seventeen.”

Her eyebrows went up in surprise; he knew he looked young. “Wow. You’re small for seventeen. It’s a good thing, though, means you’ll look young when you get old.” She lowered her voice and added, “I’m twenty-nine and I still hate needles.”

He felt dizzy so he closed his eyes, feeling her fingers touch his arm as she prepared the needle. “So why do you work with them?” He made conversation, trying to distract himself as she prepared to pierce his skin.

“Because I like to face my fears head on.” She told him and he wished he could smile, but tears pooled in his eyes. “So, Brendon.” She read his name on the form. “Your doctor tells me you’ve got a boyfriend, huh? Tell me about him.”

“Yeah. Uh.” He squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his jaw and relaxing his fist. “I started dating him earlier this year. We were friends and I really liked him.” He felt a pinch and tears slipped down his cheeks involuntarily; he felt pathetic, he hated crying in front of strangers, he hated telling them things about himself, but she was trying to distract him. They always tried to do that here. “Uh. He’s an artist and stuff, so. He’s really talented. And he’s really nice. He’s really nice to me and everyone.”

“That’s good. We like nice boys. Bad boys aren’t cool anymore, huh?” She teased, and he peeked up at her when he felt her stick a bandaid on his arm.

“Tell me about it.” He agreed, glad she was trying to relate. “Am I done?”

“You’re done.” She confirmed, handing him a tissue. He felt stupid immediately, it was nothing to cry over, but sometimes the fear he’d harbored for years hadn’t completely gone away. Silly things scared him. He supposed that said something about his person. “You did a good job, sweetie. Go ahead and take some stickers.” She gestured to the basket of stickers and he knew it was childish, but childish things made him happy. He took a few, and some extra because he felt like he deserved it, and giggled to himself when he realized they were a reward for an STD test. He never pictured that things would turn so far off their axis.

He rocked back and forth on his heels in the middle of his bedroom later that day as he listened to the line ring, only waiting a moment before Dallon picked up the phone. “Hey. Is now a good time to talk? What are you up to?” He sat on the edge of his bed, biting at his nail.

“Hi. Yeah. I’m at my mom’s store helping out, but I can talk. I need a break, anyway.” He closed a door and the din of the store quieted down, muffling the sounds of shoppers and conversation. “Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. I just wanted to let you know that I went to the doctor’s today to do an STD test thing. They said everything looks good but I won’t have the official results for a little while. I just thought you should know. Like, for future reference.”

“Oh.” He sounded surprised, but then again they hadn’t really talked about it much since the topic of sex had come up between them. “Is that— was that something you were worried about? STDs?”

“I mean, yeah. Kind of. Not a lot, though, I don’t think you’re disease-ridden or anything. It just occurred to me after we slept together that we should probably take more precautions. Just to be safe.”

“Yeah, no, you’re right.” He agreed right away, taking it as himself having done something wrong. Brendon didn’t think he did. They were teenagers; they didn’t always think of everything. “I’m sorry. I should’ve gotten tested before I even said anything to you. I spent so long worrying about us being together that I forgot that kind of preparation. I bought everything and whatever but I didn’t— I didn’t get tested. I should have.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m not mad.” He assured him, guilty for giving that impression. “And I don’t think there‘ll be a problem either way. I mean, we used a condom and stuff. I just wanna be safe. I didn’t think it would be fair to keep letting you stick your dick in me without me at least making sure there’s no way I can infect you with something. I just freaked out for a minute. That happens sometimes.”

“That’s understandable.” He agreed, voice gentle. “So everything is okay? You’re not hurt? Everything is copacetic?”

“Oh, yeah. I'm fine.” He promised. “She said that it's normal for me to be sore and I'll get used to it. Don't worry. Everything is copacetic."

“Okay. Hey, thanks for telling me. I hadn’t even thought about all that. You don’t really think about it when you’re doing it, y’know? I’ll try to get tested soon. I promise. I want us to feel safe together.”

“I already feel safe with you. But thank you. That would make me feel better.” Brendon smiled to himself: not many guys would pee in a cup for him. “I’m gonna leave it at that, then, I think I’m gonna take a nap. Today took a lot out of me. Literally and figuratively.”

“Ew.” Dallon laughed quietly and Brendon giggled at himself, thankful he could say the things he said without judgment. “Hey, I’ll talk to you later, Urie. Get some rest.”

“I will. I’ll talk to you soon.” They exchanged goodbyes and Brendon laid back in his bed, smiling up at the ceiling.

Maybe he didn’t know everything, but he didn’t know nothing, and that was enough for him.

* * *

Getting tested made Brendon think a lot about where he stood sexually. He had been dwelling again, but this time it wasn’t on something that didn’t matter. Sex was a really big deal. It affected him and it affected Dallon. The fact that it involved someone other than himself meant more than anything, regardless.

He had thought once that after having sex, he’d feel like a different person. Like he would know something he didn’t before. And it was true that he felt different, but it didn’t change him. It didn’t make him any smarter than he had been before. He still felt like himself, and he realized that the pruriency was just another part of him. So was his having sex. It didn’t make him any different than he was.

He thought he would come out of it knowing something. But he didn’t. Not really. He still didn’t know anything about the world. He would someday, and on that day he would finally be able to fit each and every aspect of life in a box. It would be perfect. Everything would be definable.

Brendon knocked on the door in front of him a couple of times until Dallon’s mother let him in, smiling warmly when she saw it was him. “Hey. You look nice.” He complimented, as she was wearing a dress.

“Thank you.” She curtsied and they exchanged smiles, sharing a camaraderie they had developed rather quickly. “I have a date in a little while. Dallon is in his darkroom, if you wanna join him. I’ll be out of here in a few minutes.”

“Oh. Cool.” He left his things on the table and kicked off his sneakers, heading down the hallway. He hadn’t been in the darkroom yet. He wasn’t even really sure how they worked.

He knocked on the door and Dallon called for him to come in, expecting his mother but pleasantly surprised to see that it was Brendon. “Hi, baby. What’s up?”

“Hey. Nothing. Your mom let me in. She told me you were here. It’s pretty cool in here.” He looked around at the photos hanging up to dry and the red lightbulb, folding his arms. He was impressed. Not many people could pull something like this off. “Well, not cool. Wrong word. It’s actually, like, super hot in here.”

“Yeah, I have to have the door closed for the light so the air conditioning doesn’t reach. I normally just, like. Don’t wear clothes in here.” He gestured to his bare chest, skin slick with sweat. He was never very open about not wearing a shirt. Being vulnerable like that. Brendon knew that, but smiled to himself as he watched his muscles flex when he carded a hand through messy hair. His sweatpants hung low on his hips and Brendon only stared for a second, maybe a minute, just a bit too long, and then it seemed obvious. He felt like he couldn’t breathe in the heat. “If you wanna go wait in my room, I’ll be out there in a minute. I just wanna finish cleaning up while my stuff dries.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” He brushed it off, looking around at the scraps of paper as Dallon sorted things out. It was messy. It was his space. “It’s nice in here.” He added after a moment, breaking the silence as he felt the tension in the room. They didn’t have to mention it: they both knew it was there.

“Yeah, I like it.” Dallon agreed, seemingly cautious, as he pushed a few things into a drawer.

Brendon nodded slowly in agreement to say that he liked it as well, and only let himself stop when he was a few inches away from him. Getting into his space, as he liked to do when words failed him. “It’s dark. Private.” He added, hoping that Dallon caught on to the insinuation. He didn’t always like saying things. He liked to leave them up for interpretation.

Dallon seemed to understand, though, because he turned to face Brendon, tilting his head down to look him in the eye. Breathing just a little heavier in the heat with just the glow of a red light on his skin. “It certainly is dark and private.” He agreed, and in the dark Brendon couldn’t tell if the smile on his face was actually a smirk.

“You know, we could probably get away with a lot in here.” He suggested, testing the waters, but he didn’t need to. They knew each other well. Caught on quick.

“Yeah.” Dallon breathed, out of things to say, and instead took Brendon’s face in his hands to kiss him. He seemed to take control of his body in the way that Brendon loved, a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in close. Their lips melting together in the heat without another word.

Brendon tilted his head up wantonly and leaned closer, begging for more as their bodies pressed flush up against each other, scrambling for some purchase as Dallon guided him to the counter for some stability. He held onto Dallon’s arms and Dallon bit hungrily at his lips as if to claim him. Brendon loved being his. He bit Brendon’s bottom lip and hot arousal stirred in his abdomen.

Dallon’s mouth pushed against his and he pulled him toward the counter. Brendon’s back hit it hard and pain shot up his spine but he absorbed it, breathing heavy against Dallon’s lips as his hands slid up and down Brendon’s sides. Lips fused together messily, carelessly, and suddenly Dallon couldn’t get Brendon’s shirt off fast enough. They only broke their kiss so Dallon could pull it off over Brendon’s head.

Dallon’s bare skin was burning hot against Brendon’s fingers, slick with sweat, and Brendon trailed his hands up his spine with his nails, leaving red lines in his wake. With reckless abandon, Dallon gripped Brendon’s waist and picked him up as if he were weightless, hoisting him onto the counter and forcing his thighs open. Brendon threw his head back and moaned needily out loud into the heat of the room when Dallon leaned down to trail kisses down his neck, pushing a hand into his hair to hold his head back. He tugged at it desperately while Brendon ran his hands over every inch of sweat soaked skin on Dallon’s body.

His thighs tightened and his skin flushed red with want, Dallon’s fingertips leaving dots of white heat on his sides as he sucked a bruise into his collarbone. He muttered something against him, sweet words getting lost in the heat of his skin, and reached up to fist his hair, pulling his head back roughly.

Brendon groaned when Dallon bit at his neck, so desperate, as he reached out to cup his jaw. “C’mere.” He whispered, pulling him back to kiss him. He gripped Brendon’s waist so hard they would leave bruises in the shape of fingerprints and Brendon’s hands flew to Dallon’s hips, trying to tug his pants down. He couldn’t seem to convince his hands to quit touching him long enough to get them off.

“Fuck.” Dallon breathed, hard against him, their bodies burning hot. Brendon trembled with want and Dallon began to unbutton his jeans, unzipped them quick, and tugged them down his thighs.

“Dal. Dallon.” Brendon moaned, jutting his hips up for more friction. Dallon’s hands ran all over his thighs, sensitive at the touch, making Brendon squirm. Desperate for any kind of touch. Dallon was about to drop to his knees, and-

“Dallon.” His mother’s voice called from the hallway, sudden and unexpected. Dallon jolted away from Brendon and in a panic Brendon pulled his jeans back up, accidentally leaving them unbuttoned as he placed his fingertips against his lips, red and raw and moist with the remnants of Dallon’s tongue. The door opened and she closed it behind her, cautious of the rules.

“So, you just kind of put them in there for about two minutes.” Dallon faked conversation as Brendon hid his lap, crossing one leg over the other and feigning interest. “Hey.” He greeted his mom when she nodded a head at him, pretending he hadn’t noticed her come in. “What’s up?”

“Hey, I’m leaving now, I left some money on the kitchen counter so you can order food.” She fanned herself with her hand and the two exchanged looks; they needed to learn how not to get caught. “It’s really hot in here, Dals. You’re gonna suffocate.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m gonna get a fan.” He brushed it off, leaning against the wall to hide the scratches on his back. It was a close call. In the following year, they would become good at close calls. “Thank you for the money, mom. Have fun today.”

“I will, baby. And you’re welcome. Have a good day.” She blew them both kisses and went to let herself out. “I’ll see you tonight. Bye babies.” She added, and slipped out of the room after Dallon said goodbye.

Dallon turned to look at him and Brendon covered his face with his hand, humiliated at the prospect of getting caught. He always told himself he’d be more careful. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, listening to her footsteps walk away.

Brendon shook his head as he buttoned his jeans again, having lost their momentum and the adrenaline that made it worth it. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to attack you like that. I literally just came here to hang out. That wasn’t a euphemism.”

“I know, it’s okay.” Dallon laughed quietly, crossing his arms, self-conscious now that they’d been exposed. “We probably shouldn’t...”

“Yeah, s’kinda weird now,” Brendon agreed, sketched through a laugh, as he climbed off of the counter. He didn’t know what had gotten into him lately. He was just needy, was all, looking for something to make him feel. He had a lot of time to make up for, thinking about sex. It had become a second nature since they’d been together. He used to see sex as some untouchable bond, something to be scared of, but things were different now. He didn’t mind so much when he was opening up and exposing himself to Dallon as long as he was too. “Okay. I gotta get out of this heat. I think it’s making me delirious.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna finish this later. Okay.” They laughed in unison and he led Brendon out of the room and back into the air-conditioned apartment. Gentle, much gentler compared to the way he had just shoved him around like it was nothing.

He turned to smile at him, at the way they could flip switches like that. Respect each other, but also get to know what they wanted. Once upon a time he was unsure of sex, whether it was right for him, whether he should wait. If being vulnerable with someone was worth the price of maybe losing them one day, or if it was just as scary to be with them forever.

“Can I borrow a shirt? I’m kinda sweaty.” Brendon laughed as they ducked into Dallon’s room, shaking his arms and trying to cool down.

“Sure. Go for it.” He shrugged a shoulder so Brendon took off his jeans, sticking to his skin with sweat. He needed to get around to buying more shorts. He grabbed a plain white button-up from Dallon’s chair and put it on instead, the fabric cool on his skin, as Dallon went to twist the air conditioning up. “You look good in my clothes.” He observed, looking at him from the window.

“Shut up.” He giggled, never very good at accepting compliments. But Dallon smiled, biting his tongue when he saw him blush. He liked that he could get to him. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna get some water.” Dallon only nodded, and Brendon slipped out of the room again.

Wandering aimlessly down the hall, he glanced up from his feet padding across the wood floors to look up at the wall of picture frames. A million times had he walked down that hall, a million times he’d seen those photos, but only now did he really look at them. Family photos, Dallon’s old school photos, but one in the center caught his eye: a perfect, clean shot of his father.

He’d seen the picture before but he never really... saw it. Passed it, glanced at it, sure. But he never stopped to examine it. Dallon was a perfect mix between his mother and father, just as he should be. Their miracle baby. A real miracle, Brendon would say. All of his features were a mix of theirs, his mother’s smile and their blue eyes. When he was younger he looked more like his dad, but with age he started to look a little more like his mother. Brendon could see her in him sometimes.

But like he’d told him once, they looked alike. A lot alike. There was an incredible resemblance, he could see it in the shape of his nose and the dimples in his cheeks. The way his lips tilted upward and the little crinkles in the corner of his eye when he smiled. He could tell by the photos on the wall that they were family.

“I took that one,” Dallon’s voice came suddenly from behind Brendon. Brendon smiled when Dallon reached over his shoulder to point at the photo Brendon was looking at. He hadn’t heard him come down the hall.

“It’s nice.” It was. It was clear, like it had been taken on a good camera, and the sun was shining from somewhere behind him, illuminating the scene. It seemed ironic now, in a sad way. But behind him, Dallon was smiling, and he wrapped his arms around Brendon’s waist as his chin found a place on his shoulder. “Sorry, I got distracted.”

“S’okay. I stop to look at them sometimes too.” He kissed the side of his neck, his smile pressing against warm skin. “He was teaching me how to use a real camera that day. I was twelve, maybe. I used to go through phases where I wanted to learn a certain thing because I thought every art form was incredible. I’m still like that. He was an artist too, so he taught me everything I wanted to know. Oil paints, developing film, digital stuff, there was a lot but he was really patient with me. The, uh, the last thing I wanted to learn was how to do sculptures with clay. I never did.”

“You should learn now,” Brendon suggested, voice soft as he looked at the photos on the wall.

“Maybe I will.” He could feel Dallon’s breath on his neck. “I’m glad I was always so curious though. It helped me out in the long run.”

Brendon turned his head to look at him, eyes oscillating to search Dallon’s like something underlying needed to be found. Did it? “He would be proud of you.”

And he meant it. Beyond the talent and the big heart and the crazy, burning passion that that boy had for everything he did, he was strong. Dallon was strong. Dealing with loss in such a way that made it sound new every time he spoke about it, a knife twisting in the wound, opening up stitches that should have long ago been removed. But he was okay with that. He was. Moving on was never simple. Forgetting was long.

“Thanks.” He tightened his arms around him and smiled against his shoulder. “I think so too.”

Fearless. Living in spite of all the times the world tried to knock you down. It was a good word. Brendon thought of it a lot. When he saw those videos of people running on the edges of tall buildings or when people hang glided over rocky mountains and rushing water, those people had to be fearless because how else did they do it? Pushing it to the edge, risking your life for that adrenaline rush, to take the high dive off of a cliff and toward potential ruins, that was fearless. Talking about old wounds like they were brand new was fearless too.

The world was twisted. People fell out of love, said goodbye and walked away, but at the same moment others were falling in love and making promises to each other that at the time they plan to keep. In some worlds, some were kept from their loved ones, an unfair divide, and there were people who had to fight for wars they didn’t believe in. In hospitals around the world, people stood there and waited for new life with smiles on their faces and balloons and gifts but in the ward downstairs, others were getting the bad news. In hospitals around the world, people were dying. In a hospital in Boulder City, Nevada, people had died.

And he stood there, talking about his past, holding his future, and Brendon was reminded just how brave this boy was.

And right there in the middle of the hall, Brendon fell in love again.


	24. Chapter 23: How to Be Free

Mark Weekes met Leann Hooper on a rainy day in April, when she showed up where he worked at a cafe in Salt Lake City. She had the intention only of getting breakfast before work, but she left with something else that day: the infatuation of a man that she would marry three years later, little did she know. But he was smitten, and he pursued her, and only after months did she finally agree to go on a date with him. Decades later, it was one of the best decisions she'd ever made.

They shared a romance that everybody looked up to. They fell in love fast and hard, the way their son would one day, their adoration for one another never faltering. He proposed on a warm day by a private lake, their lake, and they married at an intimate wedding with their friends and family in Henderson, Nevada, after having moved into a small apartment together a few months prior. The apartment was small enough for them but big enough for another, if they wanted. And they did.

Their dream was children. Lots of them. They tried for a year before Leann agreed to check if something was wrong. And it was, and they cried. It was near impossible for them to have a baby. But still they tried, Leann was determined and she wanted a child. A son in particular. And they thought it was a moot point until one day in September, when morning sickness and three pregnancy tests revealed that they were having a baby. A miracle.

Dallon Weekes was born in a hospital in Missouri on a trip visiting family. Two weeks before the due date, he did not want to wait to enter the world. Too much to do, too much to see. At nine fifty-one a.m., a beautiful boy was brought into the world, and he didn't cry. He just looked around, amazed, with blonde hair and what could constitute as a smile if his parents didn't know better. They named him Dallon, a unique name for a unique baby.

Dallon grew up to be something outstanding. With a passion for what he did and a penchant to do just what he wanted, he was a force to be reckoned with. He had his father's eyes and his mother's ambition, and he went after what he wanted. That was always one of the most incredible things about him. So fast forward fifteen years, and he decided then that what he wanted was Brendon Urie. And much like his father had with his mother, he pursued Brendon until he had him right where he wanted him.

Dallon had experienced loss in a way that a young boy should not have to endure. But he got through it like he got through everything else. At just fifteen years old, he was practically resilient. So when he fell in love with the boy he was so infatuated by just two and a half years later, he shook it off and took what life was throwing at him, just as he was taught to do. He just wasn't expecting to fall so hard.

But Brendon was a boy with fire in his eyes and a heart that Dallon had gotten to know well. His parents had a relationship that he idolized all his life until he found a love of his own. And he did. Dallon had waited all his life to experience a love like theirs, but it took him a while to realize that he couldn't replicate it precisely. Then, he decided he wanted a love they haven't thought of yet. What they had was something beautiful, and Brendon was a miracle of his own kind.

* * *

Dally: she just got home

Bumblebee: ask her!

Dally: she literally just walked through the door

Bumblebee: I’m not getting any younger dal ask her!!!!!!!

Dally: ok fine

Dally: standby!

Dallon locked his phone and cleared his throat as he wandered into the kitchen, making his mother look up from the groceries. “Hi, babe.” She greeted, busy putting things away. “Will you help me out?”

“Yeah.” He agreed, anything to get on her good side, and went to dig through the grocery bags. “So, I’ve actually been meaning to ask you something.” He added after a minute, and she gave him a look as if to say she knew his help would come at a price. He was an only child. He tended to ask for a lot without realizing it. “Brendon and I have been talking. And we’ve gotten really close lately, and I wanted to see if it would be okay with you if he came with us when we go to Salt Lake. He asked his parents if in theory they would let him go and they said yes. I wouldn’t be asking you if they weren’t okay with it too, but I don’t wanna be without him for the whole week and you know that I’m trustworthy. We’re trustworthy. And I’m responsible, and I love him, and I want to spend some time with him. I promise we won’t do anything, not that we-“

She interrupted with a sigh, and he shut up immediately. “I know you're having sex, Dallon." She admitted, and he paused, letting the fridge fall shut behind him. They had been careful. There was no way she could possibly know that.

“How— how do you-“

“I just know. You know when your kid is having sex.“ She gestured to him and he felt exposed, folding his arms over his chest. “I was suspecting it, and then I went in your room to borrow one of your extra phone chargers and I found an open box of condoms in your drawer. I didn’t count them or anything, but-“

“We only did it once.” He interrupted, mortified, as if telling her the number would make anything better.

“I’m okay with it.” She assured him, and he let out a breath of relief. “You’re an adult. You’re eighteen. You can make your own decisions. I just want to make sure that it’s consensual on both ends and that you’re doing it for the right reasons.”

“We are. It is.” He promised, nodding too much. “We talked about it a lot before we did it. We wouldn’t have if we both didn’t make sure that it was the right thing for us. I love him. I’m respectful of him. And he’s respectful of me.”

She pursed her lips in thought and he stared at her hopefully, praying he was still as good at getting what he wanted as he used to be. It was always his dad who caved. Never his mom. “This is a family vacation, Dallon. Are you sure?” She asked, clearly skeptical.

“I’m positive, mom. Please?” He begged, putting his hands together in prayer, and was about to get on his knees before she sighed and then nodded. “Yeah?”

“Yes. But I don’t want any funny business on this trip.” She added sternly when he pulled her into a hug. “And I want to talk to his parents before we commit to this.”

“Yes, okay, anything. Thank you.” He pulled away, beaming back at her. “I’m gonna go call him and tell him.”

“Dallon.” She interrupted, and he turned to look at her as he headed toward his room, eager to make their plans. “Groceries.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He smiled sheepishly and rushed back in to put everything else away, grinning to himself.

* * *

Brendon slept on and off on the ride to Salt Lake City. He had never been to Utah and never thought he would go, but it was a good opportunity. A family vacation with Dallon and his mother, staying in Dallon’s aunt’s vacation home as Dallon did each summer. This summer, he just didn’t want to go away for a week without Brendon.

“We’re here,” Dallon whispered gently when the car came to a lull. He stirred for a moment, groggy after a nap, and looked around to see mountains lining the sky and a little blue house sitting in front of them. He blinked, realizing that he wasn’t home, and followed as Dallon climbed out of the car. “C’mon.” He added once he had a few bags in hand. “I’ll give you the tour.”

Brendon followed him up the stairs with his suitcase and looked around, surprised already at how nice the house was. Pristine walls and a fireplace in the living room, big windows and a backyard with a patio and a grill. Dallon showed him around the kitchen and living room, so clean that he would have assumed it had never been lived in, and then led him up the stairs and into their room for the week.

“I can’t believe your mom trusts us to sleep in our own room together, down the hall from hers.” Brendon mused, looking around the room and setting his bag down on the king-sized bed. He went to peek at the view of the mountains from the window, different than the ones back home. Bluer, almost. “She must really like me.”

“She does.” Dallon sat down on the edge of the bed and Brendon turned to look at him, smiling. “And it’s better than you sleeping on the couch. She made me promise not to sleep with you here, though. So she doesn’t trust us completely. I assume I should be a good son and keep my promise.”

“Yeah, you probably should.” Brendon crossed the room to sit beside him, reaching out for his hand. “I’m looking forward to the next week.”

“I am too, Urie.” He turned to bump their noses together, a smile on his lips, and kissed him slowly since it had been forever. Brendon kissed him too, inexplicably happy, and when Dallon pulled away Brendon rested a head on his shoulder, still sleepy from the ride. “I’m happy you’re here,” Dallon added as if it were a second thought, his cheek against the top of Brendon’s head.

Brendon took in a deep breath as he nodded gently, realizing the milestones they were making and how he wasn’t as scared as he thought he’d be. “I’m happy I’m here too.” He agreed, and they sat in comfortable silence, as they didn’t seem to want to part.

* * *

“So, let me get this straight. You can’t actually swim in the actual Salt Lake?”

Dallon rolled his eyes with a laugh as Brendon sunk down to his shoulders in the water. “No. It’s, like— it has a really high salt concentration or whatever so it feels gross to touch. This lake is one I used to go to as a kid. Totally unsalted.”

“Hm.” Brendon looked around, squinting past the sun as it shone bright on his face. He never pictured Utah looking like this. So beautiful, with its sweet air and mountains and sunshine. It felt happy. “D’you think lake monsters are real?” He asked after a minute, watching Dallon stand a little ways away with his hands on his hips.

“Uh-huh. Definitely.” He looked down at Brendon and smirked suggestively. “You know, legend has it that there’s a monster in this very lake. Hiding somewhere in the weeds, just a little farther out than where you are.” He pointed a finger toward Brendon and the boy turned around to look at the rippling water behind him.

“You’re making that up,” Brendon accused, turning and inching his way toward him in the water, away from the weeds. Just in case.

“Yeah, I know. But you were scared.” Dallon shrugged like Brendon was too easy to trick and followed him with his eyes.

Brendon smiled menacingly and growled as he reached out for Dallon’s waist, tugging him underwater and giggling to himself at the splash. Dallon laughed when he appeared above the small waves that they had created, pushing wet hair out of his eyes. Brendon hovered around him, paddling idly with his hands.

“What about you? Believe in lake monsters, little Urie?” He asked, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Sure do.” He stood up and brought both hands up to slick his hair back, looking up at the plane flying somewhere in the distance, past Dallon and the mountains he could see behind him. “All that lochness shit is too real to be made up, you know? I mean, I get that there are a lot of conspiracies but I like to think that they’re real. It makes the world a little more interesting. All that fun stuff makes life worth living. Not to mention the fact that it offers a little bit of edge. I mean, what’s fun about swimming if I’m not half scared that a lake monster is gonna grab me and devour me?”

“Good thing ol’ Nessie is in Scotland. She won’t getcha. I might, though, but what can I say? You taste good.” Dallon moved closer and adrenaline buzzed in Brendon’s veins when he grabbed his face to kiss him, leaving a smile in his wake. The sun beat down on his shoulders, slippery from the sunscreen his mother had forced him to bring, the smell of coconut lingering on his skin.

Just as he was leaning in the kiss him again Dallon pulled him underwater and Brendon gasped, smacking his arm when he came up for air. “Don’t scare me like that!” Brendon scolded, wiping the water from his face. Only half joking, as he wouldn’t admit it but the myths really did scare him. “You’re mean.”

“Come on, there’s no actual lake monster, babe. No need to be scared.” He wrapped an arm around Brendon’s neck and grinned despite his pout. His heart pounded; reading about lake myths before bed the night before wasn’t a smart idea. “You’re precious.”

He poked him in the chest accusingly. “I bet a lake monster wouldn’t wanna eat me, anyway. I’m too short, I wouldn’t be very filling. You, on the other hand...”

“Haha.” Dallon pressed a kiss to his mouth and only pulled away to offer him a smile, slipping his hand into Brendon’s and tugging him toward the grass. “C’mon. Sorry for scaring you. Wanna eat?”

“Yeah.” Brendon followed him out of the water to where their towels were laid out on the grass. He looked back at Dallon, his eyes smiling, and he added, “I wasn’t scared.”

“Yes you were, just admit it.” Dallon teased him as they stepped back onto the sand, out of the water where a lake monster could be waiting to eat him.

“No I wasn’t, you ghoul.” Brendon shoved him and scurried off to their spot, peeking over his shoulder with a laugh. Dallon laughed too, following him across the grass, and basked in the sunshine and his good decision.

* * *

Brendon Urie had established a goal years ago: to find himself. And a few times he thought he’d found it, or thought that maybe he could, but there was always something missing. Some feeling of being complete. Like he needed to fulfill a piece of him. He never knew where to look for that.

One night they drove forty-five minutes down to Provo to see an open mic performance, having found the place by accident when he was searching for things to do. And that night, on the road back to Salt Lake City, Brendon rolled down his window and music played loud out of the speakers, a song that always made him happy when he heard it, and he felt some semblance of peace and content and felt like himself. He hung his arm out the window and stared up at the night sky, breathing in the fresh air and letting the wind whip his hair around. He didn’t care. He just closed his eyes and let himself feel.

It was the most like himself he’d felt in a really, really long time.

He had a glow and the light of freedom on his face, and for a solitary moment he stuck his hand out the window and let his hand move freely against the waves of the wind to the rhythm of Dallon’s voice. He sang loud, strong, and Brendon’s eyes were closed but he could hear his smile. He felt delirious. Euphoric. Invincible. Like nothing could hurt him. Like he could think back to this moment any time anything wrong happened and he would be happy, because he knew that he had felt true freedom. True happiness. He wondered if that was what he had been looking for all along.

On that night, he learned how to be free. He didn’t learn until months later that happiness was a fleeting thing, and not a destination.

In the morning Brendon rolled over in bed, squinting with the sunlight reflecting off the bright white walls. The other side of the bed was cool, Dallon nowhere to be found. He got up with a grunt, his bones still tired, and looked around the room before he realized where he was.

He padded down the stairs with his bare feet and explored the house for a moment before he found himself at the back foot, overlooking the yard where Dallon was checking on the garden. “What are you doing?” Brendon called through the open door, leaning against the doorframe idly. Dallon turned to look at him from across the yard, surprised by his presence.

“Turning on the sprinklers,” Dallon called back, shielding his eyes from the sun. “It’s hot. The grass needs to be fed.”

“I need to be fed,” Brendon retorted, and Dallon gave him a look. “Are we goin’ out for breakfast? You said we could go to that place we drove by last night and I’m starving.”

“I mean, it’s almost eleven thirty, so it’s hardly breakfast, but yeah. I’ll ask my mom if I can take the car.” He started across the lawn and Brendon watched him walk through the sprinklers, soaking gray sweatpants and clinging to his skin, warm from the sun.

“You’re getting soaked,” Brendon pointed out as if he couldn’t see it.

“I’m gonna shower anyway. And it’s hot out. It feels nice. C’mon.” He extended his hands for Brendon but he put his hands up, denying the offer. “Come on! Don’t be such a wuss.”

Brendon tsked, feigning being offended. “Who are you calling a wuss?” He asked, but knew Dallon was always going to try and get him out of his comfort zone.

He chased Dallon through the sprinklers and they laughed in unison when he caught him, making Dallon turn to capture his waist instead. Brendon laughed, blissfully flushed with adrenaline, and Dallon kicked his ankle swiftly before they both fell to the ground.

“It’s all muddy.” Brendon laughed when Dallon pinned him down against the grass, leaning down to kiss him hard. Water sliding down their skin, glistening in the sunlight and wetting their lips as they kissed. White tee shirts sticking to their skin, cheeks red and a rainbow somewhere in their peripheral vision as the sunlight hit. “Can we go eat now, dork?”

“Yes, sir.” Dallon brushed their lips together once more and got up before Brendon was ready. He extended a hand, though, and Brendon let him help him up, sighing from deep in his chest. He didn’t want this to end. Any of it.

That evening Brendon sat across from him on the couch, a fire roaring in the fireplace, socked feet bumping against one another’s as they told each other about themselves. It was late, almost one in the morning, and their voices were hushed as they spoke.

“Tell me something you’ve never told me before,” Dallon requested, piercing blue eyes bright in the light of the fire.

Brendon thumbed at his bottom lip thoughtfully, wondering how Dallon was so good at tricking him. Getting him to open up when he had made it clear that he was no good at that. “I’ve been to therapy before.” He admitted after a minute, realizing that that had never come up.

Dallon quirked an eyebrow at him, not disbelief but not quite believing. Brendon could hardly blame him, though. He wasn’t really a person who liked to accept help. “No kidding?” Brendon nodded the affirmative. “When was that? Is there a reason you never mentioned it?”

“Um, it was when I was twelve. You know how I used to be really scared and anxious all the time?” Dallon nodded, recalling the old conversations they’d had long before they were together. A different life, starring different actors as themselves. "Yeah. Um. That was when I was at my worst. I had just turned twelve a couple of days before and I remember on my birthday I got so scared of basically nothing that I got into bed with my parents. And they knew something was wrong, you know?"

Dallon nodded again, searching Brendon's eyes like he was looking for a past that was already long gone. "Why were you so scared?"

"That's the thing, Dal, none of us could figure it out. It's like one day I woke up and I was fucking terrified. I cried at everything. And this started when I was like, seven. It was before I knew Tyler so I had no one. I just felt so threatened by everyone and it had gotten to the point where I was even afraid to talk to my family. And Tyler made me feel comfortable, so I only really talked to him. But there was a point where I couldn't, and he was patient with me but we didn't talk for a little while, I was eleven and I wouldn't even leave the house. My parents had to beg me to go to school."

Dallon tilted his head to the side, hanging on to every word he said. "Oh, wow."

"Yeah." Brendon laughed a little, reminiscing. “Yeah, it was bad. And then I turned twelve, and they were really worried about me. And they took me to see a psychologist, they actually thought that I was on the autism spectrum because of how I didn't really talk or show emotion. But I wasn't, you know? I was just scared. And my mom was so fucking defiant, Dallon. She just stood up and told the doctor off and we left, and she promised me she would find out what was wrong. After that my parents decided that I needed to work my shit out with someone who could potentially help. So I started therapy. And during the first session I was so scared and stubborn that I just sat there in silence for an hour. I wouldn't talk. And after that she kind of made me open up, but I was never comfortable. I hated it. And I told Tyler everything I didn't want to tell her, I actually trusted him and he understood and I didn't want someone to try and fix me. It was just who I was. But this one thing she said to me stuck. She said that you can’t get better if you don’t accept help. So I kept going. And the summer going into freshman year I stopped, my parents decided that maybe the new environment would be better after everything we had tried. And I was on and off after that, still kind of scared but not having panic attacks every day."

Dallon's eyes softened when Brendon's flickered up to meet his. "So you're okay now?"

"Yeah, I am." He bumped his fist against Dallon's playfully. "I wasn’t, like, hiding it from you. I just never really thought of the right time to mention it. It doesn’t feel like something you just blurt out.”

“I get that. And I don’t blame you. I’ve had a few sessions too, but it never really helped me. I was never willing to share my secrets with someone I didn’t know. I guess it just depends on who you are.”

“You’re probably right.” Brendon reached out to nudge Dallon’s knee. “What about you? Tell me a secret.”

Dallon let his head tilt to the side in thought. “Damn. I don’t know. Um...” He worried his bottom lip in his teeth. “While we're on the subject of therapy, I guess, I went a few times after my dad died. And I hated my therapist. Like, I hated her. And she tried so hard to get into my life and I wouldn’t let her. She didn't deserve to know anything about me. I used to snap at her. And she knew about you, too. I told her all about the boy I liked and how you didn't know who I was and how you'd never like somebody like me."

Brendon half smiled; it seemed like so long ago. "I knew who you were."

"I know." Dallon leaned in a little closer, urging a giggle when he bumped their noses together. "And she told me that I had to figure myself out before I started thinking about boys. And I told her that it was really none of her business. Just... for a therapist, she was more critical than she was helpful. I gave her a terrible review, too." He sat back, smiling unseeingly upward like he was reminiscing the moment he hit send on the message. "Yeah, she deserved it. She snapped right back at me."

"Oh, god." Brendon laughed, and Dallon laughed back, because it was so long ago. Things were so different then. Brendon smiled, reached up to touch Dallon's chin softly with his fingertips. "I love knowing about your past. I wanna know more about it. Everything about it. Like the basic stuff that we don’t know about each other. The things that couples should know. Tell me more. Tell me another secret.”

“Um...” Dallon shifted his weight pensively; there was a lot he hadn’t told him. "When I was in sixth grade, I played Romeo in Romeo and Juliet at school." He admitted, and Brendon covered his mouth to muffle his laughter. "I know. I know, it doesn't seem like something I would do. And I would seriously never do it again. I just thought it would be a good way to integrate in a new school."

"Was it?"

"Nope, the people there still hated me." They laughed in unison, and Brendon beamed up at him.

"Tell me something else." He requested, insatiable for knowledge about the boy he was falling in love with.

"Hm." He shifted again, trying to think of something not too incriminating. “I have a fake ID.” He told him after a moment, biting his lip like he was expecting a reaction.

“What?” Brendon sat up and Dallon shushed him with a laugh, he didn’t want to wake his mom. “Dallon Weekes, no you do not.”

“I do! I used it once when I was fifteen and then never again. Ryan’s older brother got it for me after my dad died.” He bumped Brendon’s foot with his own, smiling at the amusement in his eyes. “It’s in the back of my desk. It reminds me of, like, a really bad time in my life. I haven’t touched it in forever.”

“Good. That’s so illegal, Dallon.” He giggled, shoving Dallon’s knee. He guessed he really did have a lot to learn about him. “So, hey, I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s up with Ryan’s brother, anyway? What’s his deal? They get along? You guys are friends?”

Dallon tilted his head fondly; Brendon asked a lot of questions. He liked to know everything. It was charming. It made him think. “Yeah. I grew up with him too. He was like, the older brother I never had. He goes to college in Arizona so I don’t see him much anymore.”

“Arizona?” Dallon nodded wordlessly, shifting to rest his elbow against the back of the couch. “That’s far. Far for me, anyway. I would be terrified to be that far from home.”

“Me neither. I don’t know. I’m too attached to this place.” He rested his cheek in his hand, realizing they’d never talked about the topic before. They had been living in daydreams for months, pretending the outside world didn’t exist. “Do you wanna go to college?”

“Yeah, I think so. I just don’t know what for exactly. Y’know, majoring and whatever. I guess I have time to figure that out.” He shrugged, playing with his hands. He didn’t like to think about it. College. The future. “What about you? I know you wanna go to art school, but did you ever have any other plans?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. I had this period of time after everything that happened where I had no energy to do art so I thought that maybe I shouldn’t go to art school if I can’t work through the pain. I considered a lot of different things. I thought about majoring in poetry, not sure what kind of job that would get me, or doing creative writing and learning how to manifest my anger in stories. Maybe write a book or something. And I thought about joining the military for a while too, thought it might give me a sense of purpose and some structure, but I don’t even really support war and anyway, I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have depression and I’m on medication.” He shrugged, and Brendon’s eyes softened. He didn’t know that was a rule. That it was so constricting. “Either way, I was just angsty and sad and whatever. I didn’t even really wanna do it. And I was like, fifteen when I had that idea. So I would’ve had to wait three years to enlist. It was a stupid idea. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He looked away, as if shaming himself for the idea. Brendon didn’t think it was stupid; things like that existed for people to find themselves. To have options. Whether he believed in war or not, there were a million reasons someone would want to do it. If he wasn’t so scared, he was sure he would try to find himself in a war zone too.

“Well, for the record, I’m glad you didn’t enlist. I kinda like having you around.” He offered, smiling softly as if it were actually a confession.

“I’m glad I’m around too.” He bumped his fist against Brendon’s knee, smiling back at him in understanding. Meaning more than he said, unsure of whether or not he knew. “Okay. Tell me something embarrassing.” He requested, changing the subject from his own complicated past, and Brendon’s lips automatically went into a pout. There were a lot of embarrassing things he could tell him. The boy was made of embarrassment.

“Okay. So, uh.” He shifted awkwardly in his seat and their feet bumped together accidentally. “I was kind of never planning on telling anyone this, but I didn’t hit puberty until I was almost sixteen. I had this weird developmental delay when I was a baby so the doctors think it had something to do with that, but I’m not sure. My physical development was always really late.”

Dallon smiled fondly at the story, not expecting that, and rested his head against his fist. “You were fifteen?” He asked, more amused than teasing.

Brendon kicked his leg swiftly, making Dallon cover his mouth to muffle a laugh. “Yeah. It was hell, Dallon. It was so embarrassing. I didn’t know anything and I was too awkward to talk to my family about it so I had no idea what to do. And because I was the youngest and there were just so many reasons to make fun of me, my brothers always teased me for it. I mean, it’s a sibling thing. I’m not mad at them. They never meant any harm.”

“Still. That’s not very nice.”

“Well, they’ve gotten a lot better. They don’t act that way anymore. Not really, anyway. But that’s not the point. Point is, I went through puberty late. And it was gross and awkward and I was terrified because I was just coming to terms with being gay so it was doubly awkward. I was questioning whether I was even gay, cause I know it’s normal to question your sexuality during that time, and I was scared to even look at another boy in the locker room. I felt like I was violating their privacy, or something.”

“I totally get that. I felt the same way.”

Brendon smiled, knew that he would. “What about you? Tell me your embarrassing coming of age story.”

Dallon stalled for a second before he let out a quiet laugh, teasing himself at the memory. “I was twelve, I think. I was sitting in math class and I was daydreaming, obviously, and I also happened to be looking at this boy that sat across the room from me. For a twelve-year-old, he was cute, y’know? And I didn’t know I liked boys yet, but I was spacing out and I wasn’t paying attention until it happened. And after that I started having very vivid dreams and thinking about guys frequently when I... y’know. And then I was like, maybe I’m not straight. Straight boys don’t think about other boys when they come.”

“Dallon!” Brendon kicked him again, and they both burst out laughing, forgetting briefly that they had to be quiet. “Okay. Simple enough. So, what about the first crush? You told me that you liked someone before high school. When things started to, like, get serious. Will you... tell me who that is?"

Dallon shook his head apologetically and Brendon furrowed his eyebrows, not expecting a rejection. "It complicates things, Bren. I think maybe one day I'll tell you, but it's not important. What's important is us. And that you listen to me, and... you remembered that."

"I remember everything you say. And, I mean, I can respect that. Not wanting to tell me. It's none of my business." He reached out to touch Dallon's hand gently, respected him because he had to. "But you do owe me this." He proposed, and Dallon's eyebrow went up in an arch. "You said you started having feelings for someone when you went into high school. Were you, um... were you talking about me?"

Dallon nodded silently and Brendon smiled, had been meaning to ask for months but never found the courage in the light of day. “Yeah, I was talking about you. I mean, I thought boys were cute all the time and stuff, and the summer before high school I was angry and sad and confused. I didn't know what I was feeling, why I was feeling it, and... I kind of regretted coming out at the time. Thought I wasn't valid because what I was feeling could have just been this stupid desire for attention from someone who cared about me. Like... I needed somebody to cling to after my dad died. And that was somebody I was close to, who I thought had the potential of liking me back. And he didn't. And, I mean, I was angry about it. I thought I was, like, unlovable. I was so full of resentment. Liking you was different. It was like this pure attraction. And it made me feel valid, like my liking you because of you and not because I needed somebody meant that it was a reality. I mean, I said that nothing ever happened, because it didn’t then. I never thought that you and I...” He gestured between them. "I never thought we would become this."

“I never thought we would become this either,” Brendon admitted, reaching out to take his hand, admiring his features illuminated by the fire in the fireplace. Dallon tugged him over and Brendon shifted to his side, curling up beside him. He had nothing left to say. He just rested his head on his shoulder, letting the fire warm his skin.

He felt safe. Loved. He never wanted to leave.

* * *

“So... whose house is this?”

Brendon stood awkwardly in front of a little house with a garden out front, a ways away from where they were staying. Dallon told him he had someone he wanted Brendon to meet before they left Salt Lake and Brendon’s first thought was an unmentioned hometown boyfriend or a secret child, but then again he wasn’t really sure.

“C’mon. You’ll see.” Dallon tugged him toward the door so Brendon followed him, heart pounding though he didn’t know what for. He just didn’t like surprises. They always made him anxious.

He stood at Dallon’s side as he pressed the doorbell and waited only for a moment before the door opened. “Dallon.” An elderly woman greeted, pulling him into a hug, and then again, it wasn’t the surprise he was expecting. “I’ve seen your mother so many times this week, I was wondering when you’d come visit.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been busy. But I want you to meet someone really important.” Dallon stepped back, beaming, and set a steady hand on Brendon’s back. “This is my boyfriend Brendon. Bren, this is my grandma.”

“Oh.” Brendon’s eyebrows went up in an arch and he forgot to hide his surprise, but reached out to shake her hand. “Wow. Hi.”

“Brendon. I’ve heard so much about you.” She pulled him into a hug and he wasn’t expecting it but he hugged her back, in shock. He could see the family resemblance. Dallon’s mother’s smile. Dallon’s, too. “Dallon talks so fondly of you. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Come in. I have cookies. Come.” She led them into her house and Dallon guided Brendon in, holding a hand in between his shoulder blades.

Brendon took a seat on the upholstered sofa in the little living room as Dallon helped his grandmother gather the cookies from the kitchen. He looked around, at the photos up on the mantle of her brick fireplace, examining the photos of Dallon. Mostly as a little kid, but there were some recent ones too. Brendon liked to see his progression. He stood up to approach them, his socked feet stepping across the carpet silently, and picked up a frame of Dallon’s family, a few years younger. A happy family.

“That was five years ago.” Dallon’s voice said suddenly. Brendon jumped in surprise and turned to see him placing a ceramic plate on the coffee table, and as he put a hand to his heart to feel it skip, Dallon smiled.

“You scared me,” Brendon said dumbly. Dallon looked different now than he did five years ago. A fuller face, a more fitting haircut, and a sharper jawline left him much more handsome than he was at thirteen. He was just a kid, though. Just a kid before he had to endure all the pain that the world had set out for him.

“Sorry.” Dallon apologized sweetly and held out a hand for him. Brendon offered a smile of his own and went to join him back on the couch.

It took a total of twelve seconds for Brendon to establish that he loved Dallon’s grandmother. She insisted he eat her cookies and told stories of Dallon as a child, shushing him whenever he tried to interrupt. “You want to hear it, don’t you, Brendon?” She asked, and Brendon nodded fervently as he reached out to snatch a flustered Dallon’s hand.

“I do. So what about Dallon learning how to ride a bike?”

Dallon may had learned a lot about Brendon that summer, but Brendon learned a lot about Dallon too. He liked to keep people at arm’s length. Brendon liked to seek out the answers to things he wanted to know. Sometimes they clashed in that regard, but everything happened for a reason.

Dallon’s grandmother thumbed through baby pictures and when Dallon tried to wrestle them away from Brendon, he captured his hands and tucked them in between his thighs. “He was such a beautiful baby. He still is. You grew up fast, though. Look at you.”

“Oh, I’m not all that grown up. I still eat fruit snacks.”

“So do I.” She retorted, and Brendon smiled downward to himself as he thumbed through the photo albums.

Dallon really was cute, having been a child with floppy dirty blonde hair that had long since darkened and big eyes he’d grown into years later. Always a little lanky, having awkward stages where his features didn’t fit and his legs were too long, and he wobbled around like a baby deer being taught how to walk. He'd grown out of that, now, having become less clumsy and more fitting to his features.

Dallon offered to wash the dishes while Brendon stayed put in the living room, sitting across from his boyfriend’s grandmother. The running water of the faucet was just background noise as Brendon sat awkwardly, trying to think of what to say as she looked him over. Examined him. Trying to see if he was good enough.

“So you’re the boy my Dallon is in love with.” She thought out loud, and Brendon nodded with some semblance of hope. Was that okay? “He’s mentioned you quite a few times before. Sent pictures, too.”

“He sent pictures of me?” He asked, feeling himself blush at the thought.

She nodded, smiling back at him. She liked him. At least he hoped she did. Meeting his boyfriend’s grandmother seemed like a step up from meeting his mother. It was on another level, almost. “He talks about you a lot. He really likes you. So you treat him well. Take care of him. He might not look like it, but he needs it.”

Brendon nodded a little too much. “I will. I promise.” He agreed, because they trusted him and that meant something.

Behind the wall that separated the kitchen and the living room, Dallon was smiling, eyes shut as he listened close. He and Brendon were always making promises in passing. They never had to say them to each other because words were just words. He knew Brendon wanted to take care of him. He wanted to take care of Brendon too. They were good at the unspoken, sometimes.

“Hey, we should get going,” Dallon said as he slipped back into the room, pretending he wasn’t eavesdropping as he went to set a hand on Brendon’s shoulder. “It’s raining and I don’t wanna be caught in a storm on the way back. Just in case.”

“Oh, okay.” Brendon stood up, still nervous though he wasn’t sure why. “It was nice to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet you too, honey.” She hugged him and then Dallon, winking when she thought Dallon couldn’t see. Brendon smiled and Dallon bit back his own, and they exchanged goodbyes before they slipped out into the rain. It had been misting on the drive there, though the sky was still blue. He had never been somewhere where the sun still shone through the rain.

Brendon climbed into the passenger seat and pulled his seatbelt on, quiet while Dallon picked out the key and stuck it in the ignition. Brown eyes flickering between Dallon’s fingers and the little drops of rain greeting the windshield. The car hummed to life, and Brendon said, “I met your grandmother today, dude. Your grandma. Theoretically, that’s like, a step up from meeting your mom. What a big day for our relationship.”

Dallon turned to smile at him, not bothering to contain a laugh. “I adore you, Bren, you know.”

Brendon turned back to him, his head against the headrest on the seat, watching with a blush as Dallon looked at him too. As the week came to an end, he found that he would miss this. The nights they shared out in the grass, counting stars and fireflies. The dichotomy of a city unlike their home, and the way the mountains looked different just a state over. He would miss Salt Lake City, but he knew that when he got back to Boulder City things would be different.

“I love you, Dallon.” More than he’d ever, ever know.

Dallon reached out to place a hand on his thigh and Brendon leaned his head back against the seat, feeling sleepy now that the day was almost over. And there was something beautiful in the rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling blood rush in his ears, as he closed his eyes and imagined himself right here because it was the only place he ever really wanted to be. In the sound of the rain on the road, and clouds looming over the mountains, and some quiet song on the radio before Dallon twisted it off.

“Whatcha thinkin’, babe?” He asked suddenly, voice gentle in the storm, and Brendon's eyes fluttered open to see a gray sky ahead.

He shook his head, a knee to his chest as the pitter-patter of rain pounded against the windshield. “You know how to drive in rain,” Brendon said like it wasn’t obvious, with maybe something underlying, because there was. Because Brendon drove himself crazy thinking Dallon was so damn perfect all the time.

Dallon looked between he and the road, smiling incredulously because sometimes he didn’t see it, how Brendon found the beauty in everything he did, but then again he saw Brendon in the same light sometimes, too. “Yeah...?”

“I love that about you. Not a lot of people are good at that.” He shrugged, still smiling in adoration, and Dallon was lost but he still smiled anyway, letting Brendon watch him watch the road because rain was drumming against the pavement and he was dizzy with the windshield wipers, serene without the radio on.

And there were so many permutations for I love you, words Dallon never really knew how to say. But he was trying, in this way that he wouldn’t have been able to try before, to be who Brendon deserved. As a child he’d been taught that actions spoke louder than words, and since then, when words failed him, he tried to prove them otherwise.

Brendon had his face in his hands as they made their way through the front door, laughing over nothing and only separating when they realized they weren't home alone. Dallon kissed him briefly, insinuating that they could probably get away with something if they really wanted to.

"Hey!" His mother greeted, emerging from the kitchen with a towel in her hands. "How's grandma?"

"She's good. She likes Bren." Dallon shoved his boyfriend playfully and he shoved back, still laughing like a child. "Are you making dinner?"

"Yep. Would you like to help?" She nodded her head toward the kitchen and Dallon nodded, reaching out to place a hand on Brendon's shoulder.

"I'm gonna go try to nap. Wake me up when it's ready?" Brendon stood up on his tiptoes and Dallon nodded, stealing a kiss and smiling when he did. He nodded cordially to Dallon's mother and escaped upstairs, not catching the way Dallon watched him until he was gone.

Dallon was blushing when he turned to follow the smell of food in the kitchen, reaching out for a knife easily and going to help cut tomatoes for the sauce she was making. She stood on the opposite side of the counter, her eyes steady, and watched his hands, the ring on his finger, the way he was smiling to himself like all of a sudden he had all the answers to the questions he'd been asking his whole life.

"You're happy." She said quietly, thinking out loud, and Dallon looked up to meet her eyes, sincere in this way she didn't always see in him.

"Yeah, I am." He agreed, and he hadn't even realized everybody could see it too.

* * *

The room was silent and all that could be heard was the sound of rain outside, pounding against the pavement and the windows. Dallon was sketching in the chair by the window and Brendon was trying to finish the last of his summer reading, having neglected it for the past few weeks. Taking advantage of the quiet of the night as the rest of the city was asleep.

“I’m bored.” Dallon sat up and closed his sketchbook suddenly, making Brendon look up from where he lay on the bed. “Come with me.” He requested, setting the sketchbook on the table and standing up, heading to the door. He turned to look at Brendon, the doorknob in his grasp, when he realized he wasn’t following. “You coming?”

What the hell else did he have to do? “Uh-huh.” He tossed his book onto the bed as he stood up to follow him.

Dallon shushed him, his mother was asleep, and they crept downstairs with hushed footsteps until they reached the bottom. Brendon reached out to grab Dallon’s arm, following him through the dark.

“Are we sleuthing?” He asked, excited though he didn’t know what for. “Or, oh, are we sneaking out? Cause-“

“No, no. Don’t worry.” Dallon reached up to pat Brendon’s arm and led him into the kitchen, where the dark greeted them until Dallon pulled open the freezer. “Just getting ice cream, is all.”

“Huh. Okay.” He watched Dallon dig out a carton of ice cream and two spoons from the drawer beside the fridge before he took a seat right there on the ground, patting the spot beside him.

Brendon smiled in amusement but sat down nonetheless, accepting a spoon while Dallon peeled the top of the ice cream carton off. He didn’t explain, just dug the spoon in ceremoniously, and Brendon had learned not to question him because he didn’t always have an explanation, anyway. He just sat there quietly, sneaking glances at Dallon’s face, contoured by the moonlight, when he thought he wasn’t looking. He always was. Dallon bumped his spoon against Brendon’s playfully. “I think the kitchen is the most important room in the house.” He told him conversationally.

Brendon smiled at him fondly. “Yeah? How do you figure?”

“Well, think about it." He gestured around them, and Brendon gave the kitchen a once-over. "Your life is in the kitchen. You start your day in here. Y’know, making breakfast. Eating it together, like any good couple would do.” He gestured between them as if to say duh, good couple. “Then of course you have dinner after a long day, where you talk all about it and reconnect. Plus, couples who cook together share a certain bond. You and I should try it.”

Brendon pulled a knee up and rested his elbow against it. “Well, maybe you could teach me then. Get me out of the world’s top ten most wanted for worst cooks.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dallon moved closer, smiling with his eyes, and his shoulder bumped against Brendon’s. “But other than that, the kitchen just holds so much opportunity. You can sit on the floor in the middle of the night eating ice cream, or dance while you cook, or just sit at the table and talk. Or...” He leaned in close, mouth brushing the shell of Brendon’s ear so gently that it was almost teasing. “I could fuck you hard against the counter. Anything is possible.”

Brendon could feel his cheeks redden and he brushed it off, knowing well that the offer wasn’t serious. “I really wish that was possible, you don’t even know,” Brendon laughed with him, “but your mom would probably wake up and I don’t think she wants to come down here to see me with you inside of me. So nice try, but it’ll have to wait. Although...” He stuck his spoon into the ice cream so it stood straight up and brought a hand up to touch the side of Dallon’s face, tilting it ever so softly in his direction to kiss him. “I think this is probably more appropriate.”

“Probably,” Dallon whispered just before their lips met again, parted slightly and saccharine sweet.

Brendon’s socked foot pushed the carton of ice cream away while he slid his hand up to tangle his fingers in Dallon’s hair, tilting his head to the side as Dallon reached up to grip his bicep. An ice cream flavored tongue poked at Brendon’s bottom lip and Brendon smiled languidly, eyelashes brushing Dallon’s cheek. They fell into a smooth rhythm of sticky sweet mouths melting together and hearts beating in time.

In a few hours, night would melt into dawn, and dawn would become the morning and then the afternoon and then the night that Brendon had to return back to his life at home. In just short of twenty-four hours, he would be in the backseat of Dallon’s mother’s car, Dallon beside him because he insisted he keep him company, hanging a hand out the window and wishing he could stay. Salt Lake City, long roads and sweet kisses and the place he discovered a piece of himself that had been hiding somewhere he never felt the need to look.

A boy who looked at the world like it held so much opportunity for him. The desire to know everything, the inability to, the way he just didn’t care because right now, he knew precisely what he needed to know. Someone who was surprisingly good at messing things up but still managed not to ruin what meant the most to him. A master of saying the wrong thing but twisting it with his charm. A hopefully devoted romantic with so much more to come. The boy who played with the king of hearts.

Brendon pulled away suddenly, like he was just reminded of something crucial, his fingers still inextricable with the messy locks of soft hair. “Thank you.” His lips met Dallon’s again. “For everything.” His thumb brushed underneath his ear, and all of a sudden he could feel Dallon’s pulse. Rapid. The heart rate of a tiny creature but such a big presence that you would never know. Hummingbird fast. Sugary sweet and buzzing with a body full of light, soft, the last of a dying breed. “This week has been really good for me. I needed this. I needed you.” His smile had to speak for itself. A declaration of I love you, a silent you saved my life. A reflection of what they had become. Two hearts beating as one, an individual entity, but not because they had to. Because they wanted to.

“I know you don’t realize it...” Dallon leaned in and pressed his forehead to Brendon’s, eyes slipping shut and their electric souls on fire. His lips stole a kiss from Brendon’s, quick enough to taste him, wrapping his fingers around his wrist to feel his pulse. “But I really needed you too.”

Brendon pulled away to meet his eyes, an azure blue that was blazing with childlike misdemeanor. Hiding out, tucking themselves in a world made just for them, shutting out the whispers and talking and screams to focus on one thing: this. Finding a home in one another. Brendon could live like this forever.

* * *

Brendon woke up with his head on Dallon’s heart, which would have made him smile at the irony of he wasn’t so tired. Dallon ran a hand up his arm, realizing just by the sound of his breathing that he was waking up; it was funny how much you could learn about a person when you paid attention. Brendon smiled, moving his hand up Dallon’s chest, sliding it to his neck and twisting a lock of hair in between his fingers.

“Good morning.” He hummed, his bones still achy with exhaustion.

“Mmm. Morning.” Dallon’s voice was scratchy and tired in that just woke up kind of way. Brendon’s eyes fell shut again, and he didn’t bother asking for the time, or turning to look at the clock. The rest of the world could wait. They felt infinite. They didn’t need time.

“I wish I could be here forever,” Brendon whispered suddenly, like the thought had just come to him, though he’d been thinking it more and more these days. He wanted a forever with him. Not something temporary. Not just the standard high school relationship or something he’d look back on when he was an adult, only seeing it as one of many. He loved Dallon now. He wanted to love him for the rest of his life.

Always. It held so much more meaning than just six letters, two vowels and four consonants, two syllables that rolled off the tongue with ease. It was what he had planned for them. Always.

“What, Salt Lake City?”

“No. Here. With you.”

Dallon smiled softly. “Well, you can. Look, I’ll tell you a secret.” He brushed a hand carefully over his face, and Brendon almost recoiled at the touch before his gentle fingertips met smooth skin. “If you close your eyes, you can come up with a world of your own. With anything you want in it, whatever you set your mind to. If you pretend hard enough, it’ll come true.”

Brendon smiled but closed his eyes to humor him, and when his dark eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, he pictured it. Lazy Sunday mornings, fun Saturday nights. Deeper meaningful conversation and dizzy happiness, pairs of lips meeting like two ships crossing in the night, except they docked together. A harbor meant just for them. And if you pretend hard enough, it’ll come true. What gravity did those words hold? “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Maybe not. But you don’t have to pretend, if you don’t wanna.” He assured him: that boy always had something to say. Brendon loved his quirky confidence in words he’d spoken just to get a laugh out of Brendon, because that was what he did. That was why he did everything he did.

Brendon smiled against his chest again, scratching underneath Dallon’s ear with short nails. It was substantial, how dichotomous their relationship could be. How they could go from burning hot flesh and sweat and words only spoken in the heat of the moment to sweet mornings like this, where Brendon could hear a steady heartbeat thumping beneath him, could feel the tenderness of shower fresh skin underneath his fingers.

The sound of birds singing their morning songs lingered outside in the Utah sun and the smell of fresh air came in through the windows. Dallon’s fingers tapped lazily against his back, like he was counting in time. But counting seemed pointless when the rest of the world didn’t exist. “You know the best part of living in Nevada?” He asked, and Brendon hummed. “All the chapels. Vegas has a million of ‘em. We could probably get married for twenty-nine ninety-nine when we get back, if you wanna.” He squeezed Brendon’s upper arm and half smiled when Brendon looked up at him for the first time that morning, blue eyes shining with the sun as Brendon rested his chin on his chest. It sounded good. A wedding. His own wedding. Dallon smiling down at him, flowers, music, all their loved ones. Sure. He could get behind that.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smiled back, and Brendon returned to resting his head on his chest, satisfied with his response. “You know, we could theme it too. We could totally theme it. Make it as cheesy as possible. Let’s, like, make it horror movie themed. Or-“

“Like, scuba diving themed.” Brendon added, it was the first thing that came to mind, and Dallon snorted. “Yeah, we could wear bathing suits and goggles and snorkels or whatever. That would be so iconic!”

“I never pictured a wedding veil equating to a pair of goggles, but whatever you want, baby.”

Brendon could hear the smile in his voice and he let out a quiet laugh against his chest. He could feel the rise and fall of Dallon’s body when he laughed too, and yeah, Brendon wouldn’t mind a wedding. Maybe not anytime soon, but Dallon was in his future. He knew that for a fact.

“Or of course, we do something classic. Tuxedo formal, open bar, and twinkling lights everywhere. It can be outdoor. I like outdoor weddings. We’ll have white flowers because they look elegant and they symbolize purity, even though you and I are nothing but impure." He nudged him suggestively and Brendon huffed in agreement. "But we will be when we’re married. And we’ll write our own vows, we’ll cry when we say them to each other because we’re both the perfect amount of emotional, and then we’ll have our first dance to something like Sinatra. Whatever you want. And later on, after everyone leaves, I’ll hold you like I am now and remind you that you’re the best decision I’ve ever made.”

Brendon shifted to look up at him again, realizing then that he meant it. They had only been dating a few months, but it was a tale told by all lovers. When you know, you know. Brendon never thought that he would be somebody that anybody fell for, but here he was. A boy that Dallon found it easy to fall for. Once upon a time he hadn’t thought it would be possible to love this hard, not until he knew a stitch of anything. But nothing in the world felt like this. Their innocence and firsts made it so much more beautiful.

“Holy shit, Dallon.” He breathed out, watching him smile back at him. “You literally have our wedding planned.”

“Hey, I’m just spitballing.” He offered, and Brendon laughed. There was something so special about them. So special about this. “I know we haven’t been together long. I know we have a lot of time left. But right now, I’m happy. And even if it’s crazy to say, I wanna be with you. So maybe if I play my cards right...”

Brendon smiled, flattening out his bedhead. “Play your cards right.”

“I’m gonna.” Dallon assured with a laugh, reaching out to brush hair out of Brendon’s eyes in return.

All of a sudden there was a knock on the door and Brendon shifted to curl up into his side; he’d forgotten that the rest of the word was still out there. “Good morning.” Dallon’s mother’s greeted, crossing the room to set a pile of folded clothes on the chair. “I’ve got your clean laundry for you to pack. Come get some breakfast while it’s hot. We should enjoy our last day here while we can.”

“Yes, mother.” Dallon sighed, but didn’t move from where he laid against Brendon, still under the covers and too comfortable to get up. “So, hey. Can I get married?”

She didn’t even look back at him as she headed back toward the door. “Absolutely not. Wait six years and then ask again.”

He looked at Brendon and raised his eyebrows comically. “Well, it was worth a shot. Wanna go eat?”

Brendon nodded and finally lifted himself off of Dallon’s body, following him down to the kitchen. He wanted to stay here forever. And he could lie to himself, pretend that it was forever, that he wasn’t leaving soon, but he didn’t like to lie. He preferred the truth.

“I don’t wanna return to my real life.” Brendon thought out loud as they sat down together at the table, in front of the breakfast Dallon’s mother had made.

“It’s always better when you can take a vacation.” Dallon agreed, but he didn’t know the half of it. “I don’t wanna go either, but let's just enjoy this together while we can, yeah?”

Brendon nodded, but he couldn’t help but feel nostalgic as the warm breeze from the kitchen window prickled at his skin. “Yeah, let’s.”


	25. Chapter 24: Barriers to Their Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I miss Cali and Utah :(

“You’re coming to California with me for the weekend,” Dallon said on the phone one night, a few days after they had gotten home from Salt Lake City. He’d barely been home all summer, having spent all his time with Dallon and their friends; his mother started calling him the lost boy, but honestly he felt like he’d found a piece of himself he didn’t know existed before.

“What?” He laughed, busy trying to clean up his room a bit after neglecting it since he’d gotten home.

“Seriously. I’ve been planning for weeks to take you to California for a weekend so we can go to the beach and spend some time alone together. Before we go back to school. Your mom okayed it and I got us a hotel. We’re gonna drive there this weekend. You can sleep over the night before so we can leave early Friday morning. You wanna?”

“Yes, I wanna. Dallon.” He awed, sitting back in the chair at his desk. He’d been to the beach a few times in his life, back when his family took the time off for vacations, but he hadn’t been in years. He hadn’t been able to find the time. Now it felt like all they had was time. “You’re so sweet.”

“Just doing my job.” He hummed, but Brendon could tell he was proud of himself. He got up, smiling to himself, and went to pack a bag.

* * *

“Dallon Urie.” Dallon looked over at Brendon from his desk, an eyebrow raised in curiosity as Brendon sat up on his elbows in bed. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Dallon clicked his tongue in thought and set his pen down on his sketchbook. “Brendon Weekes.” He said in turn, failing to admit that he'd thought much too often about it.

“Huh.” He watched Dallon get up to join him in bed, reaching out to pull him down for a kiss when he reached him. “Let’s compromise.”

“Hm. Weekes Urie?”

“Urie Weekes.” Brendon corrected, smiling cheekily. “No hyphen. It’ll look better that way. On the Christmas cards and stuff.”

Dallon laid down beside him in bed and Brendon tugged at his tee shirt lazily. He was getting used to this. Comfortable. “I didn’t even think about the Christmas cards! You’re good, Brendon Urie Weekes.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Brendon pushed against his chest playfully and leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, making himself comfortable as they prepared for bed. “What time do we have to leave tomorrow?”

“Five a.m.” He brushed a lock of dark hair out of Brendon’s tired eyes, watching him sigh and smiling sympathetically in return. “I know it’s early, but we gotta get out before the traffic. You can sleep in the car if you want to. As long as you don’t mind the music playing.”

“No, I don’t mind. It’s just so early.” He curled up beside Dallon and pouted, letting him tuck them both in.

“Well, we don’t have to go...” Dallon started teasingly.

Brendon peeked up at him. “Yes we do. I’ll stop complaining.” He poked at Dallon’s shoulder and settled down, already sleepy. It was early, too early to go to bed, but they were leaving early too and Brendon didn’t know what else to do. He figured sleeping was more productive than anything else. “Wake me up when it’s time to go.” Brendon sighed again, turning over onto his side to hide his face from the light.

Dallon tapped him awake just before five after Brendon had tossed and turned all night, having weird dreams when his mind couldn’t calm down. He tried to stay awake as he climbed into the passenger seat, making small talk as Dallon started up the car.

“If you were to have one wish, what would it be?” Dallon asked, sticking the key in the ignition.

Brendon shrugged half-heartedly, squirming in his seat and trying to get comfortable. “I would probably wish that it wasn’t so early.” He whined, but bumped his fist against Dallon’s when he smiled. “I’m kidding. I don’t know. I’d have to think about that. What about you, babe? What would you wish for?”

Dallon shrugged too, pulling out of the parking spot and out into the foggy morning. “Well, there’s a lot that I would wish for.”

Brendon pulled his knees to his chest and looked up to see the hazy morning mist reflecting in his eyes. “Enlighten me.”

“First of all I would wish for my dad to be alive, but that’s a no brainer. Then of course there’s the whole ending world hunger thing, world peace, universal health care, blah blah. And obviously, free Dr. Pepper for everyone.” He waved a hand around aimlessly.

“You already get free Dr. Pepper, boyfriend of the diner boy.” Brendon poked at him playfully.

“So why shouldn’t I give everyone else that luxury?”

“That’s true. You’re so generous.” Brendon reached out to place a hand on Dallon’s thigh and leaned his forehead against the window, making himself comfortable as he closed his eyes. “So, we have a problem.” He added after a moment, figuring that now was as good a time as any.

“What’s that?” Dallon asked, not taking the statement seriously.

Brendon smiled like it was some sick joke and admitted, “I’m scared of the ocean.”

“Wait. What?” He looked toward Brendon for any sign of a lie, but there was none. “We’ve been together for half a year and I don’t know that you’re scared of the ocean?” He asked incredulously, and Brendon simply nodded, amused at himself for getting to him. “So why are you letting me take you to a hotel on a beach? Where we’re literally going just so we can swim in the ocean?”

Brendon laughed sardonically: the irony wasn’t lost on him. “I just wanted to spend time with you! I thought— y’know, I thought it would just be nice to get away for a couple of days. I hardly incorporated the ocean into my thoughts about this trip. Besides, I assumed the hotel would have a pool or something. I can hang out in the pool and you can send me a postcard from the ocean. Or you can stay in the pool with me. I’ll probably flirt better from there, anyway.”

“We have pools here, Bren,” Dallon argued, but he sounded amused. He was on his way to a weekend trip to the ocean with a boy who was scared of the ocean. “So, like, why the ocean?”

Brendon shrugged lazily. “Just freaks me out. So much of it has yet to be discovered and that makes me super uncomfortable. There could be fucking anything in there. I swear, there are probably things that are scarier and bigger and toothier than sharks and whales under there and I’m not going to be the first person to discover it. Sharks are scary as it is. Then there are like, eels, and jellyfish, and crabs, God, don’t even get me started on the motherfucking crabs.”

Dallon let out a laugh and reached out to place a hand on Brendon’s knee for compensation. “Oh, baby.”

“I promise you, Dallon, I am not going in that ocean.”

“Oh, you are. I’m making you, but don’t you worry your pretty little head about any of that right now." He reached out to push Brendon's head to the side, and Brendon snorted. "Right now, you should take a nap, and you should dream of how amazing and beautiful and wondrous the ocean is, and today I’ll introduce you to it.”

“In your fucking dreams.” Brendon swatted at his hand playfully before he tangled their fingers together and pulled his hand up to kiss the back of it.

Brendon didn’t know when he’d drifted off or how long it had taken him, but as the road bumped and Dallon drove to the sound of quiet music playing through the stereo, he had this dream about the beach. He was with Dallon and they were walking hand in hand down the beach, but the water was climbing higher and higher and trying to get at him. Only the water was warm, and Brendon was confused. Dallon was urging him toward it, face his fears, but Brendon was scared. He was always scared.

“Bren, sweetheart, we’re here,” Dallon whispered carefully as he rubbed at Brendon’s arm. The boy blinked once, twice, three times until his eyes opened and he looked up at the sunny sky in front of him.

Brendon threw himself down on the hotel bed once they’d gotten their room, still sleepy after having drifted in and out of sleep for hours in the car. Dallon set his suitcase down at the foot of the bed and watched him make himself at home, snuggling up to the extra pillows. “Do you really wanna spend our first day in California in bed?”

Brendon closed his eyes and smiled against the soft white sheets, looking like some sort of vision with his tanned skin against the pure white, dark, dark eyes and perfect lips. He was beautiful. He never believed it when Dallon said it. “I could think of worse ways to spend the day.”

Dallon smirked at what he definitely meant as an innuendo, but joined him in bed because he had no interest in trying to refute. They had all weekend. They had all the time in the world. Brendon shifted toward him, hooking a leg over Dallon’s, tucking his foot between his legs and making himself comfortable. Dallon ran his hand up and down his back, eventually letting it settle.

“When we wake up, we’re going to the beach.” Dallon decided like it was final, but when he was holding him like this, he could get whatever he wanted.

“Uh-huh.” Brendon nuzzled his face in his chest, nose pressing into the fabric of his tee shirt. “You know, I like all the alone time we’ve been getting these past two months. Our parents must really trust us.”

“Yeah, I guess they do. But we’re different, y’know? You and I are more than that. For two teenage boys that are all testosteroney and in love, we should basically be mad as rabbits.”

He could feel a smile against his chest. “But I’m comfortable just laying here with you touching my ass. This is enough for me.” Dallon laughed, and Brendon joined did too, grinning hazily. “I mean, we could spend our time fucking and trust me, that would be great and everything, but we’ve got our whole lives to do that, if everything we talked about this summer meant anything. I like taking it slow with you. I like what we have.”

“I do too, sweetheart.” Dallon sighed in content, and when he looked up at the ceiling, the reflection of light from the balcony made a heart. Brendon was right: they had their whole lives. Dallon really believed that.

* * *

Dallon was alone in bed when he woke up a couple of hours later, tangled in the sheets as he tended to toss and turn in unfamiliar beds. He blinked a few times and pushed himself up to sit, looking around only for a moment before he found him. A tiny figure leaning over the edge of the balcony, looking pensive. Slowly, Dallon got up to join him.

The glass door fell shut behind him as he stepped bare-footed out onto the balcony, heart thrumming. Brendon had stripped down to just his boxers, the rest of his body exposed to the late afternoon sun, soaking up as much of it as he could. Summer would be over soon, the golden days would fade into increments of seven forty-five to two thirty, ringing bells and footsteps in crowded hallways, dull artificial lighting and no sunshine.

“It’s been fun, not being me this summer,” Brendon said quietly into the wind, almost letting the confession be carried away with it. Dallon’s eyebrows knit together in confusion and he reached out to rest a hand on his hip.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, unsure.

Brendon took in a long breath and inhaled the California air, let it settle deep in his body, deep in his lungs. The smell of the ocean mixed with gasoline and cigarettes and sunscreen, sweat and shampoo. “I’m not like this. Carefree and happy and— and whatever I have been this summer.” He leaned forward, over the railing, and looked out solemnly as if the ground below were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. Picturing a world where he was his ideal and not just a failed version of it. “Don’t wanna go back.”

Dallon stared at the back of his head for a long time, watching the way the strands danced in the wind. “You know, in these past two months I’ve gotten to know you in a way I never thought I would. I think that people have a lot of layers, especially if they’re scared to be vulnerable, if they’ve got barriers to their truths. And you and I— we’re as guarded as they come.” Guarded? Well, Brendon could have told him that. “But I think it takes something really significant to be able to see past the barriers and be able to knock walls down. The thing about us people who are guarded is that it’s not always easy to admit it, but when we do, it makes it a little easier: we want someone to figure us out. We need someone to figure us out. And when no one can it’s frustrating, but it makes sense, because we build ourselves in a way that no one can see who we really are. We feel like we need to hide. I’ve never known what I want, I’ve always been kind of unlucky in that regard. I’ve spent my whole life shutting out the world because it did nothing for me so I wanted to do nothing for it. And now— now it’s like I’ve finally realized that all this time I’ve been waiting for someone to come and break my walls down. And someone did.”

His fingers slid over Brendon’s bare hip as he stepped closer to stand beside him, eyes fixated off in the distance where a stretch of ocean was visible off to the side of the hotel. Pinpoints of colorful people on the sand with umbrellas and towels and smiling faces, dipping their toes into the vast unknown. Waves crashing against the shores, a transient love affair, a greeting between lovers that was negligent by the rest of the world’s eye. Who could see it?

They said that ninety-five percent of the ocean had been left unexplored. That was a scary thought. Some of the world’s most well-known explorers traversed the ocean in search of new life. It was dangerous, but the world had a lot of opportunity. Everyone wanted to be the first to find something.

The ocean was unexplored. So many things were unexplored. Undiscovered. Ghost towns, abandoned old hiking trails, secrets that were intended to be kept. Forests that were rumored to be the province of haunting apparitions. The part of one’s psyche where lights flashed and alarms sounded and told them to get out, get the hell out. For Brendon, that part of him had locked the gate and threw away the key. Well, someone had gone searching for it.

So the ocean was ninety-five percent unexplored, and he was the crashing waves, collapsing in on themselves each night and rolling in with the tide each morn.

There were parts of himself that he had yet to discover.

Brendon turned slowly, slowly, and met Dallon’s eyes. Steady on his, shades of blue unwavering. They made a home, and he could build his walls up again, twice as thick and three times as high, but it wouldn’t matter. He would find a way in.

Quietly, but with a hint of defiance in his voice, Brendon said, “Take me to the ocean.”

* * *

“This was a stupid idea,” Brendon decided as he stood ten feet away, staring at the foaming tide where the waves met the sand and fizzled out like its time had come. It looked like it had fucking rabies and was out to get him. He didn’t actually sign off on this, did he? He didn’t make any formal agreements. He wasn’t, like, terrified. He could go in if he wanted to. But who wanted to be covered in salt water and seaweed? Not him.

Sure, he could go in if he wanted to. He just... didn’t want to.

If he would have known how much of a pussy he would be, he would have just stayed home.

“It’s not a stupid idea, Brendon. It’s just a body of water.” Dallon threw his hand out toward the ocean.

Brendon’s eyes flickered from Dallon to the crashing waves and back to Dallon, who looked like he wanted to laugh. “A scarily large body of water! That can swallow me whole! And there are— there are way too many fish, Dallon, and sharks and jellyfish and-“

“The crabs, I know.” And then he did laugh. “Look, I know you don’t like it, the ocean, but come on. You’re not gonna go out far enough to get hurt and I’ll be there with you the entire time. I’ll hold your hand. I’ll keep an eye out for you. I always do, don’t I?”

“Yes, but...” Brendon looked down at his feet and wiggled his toes in the sand. Solid ground. He’d been standing on solid ground, lately more than he had been, and he wasn’t ready for that to be taken away. No undertow could sweep him up that easily. “It's fucking terrifying. And I'm not going in."

"Brendon." He sighed, turning his body toward the infinite stretch of sea in front of him. There was an element of unknowingness that could scare anyone if they really thought about it, but Dallon had always been one to take risks. Brendon just needed a push out of his comfort zone. "What's with you and the ocean? Why are you so freaked out? I mean, the chances of you getting hurt aren't very likely. So... what?"

Brendon shifted uncomfortably and looked out like he was challenging the sea to a battle. “Fear of the unknown.”

Dallon raised his eyebrows and watched the boy examine the vast expanse. "Ah. Says the boy with the desire to know everything."

Brendon swallowed thickly. "Nothing gets by you."

Dallon smiled and reached out a hand, wiggling his fingers. Brendon hated him. Hated him for being so damn persistent, and so damn cute, and so damn irresistible. Brendon was going to regret this. He’d step into the ocean and it would steal him away, right out of Dallon’s arms. He’d get pulled out and taken to the lost city of Atlantis where all the merpeople lived, and they’d mock him for being scared and they’d laugh at him and tear him open and feast on his bones.

“Come on, baby. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Brendon muttered under his breath, taking a brave step closer to him. Dallon’s eyes lit up, and Brendon found himself shaking when he took Dallon’s hand and let him lead him to the shore.

Waves rushed against the soft sand, shells nestled underneath and God knew what else. White foam from the waves fizzled in front of his feet as he stared down with wide eyes, waiting, watching. He could have turned around and gone back to the hotel. Who did he promise, anyway? It wasn’t like he signed a contract.

But Dallon was watching him, eyes the same color as the ocean, and, well, he felt calm in those for a reason.

Cautiously he stepped into the water, his feet sinking in the sand as the waves crashed over his bare toes and the undertow tried to pull him in. He tightened his grip on Dallon’s hand and frowned down at the rushing water, as if to berate it for trying to scare him so soon.

He got out to his knees in the freezing cold water and eyed every little thing that floated toward him. Seaweed, shells, weird bugs, and suddenly he saw something that resembled a crab leg and turned to bolt back toward the shore. Dallon followed, smiling in amusement, and Brendon wrapped himself in his towel, shaking from the cold.

“See, babe? It’s not that bad!” Dallon pat Brendon’s quivering shoulder.

“Can we— can we just go get some damn ice cream? I think I’ve had enough of this fucking monster for one day.” Brendon gestured to the crashing waves in front of him and tugged his towel around him tighter, making a grin split Dallon’s face in half. He thought it was funny.

“You’re so cute. Yes, we’ll go get ice cream. Ocean part two is later.” He picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, tucking Brendon under his arm as they headed toward the boardwalk.

“Do you want me to die?” He overdramatized, looking to him with horror.

“You’re adorable.”

“Oh, so my pain is amusing to you.” Brendon pushed him away and tightened his grip on the towel around his shoulders. “You’re a terrible person.” He accused, but Dallon just smiled. He’d helped Brendon face his fears more than he’d know: he could do it again.

* * *

Brendon looked up at the sky and squinted as they laid on the beach, the sun leaving a layer of heat on his skin. The beach was different from the desert, without the dry heat and the looming presence of the lack of life out there. California was warm and beachy and smelled like salt. He was far from home. "Can I tell you something kind of ridiculous?"

"An opening statement that has always led us to an intriguing conversation." Dallon dipped his head to smile brightly at him. "Sure, go ahead."

"When I was little, I went to the beach with my family. It was down in Florida, though, we went to Disney and then went to the beach for a couple of days. I may have been eight or nine, I don't remember. But I was at the beach and I went in the water and like, I was just standing there, and a crab walks over my foot. Straight up stomps on me like I'm not even there. A motherfucking crab."

He turned to see Dallon burst out into laughter, covering his face with his hands so not to make a scene. Brendon laughed at the not so fond memory too; that dumb crab may have ruined that trip, but he was making new memories. Better memories.

"I mean, that's not why I'm scared of the ocean, but it's definitely one of the reasons. Fucking terrifying." He added, looking away indignantly.

Dallon sighed away the rest of his laughter, letting his head fall back as he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes underneath his sunglasses. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm sure that if that crab had any emotional acuity, it would be harboring some pretty deep regret for walking over your foot."

Brendon hummed bitterly and squinted his eyes at the ocean like that very crab was in this very ocean, taunting him with the memory of its assault on him. "I hope that keeps it up at night."

Dallon followed his gaze and smiled at the insinuation. "How long do crabs live? It might be dead."

"Even better."

Dallon laughed again and pushed a hand through his hair, averting has gaze away from Brendon and instead toward the ocean, over the crowds of people who had claimed spots in front of them and past all of their unknown company. Pops of color were scattered across the sand, umbrellas and towels and plastic toys for kids, but he didn’t get it. He could see why Brendon thought it was scary but when it all came down to it, there was nothing to be afraid of. People were swimming and chasing each other and diving under the current only to be pulled closer to shore, where they started again. Everyone was smiling, laughing, having fun.

Brendon looked toward the sky, where two kites were being flown somewhere out of their peripheral vision. Soaring overhead, cutting through fresh air and the clear blue sky, ribbons trailing behind them. He wondered fleetingly if that was what it felt like to not be so scared. Maybe that was what it felt like to be free. He felt pretty free right now.

“So why not a lake?” Dallon asked suddenly from beyond his sunglasses, propping himself up on his elbows and dipping his head to look at Brendon, who was trying to shake some sand out of his hair.

Brendon looked up at him suddenly, confused. “Huh?”

Dallon pushed the sunglasses up to the top of his head. “You’re scared of the ocean. I can get behind that— it’s big and undiscovered and over twelve thousand feet deep and... yeah, okay. The ocean. Kind of minatory. But what about the lake? I mean, it's dirty, swampy, they've got their own wide selection of questionable species. You know the lake has snapping turtles. Like, turtles, Brendon, except they snap. I think that's much scarier than the ocean."

Brendon gave him a look. "You think the lake is scarier than the ocean? This thing that's thousands of miles deep and almost completely unexplored?" He extended an arm toward, lo and behold, the ocean. "No. That's absolutely ridiculous. Sure, there's always the possibility of lake monsters, obviously," Dallon laughed again, "but you can't get lost at sea in a lake. You get lost at sea in the sea. Is the sea the same thing as the ocean?"

Dallon waved a hand in a forget it manner. "Kind of. The sea is a part of the ocean, usually it's smaller and enclosed by a piece of land. Not important."

Brendon shrugged like it didn't matter. "Right." He agreed. "Well, either way, the ocean's got more possibility for disaster. Can't swim? You're swept out to sea and no one can save you. Wanna go out farther than up to your neck? Surprise, you're shark food! Wanna stand? Waves are too big, good fucking luck. See a crab? It's gonna step over your fucking foot. That crab stole my innocence, Dallon, I swear. No lake has ever done that to me."

"If we're being technical, I think I stole your innocence." Dallon figured logically. Brendon looked at him again, catching the smile he was giving him and deciding then that that smile made all of it worth it. Facing his fears. Facing the unknown. “But I still don’t understand why you hate the ocean so much and not lakes. Lakes are just as ominous. I mean, they have weird fish too. And alligators. Not to mention the slimy plants and lake weed.”

Brendon turned to look at him, eyebrows furrowed, and Dallon arched one challengingly. He was amused, then. “So, you think that this thing right here— this thing can fucking swallow me whole and give literally millions of creatures the opportunity to feast on my poor little body— is less terrifying than a mere lake? You’re fucked up, Dallon.”

Dallon laughed and reached out to smack his arm, making him smile back and recoil. “No. I’m not scared of either of them, trust me. To me they’re just water. I just think that the ocean is a lot more than just foreboding. You know only like, five percent of the ocean has been explored. And almost a fourth of the world’s water comes from the ocean.”

Brendon made a face of disinterest, letting his gaze linger toward the waves, bending and breaking. “So you’re weird and can pull a bunch of ocean facts out of your ass, so what?”

He let out another quiet laugh, and Brendon dipped his head. “I’m just saying, the ocean has more to offer than just presumptuous crabs. The lost city of Atlantis, mermaids, sirens, krakens. The ocean's been around forever and there’s a lot of cool myths. You don’t get that kind of buzz anywhere else.”

Brendon pursed his lips and clucked his tongue, turning away to cast his gaze back toward the ocean. Sure, he’d heard all the myths at one point or another, but how true could they be? Did the ninety-five percent of the unexplored ocean contain some sort of secret that the rest of the world didn’t know? Maybe it was locked up somewhere down there. With thousands of feet of pitch-black water, there was a lot of wiggle room for secrets. There was no one to tell. No one to trust. The sharks wouldn’t listen, and the crabs would tell everyone: they had no respect for anyone but themselves. “I see.”

“Like, okay. What about Amelia Earhart? The Bermuda Triangle? Haunted shipwrecks? And sunken treasure! You know there’s an estimate of like, sixty billion dollars’ worth of sunken treasure in the ocean. Imagine it. You could find all that, you know. If you weren’t so scared.”

Brendon huffed and peeked over at his boyfriend, smiling like this was something he felt passionately about. He was always so passionate. “Well, I already hit the fucking jackpot.”

Dallon smiled, pushing himself up to sit, and suddenly Brendon’s cheeks were red. He hadn’t meant for it to come out like that: so sincere. He meant it, though. He already had what he wanted. “God, that was so cliché.”

Brendon made a noise of defeat. “I know. I was trying to express my gratitude to you for bringing me here after having planned it forever and then actually keeping it a secret and surprising me with it, and managing to somewhat get me out of my comfort zone without actually saying thank you.”

Dallon half smiled and half smirked; sometimes he just really amazed Brendon. “You just did.”

Brendon sat up on his own towel and ran a hand through his hair, trying to get rid of the sand. “Ah, damnit.”

The harshness of the sun was settling down and the late afternoon was turning to evening. People were packing up their things, preparing to leave the beach barren. “You wanna get outta here? Go back to the hotel?” Dallon asked, nodding his head toward the people around them and suggesting they follow their lead.

“Good idea.” He agreed, and they got up in unison to shake out their towels and head back to the hotel.

Brendon was fiddling with the remote and watching something on the hotel’s TV that evening when Dallon stepped out of the bathroom, dressed again and toweling off his hair. It turned lighter in the summer, Brendon noticed. The sun brought out the blonde in it. “Hey, so I looked up the lifespan of a crab. It depends on the species, but the average is eight to thirteen years. So the crab that assaulted you very well may be alive.”

“What?! That’s cheap.” Brendon made a face and Dallon smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Joke's on him, I have the cutest boy in the world. If only the crab could see me now.”

“I bet if crabs were humanistically romantically sentient and gay, he’d be so totally jealous.” Dallon smiled an inch away from his mouth as their lips met again, and Brendon shifted closer when Dallon’s hand found the small of his back. “Hey. I’ve got a surprise for you.” He added, and Brendon sat up, smiling.

* * *

Brendon watched the waves crash and roll on the shore as the sky darkened, the beach vacant save for the two of them. Dallon packed up the leftovers of the picnic he’d set up, smiling to himself as he looked up to see Brendon, perfectly content in his place.

“Wanna go for a walk?” Dallon asked, getting up prematurely and reaching out to help Brendon up.

“Yeah.” Brendon agreed softly, leaving his shoes at their blanket. Dallon brought his camera, teasing Brendon all day with pictures and trying to get him to laugh, and they headed down to the shore.

The ocean was black, ominous waves rattled the sea and met the sand with reckless abandon as the two watched and wondered. Brendon was scared of the ocean. Maybe it was because of that crab that had walked over his foot or maybe it was because of the ambiguousness of it, the fact that it was completely unknown and it was impossible to discover it all. Maybe it was because across it was a whole other world that Brendon had yet to see, or that the ocean was big and unforgiving. But for some reason, he wasn’t scared tonight.

And he looked at Dallon. And maybe it was because he was the ocean.

It was the swell and surge and rush of too much at once. Dauntless and wild and unexpecting, begging to sate the feeling of salt in his skin and the currents of his blood. A lover with bone-craving desire for the shore. Stable ground, something soft and tangible and welcoming. Maybe Brendon was the shore. The safe bet in a card game of kings and queens and jokers poking fun, because he’d never think to play his ace. But the waves were an indestructible presence, becoming madness, caught in the tide that corroded what was before. An overdose of intensity like the essence of the rolling riptide. The boy with oceans inside of him.

And if Dallon was the ocean, then maybe it wasn’t so bad.

As he stepped closer to his fear, he let his eyes wander. Something about it at night made it seem less scary. He couldn’t see too far out in front of him, only the white fizz of the waves crashing against the shore and the ripples of water that the moonlight reflected on. He’d learned that the moon controlled the tides, that its gravity and the Earth’s rotation pushed and pulled waves. The bend and break and crash and repeat.

"It's different here. From Nevada, you know? It's kind of weird." He observed, and could feel Dallon's eyes on him. "I like it and everything, I may not like the ocean much but I love the smell of the beach. It's fresh. And don't get me wrong, I love home, but we're so far from all this. We're so close to the desert. It's so dead." He gestured to the ocean, and Dallon could see his point. Going from the driest place in the country to the ocean. It was a big change. They both knew how Brendon felt about change.

"There's a lot of life in the desert. You'd be surprised." Dallon stepped forward to stand beside him, eyes settling on the tide. There was life in the desert, plants and animals and all those myths. Ghost towns and spirits and extraterrestrial beings and a world lit up by neon lights. There was life in the desert, but you had to squint to see it. More of a reason to be fascinated, of course, but wasn’t that also more incentive to wonder?

The desert was an enigma, but Brendon was getting used to those. Maybe one day he would venture out like he did with the ocean, but for now he wanted to stay in the comfort of his home. Besides, the desert was for losing yourself and finding yourself again, all out in a world where no one else existed and you were by yourself in solitude. He was still trying to find himself, after all. He didn’t need to lose himself just yet.

He turned to face Dallon, half smiling in spite of himself. “The desert kind of scares me too, to tell you the truth. It feels forbidden. No man’s land.” He made a gesture with his hands as if to indicate that it was too big, totally barren, and completely frightening. Dallon glanced at him skeptically, an eyebrow raised. “It is! It’s so empty and scary, like this totally desolate world that no one should dare to cross. You ever hear of the Nevada triangle?”

“Sure I have.”

“Right. That’s enough to be fucking terrified.” He folded his arms over his chest. “A place where no one can hear you scream for miles is not a place I wanna be.”

“Huh. I like the desert,” Dallon shrugged, mimicking his position. He liked the mystery, the myths, the stories. He liked how you could get lost and be found in the dust where the world let you be, but it was all done on your own volition. There was something alluring about the desert, and if you didn’t understand, you didn’t understand. It was nothing that could be explained. They were different, sometimes immensely so. Somehow, it worked in their favor. Dallon turned to him with a smirk and asked as a second thought, “so, are you scared of like, all landscapes?”

Brendon smiled back and reached out to shove him. “Shut up.” He berated before he turned to go explore the beach while Dallon stayed behind, snapping some pictures of a lifeguard tower. Brendon admired the sound of the water rushing: he could find the beauty even in things that scared him. He did in Dallon, once upon a time.

Brendon leaned forward to pick up a seashell he found on the ground, making the hood of his sweatshirt fall over his head and his glasses tilt down. He pulled them off and tucked them into his pocket, content with just seeing close to him, because Dallon was just a few feet away. That was as close as he needed to see.

Dallon approached him while Brendon stood up straight, the shell in hand, and turned back toward Dallon to smile at him. His dark eyes were sparkling when he reached out to hand his boyfriend the shell, a white and orange colored conch, and when it touched the palm of Dallon’s hand, he laughed. Not the heartfelt response he was expecting, but he laughed too, not sure how else to respond.

“Oh my god, you’re so cute. You’re literally like a toddler.” He held up the shell and couldn’t bite back a laugh. Brendon Urie. He was unlike anyone Dallon had ever met.

“It’s a token of my love!” He laughed, offended, or perhaps just playing. Dallon smiled, though, and looked down at it before he slipped it into his pocket to keep forever. Just like he had done to Brendon, too.

“I know, I know. I love it, baby. And you.” Brendon was blushing when he looked down at their toes in the sand, and only when he heard the click of the camera did he look back up in time for Dallon to lean in and press their lips together.

Brendon felt that kiss all the way to his toes, and he reached up to wrap his arms around Dallon’s neck, almost stumbling over as he had no sense of balance. “I love you more,” Brendon whispered, and as his chest pressed to Dallon’s, standing on his tiptoes, he wondered if he could feel his heart.

He listened close to the sound of Dallon’s beating against his, and decided that it was one they shared.

* * *

Dallon woke up with a hazy smile as a good dream lingered, his hand cradled against Brendon's chest because the boy always managed to get some part of him to hold in his sleep when it was too hot to use each other as a pillow. He reached up to brush his index finger knuckle against his chin, making him tilt his head upward and smile in his sleep. Brendon was beautiful, didn't think so himself but Dallon tended to see things in a different way. These big eyes he still hadn't exactly grown into, pale skin and freckles that came out in the sun. A smile that made his right eye squint more than the left, the dimple in his cheek, the way his skin dipped smoothly, how his eyelashes fluttered as he dreamt. Dallon didn't know how he'd managed to find someone who just happened to be as perfect on the inside as he was on the outside.

He watched him sleep, the rise and fall of his bare chest, the dark hair in his eyes, and he felt this effervescence in his chest thinking that this was forever. And after all was said and done, every word that Brendon Urie had ever spoken and everything he had done would be ingrained in his mind for the rest of his life.

He was careful when he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, not wanting to wake the sleeping boy because it was rare to see Brendon look so peaceful. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, looking over his shoulder and wishing he could just stay forever.

But he could hear the clock tick, and time was always such a beautiful thing.

“Bren." He whispered, rubbing his arm gently as the boy stirred. “It’s gettin’ late. We don’t wanna sleep the whole weekend away.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Brendon muttered into his pillow, stretching in a bed that wasn’t his and more comfortable than he ever was at home.

Dallon watched the scene in front of him like he was in a dream, Brendon’s careful movements and his smooth skin in the sunlight as he got out of bed. The way the blinds filtered light into the room and how Brendon’s body flexed when he stretched his arms above his head, footsteps silent on the carpet. He grunted, arched his back, yawned, Dallon’s blue eyes trained on his figure.

“Hey, Dal?” Brendon tugged at his pale blue boxers and put his hands on his hips, looking at the way the color contrasted against his skin. “Do I have a girl’s body?”

Dallon glanced up at him and half smiled, looking him over though he already knew the answer. “Yeah, absolutely.”

Brendon turned around to look at him. “I do?!” He asked, surprised. He didn’t know how many people had noticed. He didn’t even really notice himself until he got the chance to observe what Tyler had told him a hundred times before.

“Yeah. It’s not a bad thing. I like it.” Dallon got up, smiling to himself, and went to place his hands on his waist from behind, as if observing his figure. Brendon could feel his warm breath on the back of his neck as he sized him up. “Small waist, narrow shoulders, girly hips. I think it looks nice on you, though. You’re little, so it works.”

Brendon frowned down at himself. “Yeah, I wear girl's jeans. I got my mom’s body.” He put his hands on his hips and slid his fingertips underneath the hem of his boxers absentmindedly. “Do I really have girly hips?”

Dallon smiled sweetly, sliding his hands up his sides, brushing his lips against the side of his neck. Teasing, he whispered, “You could carry a baby.”

“Who says I’m not already?” Brendon turned around, feigning accusation, and caught his lips in a kiss, reaching out to pull Dallon's body against his own. "You have girly hips too, you know."

Dallon raised an eyebrow in intrigue, clearly never having heard that claim. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. And I never thought I'd be into it, but shit." He placed his hands on Dallon's waist too. He knew he was insecure. Knew he didn’t like much about himself. But Brendon was getting to know his body and he loved it, whether or not Dallon loved it too. With a sigh, he finished, “I love the shape of your hips."

Pink clustered in Dallon's cheeks and he looked away. "Shut up."

"No, I'm serious. You just... have a comfortable shape. I know you don't think so but..." He shook his head, lost in his train of thought. "You have a beautiful body, is all." He leaned in to press their lips together, not mentioning the look on Dallon’s face. The look of incredulity. “I’m gonna brush my teeth and get changed.”

Dallon was quiet for a second while Brendon lingered in his space, until he reluctantly stepped away. “Okay. I’m gonna run down to the lobby to get something to eat and some coffee.” Dallon’s eyes followed Brendon’s body until he turned toward the door, eyes soft. “Thanks, Bren.” He added as a second thought, and Brendon turned to look at him.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled, and disappeared into the bathroom.

* * *

Brendon ran his fingers over the towel and dipped them into the sand, speckles of crystallized rocks and grains soft in between his fingertips. Dallon stood a little ways away, crouching and aiming his camera toward a flock of seagulls by the ocean’s edge. Brendon watched the little pitter-patter of their feet against the sand before they took off in flight, and Dallon tried to capture their takeoff.

“You better be having them sign photo release forms,” Brendon called. Dallon turned to look at him with a lopsided smile and started toward the towel, camera in hand, as he pushed his sunglasses on top of his head and his salty hair fell in his eyes.

“I guess I ought to.” He took a seat beside him and showed him the screen of the camera. “Here’s a cute one of you.” He pointed out a photo of Brendon playing with the sand and Brendon reached out to take the camera, feigning interest, but snatched it to take a photo of Dallon instead. “Hey, I’m not the prime subject here.” He laughed, putting a hand out to cover the lens.

“You should be, gorgeous. Look at you.” He clicked through his pictures, smiling in satisfaction. “Make me copies of every photo you’re in, please, okay? I need more cute pictures of you. I love your smile.”

“God, what a dork.” Dallon teased, bumping his knee against Brendon’s as he made himself comfortable on their towel, hidden from the crowd near some rocks that Brendon had explored while Dallon hung back, snapping photos and getting his feet wet in the tide. The water glistened with the sun, high in the azure sky and beating down on sunscreened shoulders, tinting skin pink and shining a golden glow in pretty blue eyes.

He poked at Dallon’s arm. “Yeah, you like that? Mushy sentiment? Because I can do more. Seeing your smile makes my day.” He put a hand to his chest dramatically and threw his head back, receiving a kick in the calf as Dallon laid back on the towel and laughed.

“Ew, stop. I’m gagging. Seriously.” Dallon tilted his head to look up at Brendon and smiled playfully. “I never thought I’d be a sentimental, I love you kind of person. And I’m not, really. It feels like something that I shouldn’t just throw out there. Like it’s too special. Actions speak louder than words, anyway.” He rested his hands on his chest, fingers laced politely together as Brendon smiled down at him, the camera still in his hand. “I like hearing you say it, though. It’s one of those things that makes me all warm every time I hear it.”

“Well, I like saying it a lot. Cause I mean it.” Brendon reached down to lay a hand on the side of Dallon’s face, toeing in between his legs to tangle their limbs together inextricably. “I just never thought I would be in this place. In love. Seems so impossible.” He brushed his thumb over Dallon’s cheek, warm from the sun. “But it is special to me too. With you...” All of a sudden he paused, and Dallon quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Everything is special? You can say your clichés, baby, I won’t judge.” Brendon blushed but beamed back at him nonetheless, leaning down to press their lips together. “No, I get what you mean. I think everything is special with you too.”

Brendon giggled and slid Dallon’s sunglasses down to cover his eyes, letting his fingertips linger on his face. Brendon didn’t care how cliché it was. He was so immensely in love with him. “God, what a dork.” He mimicked, and Dallon laughed over the sound of the waves crashing nearby. “You know, you’re over here talking about how silly you think cheesy sentiments are, but you’re the one who planned our wedding, so. Think about that.”

“I’m a man of many hats, Brendon.” Dallon reminded before he pulled him down for a kiss, smiling against his mouth, and said, “I hope it doesn't come across as me not meaning it, because I do. I just like to show you more than tell you.”

“I know.” Brendon smiled, because he knew Dallon was sentimental. It was part of his charm. “I mean, a boy that courts someone for years and says all this cliché, ideal boyfriend shit has to mean it.“ He poked him in the side. ”For the record, I know you love me. And I know you want to keep our magic. This world needs a little more of that. So I’m gonna keep telling you that I love you, and you’re gonna keep saying romantic things and proving it over and over to validate me. That’s just how we work. And I happen to like it just how it is.”

“I do too.” Dallon smiled and shifted to sit up on his elbows suddenly, pushing his sunglasses back up into his hair. “Hey, I wanna talk to you about something.”

Brendon shifted uncomfortably, he hated conversations that started like that. “Okay...?”

“So, uh. Today you mentioned something about my body. And I know you know about my issues with eating, so I just wanted to talk about it for a second. My insecurity. And how this summer has been a really big deal for me. Having sex and whatever. It was a big step. So thank you for being cool about it. Y’know, not body shaming me or saying anything about my being insecure. It means a lot that I feel like I can trust you with my body.”

“Dallon, you know me. Do you really think I’d ever criticize you?” He asked carefully, and Dallon shrugged, shaking his head though he seemed unsure. “No. Look. I think you’re gorgeous the way you are, and I don’t think you need to change or be insecure. But— and not to get too mushy here— when I say I love you, I love all of you.” He placed a hand on his stomach to prove a point and Dallon sat up a little like he was prepared to get defensive. And it was a little too close for comfort, Brendon could feel the way he tensed up at the touch, stomach taut and barely relaxed. But he just shook his head carefully like he couldn’t believe the fact that Dallon could ever look in the mirror and think something negative about himself.

“It’s just not that simple.” He tried to explain, but knew that was hard for somebody who couldn’t really see where he was coming from. “I just… don’t feel like I belong in my body sometimes. Because I feel like I’m not who I’m supposed to be. Like I don’t look the way I’m supposed to look.”

“There’s not a specific way to look, Dal,” Brendon told him gently, brushing hair out of his eyes. “But for the record, I love the way you look. Even if you were like, a gremlin or something, I would still love the way you look. Cause I love you.”

They laughed in unison, and Dallon’s eyes softened as he realized how much he meant it. Brendon loved him. He loved him. He never knew how soon he’d find out what it felt like to love someone who loved him back so viscerally.

“I’m not always going to be what you bargained for,” Dallon reasoned quietly.

“Sometimes I like to roll with the punches.” He leaned down to bump his nose against Dallon’s chin, tilting it upward to plant a kiss to his throat. Dallon smiled subconsciously and let his eyes wander up toward the clear blue sky, where seagulls soared above him and cut through the cloudless atmosphere. “I’m so lucky.” He whispered, because he appreciated everything he had. Everything that Dallon was.

Dallon reached up to slide his hand around the side of Brendon’s neck, swiping a thumb up under his ear. Brendon had never really been all that lucky, not in the past. But Dallon had shown up just when he needed him. And Brendon considered that pretty damn lucky.

Brendon didn’t realize it, but he came at the right time too.

“I am too,” Dallon whispered back, reaching out to touch him.

* * *

The atmosphere was hazy with a fog that didn’t seem to lift and Brendon peered through it, still tired as he followed Dallon down the beach. It was ominous in its own way, a peculiar welcome to the final day of a trip. The entire beach vacant, left just for the two of them.

They walked hand in hand through the nubilous air, Brendon squinting and Dallon smiling. Dallon loved the beach, could see the virtue in every little thing, and to his left Brendon was thinking about how the ocean could very well swallow him up and how he couldn’t see and how he had to sit in a car for over five hours.

Dallon stopped to take a few photos and Brendon let him go, staying behind to watch him like he was the only thing there. Dreamily, Dallon asked, “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Brendon nodded gently, his eyes still fixed on the boy before him. “Yeah, it is.”

He turned to look at Brendon with a smile, and Brendon dropped their towels onto the sand.

“Let’s go swimming. Come on.” Dallon extended a hand to him, as if the past two days and everything Brendon had said hadn't happened. As if he didn’t know of his fear, or as if he were assuming it had been conquered. They’d only been to the beach when it was crowded. Now it was too early in the morning, nobody around, and if they got lost in the waves then nobody would be there to save them.

“I’m okay here.”

Dallon looked at him incredulously. “Brendon Urie, it is our last day of summer vacation, are you telling me you don’t wanna swim with me?”

Brendon folded his arms across his chest, nodding timidly as the fog surrounded them like a barrier. “There’s no one here.” He pointed out. It was just the three of them. Brendon, Dallon, and the ocean.

“Exactly! We have the whole ocean to ourselves!” Dallon made a sweeping gesture and grinned widely, as if a smile would convince Brendon.

“I don’t have my bathing suit on.” He added feebly, trying another excuse.

Dallon wasn’t convinced. “So what?”

Finally he dropped his hands to his sides and quipped, “Have you ever seen the opening scene of Jaws? The girl goes to the beach with a guy when no one else is around and she gets eaten by a shark.” Dallon quirked an eyebrow and crossed his arms with an amused half smile on his face, not quite getting it. Brendon stomped his foot like a child. “I’m the girl in this relationship, Dallon!”

“I think the point is that there are no girls in this relationship.” Smartass. “And the shark from Jaws is all the way up in Massachusetts! And dead. And fake. It won’t getcha, babe.”

Brendon rolled his eyes and crossed his arms again, sticking to his puerility. He'd let Dallon have his way before, but tackling this beast so early was crossing lines. What if they woke it? “I’m still not taking any chances.”

“Hm.” Dallon’s eyes examined Brendon’s timid stance for a moment, watching the way the breeze blew his hair and the hem of his shirt. He seemed to fit in with the scene. Standing on the sand with the dull sky behind him, staring Dallon down as if it were a contest. It wasn’t. Not really.

Dallon raised his camera to take a photo of him and Brendon raised an eyebrow in response, but said nothing as he observed him. Dallon found the beauty in absolutely everything. Brendon never understood how he did that.

He turned to look at the ocean, just as he’d left it the night before. There was an entire world that he had yet to discover. An entire world, and not even scientists had found it yet. He’d read about the myths of the ocean before. Mermaids and sirens and sea monsters. How could anybody know anything for sure? There was too much world and not enough time to explore it all. That would be Brendon’s one wish: to explore every nook and cranny of the earth he’d made a home in.

Dallon’s voice came to him as if in a dream. “You always seem to be playing it safe. Always boxed into your own little world.”

Brendon looked over at him, standing there like he knew something Brendon didn’t. Brendon wanted to find out what it was. What made him stand that way. Confident. Tall. Sure of himself. Brendon wanted to be that sure. “I’m not boxed in. I could leave my safe little world whenever I want to. I just choose not to.”

A conniving smile met his lips. “Is that so?”

Brendon nodded promptly. “Yes.”

Dallon took a few steps forward like he had something to say. He grabbed the strap of his camera and pulled it off, toeing off his shoes and socks. He put his camera down, following with his shirt, and Brendon watched him, wordless, as he began to unbutton his jeans.

Confused, Brendon asked, “What are you doing?”

“We...” Dallon pulled down his jeans, kicking them off and into the pile. “Are going swimming.”

Brendon’s eyebrows knit up in confusion. “In our underwear?”

Dallon shook his head as if that were a ridiculous question to ask. “No.” And just when Brendon thought he couldn’t surprise him any more than he already had, he tugged his boxers down in one swift movement and started walking backward toward the shore. “Naked.”

Brendon’s eyes widened, and Dallon tossed his boxers into the pile of clothes in the sand. No, no way. “Skinny dipping?!”

Dallon smirked and raised a daunting eyebrow, teasing. “That’s what the kids call it, yes.”

Brendon shook his head, his mind already set. This was a terrible idea. He could think of so many reasons not to do this, and only one for them to do it: Dallon naked. But he was a minor, Dallon wasn't, and he was aware of the current state of their relationship, an eighteen-year-old and a seventeen-year-old, not under the age of consent but still in that pool of youth that Dallon had stepped out of. They couldn't be caught in such a compromising position like this. And public nudity was illegal. And there were hotels around, and houses, and roads, and sharks and crabs and... and Dallon naked. “We’re in public! This is illegal! We could get arrested, Dallon!”

Dallon gestured around him with a smile on his face. He looked so free, so happy, like he really belonged there, and maybe he did. Maybe Dallon was the most himself when he was free of restraint. “It’s six thirty on a Monday morning, Brendon! No one’s around. We won’t get in trouble. Don’t you wanna do something crazy before your senior year starts?”

Only at Dallon’s last few words did Brendon really think about it. It was his summer of trying new things. His summer of firsts. And maybe he wasn’t the most rebellious boy in the world, maybe he didn’t smoke or drink or do drugs, but Brendon was going to be eighteen in half a year. This was his last summer as a kid before he became an adult and had to start thinking about college and his future. How many chances would he get to do this? How many more mornings would he have an entire ocean all to himself with the love of his life?

A smile met his lips suddenly, like he'd finally realized, and he rushed to tug his shirt off over his head. Dallon let out a jubilant laugh and took another step back while Brendon unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, kicking his shoes vehemently toward Dallon’s. All at once he ran after Dallon, turning around and racing toward the water in a catch-me-if-you-can manner.

Brendon laughed too and tugged his boxers down, but tripped over them and had to catch himself before he fell. Dallon turned around with an ear to ear grin on his face and Brendon threw his boxers toward where the rest of their clothes were, as careless and free as he felt in the moment, and ran as fast as he could toward the rushing water.

Brendon leaped into his arms and wrapped his legs around his waist as soon as he reached him, holding on tight as the current pulled them back and forth. Dallon held him close and gave him a long, messy kiss on the lips, mostly teeth as they laughed in unison.

Buoyantly, Brendon giggled against his mouth, “It’s so cold.”

“You'll get used to it.” Dallon pulled away and Brendon laughed breathily in disbelief. He was taking risks, just like he had been for months. The only thing was that now he was finally realizing it.

He held Brendon tight as the waves pulled them in, chests pressed together and hearts beating rapidly as they greeted the world with laughter. Brendon was grinning, his eyes shining and wet hair stuck to his forehead, and blue eyes looked back at him with the purest look of adoration he'd ever seen. He let Brendon down just in time for a wave to hit them both and knock them over; Brendon reached out to grab his arm to keep him upright.

All of a sudden, Dallon leaned forward and kissed him hard and out of nowhere. His eyes slipped shut, and as Dallon gripped his hips beneath the crashing waves with the soft sand underneath their feet and the salt in their hair, Brendon swore that never in his life would he feel this incredibly free. He felt liberated. Unrestrained.

“Come on! The ocean waits for no man.” Dallon pulled away and gestured to the incoming waves, holding his hand tight, but Brendon was still apprehensive. He looked it too, because Dallon added, “I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

And despite how long he’d been doubting the world, thinking that nothing could save him from whatever it had in store for him, Brendon really, really believed it.

Maybe the great unknown wasn’t so scary after all.

* * *

“We could have sex on this beach right now,” Brendon stated blatantly from where he was wiping his legs off, laying back on a towel in the sand with his sunglasses on his nose, looking up at the sky as it turned a brighter blue. “You could grab a condom from your car and we could just do it right here and nobody would know.”

Dallon hummed, as if he were actually considering it. According to his schedule, they would be back on the road in twenty minutes. That was hardly enough time, not that he’d concede to it anyway. Dipping his head back to feel some sunshine on his skin, Dallon agreed, “We could.”

“I mean, I bet we could get away with it. Making love on the beach, how romantic is that?” Brendon mused thoughtfully, though he wasn’t serious. Just thinking about it.

Dallon squinted his eyes shut under his sunglasses. “Pretty romantic, if you like sand everywhere.”

“Yeah, I know. It sounds so unappealing.” Brendon sat up and pushed himself up to stand. He pulled his boxers on and Dallon watched, intrigued by the way his body moved and not bothering to hide it.

Brendon gave him a look and Dallon got up too, dressing quickly and gathering their things. It was time to go back to reality. People would start arriving to the beach soon, anyway. They didn’t want to ruin the magic. As Dallon followed him back to the car, he tilted his head back to look at where the sun was beginning to beat down.

Brendon climbed into the passenger seat and Dallon climbed into the driver’s. They went through the motions in silence, Brendon twisting up the heat, his messy hair still wet with saltwater, Dallon sticking the key in the ignition. Warm air blasted, and Dallon checked the weather on the GPS. “It’s raining in BC right now.” He announced, inputting Brendon’s address. “Say goodbye to the sunshine.”

The sunshine. It was what he would miss the most of a summer that changed everything. Time spent with a boy who had shown him young love, who had kissed all the doubt out of him and thrown it into a fireplace in Salt Lake City.

That summer had proven what Brendon had known deep down for months now: Dallon Weekes was his. It may not have been spoken out loud but it was there, intangible, self-defining, a probable elucidation of their affection. An example of young love at such a tender age. A sense of belonging to one another.

Like Bonnie and Clyde or Romeo and Juliet, star crossed lovers or maybe just starry-eyed paramours. An indescribable connection had bound the two together like they were tied at the wrists, unable to escape but on their own volition. Selfish, maybe. Possessive, absolutely. But Brendon knew. Dallon Weekes was his, because there were a million things in the world he couldn’t claim for his own, but this was the one he could. His person. Someone who loved him back. No amount of nominal metaphors or comparisons to lovers in classic literature could ever measure up to what was between them.

Brendon dipped his head and smiled, eyes full of adoration. Because he didn’t know a lot, but there was one thing he did know: Brendon was Dallon’s too, whether he liked it or not. “I have all the sunshine I need.”


	26. Chapter 25: Disparity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the shift!!!!!!!!!!!!

Where did summer go? He couldn’t help but wonder as he dragged a brush through dark locks of hair, his eyes slipping into that unseeing, staring into space kind of vortex as he looked at himself in the mirror. He was so much happier twenty-four hours ago. That was concerning. Summer Brendon was just such a good phenomenon. He wished he could shrink him down and slip him in his back pocket so he could whisper advice in his ear. How to Be Happy with Summer Brendon: the name of his book was practically calling to him.

Dallon was sitting patiently at the counter when Brendon trotted downstairs, his backpack prepared for the first day and slung over his shoulder. Dallon already had a coffee in front of him and was waiting patiently like it were routine as an anxious Brendon set his bag down. "Hi. You look cute. Happy first day."

"Hi. Happy first day. You look cuter." Dallon tugged on the shirt Brendon had gone back and forth with all morning, a black shirt with pandas on it and his favorite jeans. It was senior year and he knew people would judge him but after this summer, he wasn't sure he could find it in him to care. He was the Brendon Urie he wanted to be now. He wasn't the Brendon Urie people thought he was. "How was your night?"

"Okay. I'm in a good mood. I think it's gonna be a good day." He wrapped his arms around Dallon's neck, feeling bold as he had been for months. "How was your night? Have you eaten?"

"Fine, my mom and I had dinner together and it was really nice. I slept well, too. I think you might be right about today. And no, I'm waiting for you." He gestured toward the empty corner booth as Brendon slid his fingers into his hair, never missing a beat. “You wanna have breakfast?”

“Yeah, sure.” Brendon grinned as he headed toward the booth and claimed a seat. Dallon followed, still smiling that stupid perfect smile, and as they lived in sync they simultaneously set their bags down.

Anxiety stirred in his stomach as he tilted his head to the side and looked an easygoing Dallon over as he fixated his gaze on the menu in front of him, though by now he knew it by heart. His hair fell in his face carelessly, and Brendon found himself frowning. He knew Dallon was nervous too. They'd talked about it. He just didn't look it.

Dallon ordered a Dr. Pepper with his breakfast and Brendon smiled despite the back to school jitters he got every year, though he knew the routine. Brendon's school years were defined by what other people thought of him. Other people's actions. Dallon had shut that down long ago.

Dallon was a realist. Brendon was boxed into his own little world. He had a lot more to learn; he just didn't know that it wasn't all taught in a classroom.

Still, Brendon was bouncing his leg up and down against the dashboard while Dallon drove him to school in silence. He scratched at the knee of his jeans irritably until they arrived, this feeling of dread looming in his stomach because he'd been pretending this wasn't coming. Senior year. Preparing for college and getting ready to change everything.

They compared schedules at lunch and Brendon was cautious, looking around for the people he knew were looking out for him too. He wanted this year to be different. He didn't want to be so scared. But people still gave him the oh my god, the gay little diner boy is wearing nail polish and talking to his boyfriend, how scandalous! look, despite how long it had been.

He’d kind of come out on a whim and since then he’d been the chosen one, as a few had labeled him. Or so he assumed. Because he was fragile and small and didn’t know how to fight back. Because once, their freshman year, someone had called Dallon a faggot in the hall and he turned right around and said that if he wanted a blowjob then all he had to do was ask, because the bold statement made the entire hallway turn heads, made the unknown attacker tuck himself away in embarrassment. Dallon had been notorious for the riposte for months, and that was the day Brendon claimed a boy he had never spoken to his hero.

Because once in the hallway somebody shoved a very obvious Tyler into a locker, and Tyler punched him so hard that he spent half the week in suspension. Because after all that, whoever was considering coming out just canceled the plan, because it was enough of a lesson. Because Brendon had a few strong role models, but he himself couldn’t be one. He never learned how to be. And that got him where he was now: still a target, just used to it.

A few muttered words in the hallway and some dirty looks were nothing he couldn’t handle, though. He just pushed aside all the anxiety and shrugged like he didn't care and held Dallon’s hand tighter. He had a shield this year: someone stronger than him. He had someone who lived in defiance. That, and the thought that in a few months, he’d be out for good, and everybody else would be just ghosts of his past.

They walked around the Historic District after school, talking about their summers until they took a seat at Tony's Pizza, still laughing at some story Ryan was telling as Brendon started playing with a menu like a distracted child. "So how were your days?" Ryan asked after they had ordered their drinks.

"It was okay." Brendon thumbed the laminated corner of the menu, kicking his feet at Ryan or Dallon’s under the table. “I just can’t believe that I’m still a central target for the high school jock’s hit list. I mean, I know I’m basically their wet dream, scrawny and small and so blatantly gay, but come on.”

“Did something happen?” Dallon asked, peeking up at him from the menu with worry clear on his face.

Brendon shrugged; it was getting harder for him to care anymore, he’d long since become desensitized. Every once in a while a few people showed up at the diner and poked fun or mumbled something about his being gay during class or in the halls, but it didn't matter anymore. Brendon was gay. He wasn’t hiding it; he’d fought his battles and waged his wars and he wouldn’t go back in the closet. Not for the insecure boys who had to pick on him to boost their egos and fragile masculinity. Not for anyone.

“Just people being people.”

“Hate when they do that.” Dallon pouted and Brendon landed a swift kick to his ankle under the table, ensuring that it was his. “But I get it. People are always tough on you. They’re jealous, or whatever. Because you’re cute and they’re not. Not to mention your adorable boyfriend.”

Dallon grabbed his drink and took a sip with a comically raised eyebrow, and Brendon pursed his lips. Somehow, the thought of the homophobic assholes who traipsed the halls searching for an innocent boy to tease being jealous of him didn’t seem very likely. “Yeah, I’m sure they’re just quaking with jealousy.”

“You never know. Closet cases.” Ryan added pointedly, but Brendon wouldn’t let himself think about it. Feeling alone was sad in itself, but being alone was worse. Knowing that the people who are supposed to love and support you unconditionally don’t agree with you and who you love... no, Brendon couldn’t think about that.

Instead, he turned to look at Dallon, who was taking a sip of his drink as he responded to a message on his phone with one thumb, ostensibly still listening to the conversation before him. Brendon was lucky that he had people who cared about him. He was lucky that all those years ago he got the support he needed to come to terms with who he was and educate his family on the do’s and don’ts. He was lucky that he had Dallon and his friends and his family. And he was lucky that he’d made it this far, unscathed.

“I love you guys,” Brendon said in almost a whisper, voice soft like he was realizing how much he meant it. Dallon looked up from his phone, placing it back down on the table, and Ryan’s eyes followed Brendon’s when they flickered between the two pairs. He meant it. He really did.

“I love you too,” Dallon answered, a little perplexed, as he reached under the table to slide his hand in Brendon’s. His eyes searched the big brown ones for any sign of discomfiture, but there was none. Brendon just needed to say what was on his mind. He shook his head and let out a sigh, perfectly content. What a good first day. Maybe Dallon was right, and this would set the year.

“I just... wouldn’t be me without you, is all.” He smiled at Dallon warmly like there was something he didn’t know, but was such a deep and visceral respect and adoration something someone could really know?

“Awe,” Ryan cooed, making kissy faces at a snuggly Brendon when he reached under the table to take Dallon's hand. But Brendon smiled, because it was something to smile at.

Just because the summer was gone didn’t mean Brendon had to be. Autumn was just around the corner. So was the cold weather. So were dreary storms. There were ups and downs, but Brendon was still Summer Brendon, except in the fall and the winter and the spring. He just had to remind himself of that sometimes. And, well, he had a few months. Now would be the perfect time to start anew.

* * *

After the first week, Brendon had slipped into a comfortable routine. He kept his head down in the halls and avoided the stares of people who were glad to have him back, if only to take out their frustrations in the form of dirty looks and, every once in a while, a snide remark. But it was a new year, and he decided that he would care less.

College applications were soon. He saw posters about it all over school. They were meant to help, but he found that they were really just making him feel sick to his stomach. He tried to reteach himself all of the things he had unlearned over the summer, everything was a blur in his brain, but he needed to keep his grades up. He needed to get into college. Any college.

He knew it was normal, his strange sense of being unable to comprehend schoolwork sometimes, but it made him feel stupid. Like he couldn't grasp the simplest of concepts and found trouble where no one else really did.

"Do you think I'm dumb?" Brendon asked, and Dallon looked up skeptically from the other side of the bed.

"No, boyfriend whom I love and respect, I don't think that you're dumb. Where is this coming from?"

"I don't know." Brendon groaned, flopping over onto his stomach. "I feel like my brain is melting. Does everybody feel like that?

"Sometimes." Dallon offered, and Brendon sighed dramatically, pushing his homework away. "Are you having an existential crisis?"

"Yes." Brendon groaned, and Dallon got up to join him. "This is so dumb. It's all just busy work at this point. I mean, we've been through school for twelve years. What else is there to learn?" He looked up to pout at him. "Sometimes I think it's just intended to make me feel shitty about the fact that I don't know how to do anything. Like, I know we have to do it and whatever, I get the whole going to school is the law thing, and I think it's an okay concept. Free education, getting to learn stuff, cool. I’m just tired and once I get into college, I don’t see why I’ll need school anymore.”

“I get it. The fact that we have to write an essay in four days doesn't prove anything. It just adds more stress. We're basically teaching ourselves at this point." Dallon stretched out on his bed and dipped his head to look at a despondent Brendon. "And shut up, you don't not know how to do anything. Don't put yourself down like that." He reached out to shove at Brendon's shoulder, and the boy smiled warmly; it wasn't true but he appreciated the sentiment. "Did you just call school a concept?"

Brendon giggled. "Yeah."

Dallon shoved him again, and Brendon tugged the blanket tighter around his curled-up body. "You know, you could just not go, and then you'll end up in one of those prison documentaries for disobeying the law of the education system."

Brendon grinned cheekily, scrunching up his nose. "Why are you so obsessed with those?" He asked, and Dallon shook his head as if to say he really didn't know, laughing quietly. "You're so weird."

"Yeah, yeah. You like it." And Brendon did. Dallon reached out to place a hand on his boyfriend’s side, and Brendon stretched out a little, content and soft and small. “Where are you thinking of applying for school?”

Brendon shrugged half-heartedly and reached out of his cocoon to twist a lock of Dallon’s hair in between his fingers. “Somewhere near home. I don’t wanna be away from my family and I still wanna work at the diner, so when the time comes, I’ll research colleges near here and apply. I’m trying to shut it out for as long as possible before I need to be responsible.” They exchanged smiles, because Dallon was doing the same. “What about you?”

“Well, there are some art schools in Nevada so I’m gonna tour a few and apply. I have to construct a portfolio this year, so I'll edit the photos we took this summer and send them in.” All of a sudden he sat up, making Brendon’s eyes follow him skeptically. “Speaking of, I have something for you.” He jumped up and hurried over to his desk while Brendon sat up, watching him retrieve a big black frame from the top drawer.

He handed the frame to Brendon, and his mouth fell open in disbelief as his fingers tightened around the edges. The photo he had taken of him at the beach that night in California: a shy smile on his lips, a smile meant just for him. A light blush on his cheeks and his gaze cast downward, his hood up to try and hide even though the boy in front of him already knew too much. Brendon hadn’t seen the picture before, but he looked... happy.

“Oh, wow.” He muttered, running his fingers gently over the glass as if afraid to break it. Dallon just smiled hopefully, waiting for a reaction, and Brendon didn’t know what to say. How could somebody love him so much? “Dallon.”

“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to take it, but I thought it would be nice to give to you. You were really happy this summer. I want you to be reminded of how happy you were. When you need it, y'know?” He was still smiling when Brendon looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed and heart beating rhythmically in his chest.

“God, leave it to you to capture something so goddamn rare.” He let out an airy laugh and reached out to pull Dallon into a hug by his shoulder, holding the frame against his chest. “Thank you, my boy. This is so sweet. It looks so good.” He pulled away only to smile down at himself. He looked like that?

And he did. That was what Dallon saw when he looked at him: a boy with a shy smile and a heart that beat for him. He knew because he saw it in Dallon too. “You make it look good. I just clicked a button and framed the photo.” He nudged his shoulder, and Brendon guessed he was right. This was all him.

“I was really happy this summer.” He grabbed at Dallon’s arm and pulled him close to sit beside him again so Dallon took the empty space on the bed and smiled to himself when Brendon rested his head on his shoulder. Summer was gone but not forgotten. It would be in his memory for a long, long time. “That’s your doing, I bet.”

“I bet.” Dallon mimicked with a hazy smile, tangling their fingers together carefully and resting them on Brendon’s knee. “You and I have a lot of fun together. And I’m glad we’re doing this.” Brendon averted his gaze toward Dallon’s in curiosity, meeting the pair of blue eyes that lingered on his own. “You and me.”

“You and me.” His three favorite words.

Dallon tilted his head to press his lips to the corner of Brendon’s mouth. Even after all those months Brendon still blushed at every touch, and Dallon reached up to run his fingers adoringly over the smooth skin on Brendon’s cheek. “I adore you, you know.”

Brendon watched him smile, the way his lips turned up just the tiniest bit, the way you had to squint to see it if you didn’t know better. “I adore you too, handsome."

Dallon nodded gently like Brendon had confirmed his suspicions, rubbing his thumb against Brendon's slowly, calculatedly. "So, hey, um. In light of recent events, I wanted to make sure you're okay. About the school year and the people and the transition. I mean, I don't know about you, but leaving the summer is weird, it feels weird, and now... I don't know. I wanna make sure you're okay."

Something in Brendon's eyes softened, and he set the frame aside. "I'm okay. I mean, things have changed. I wasn't expecting them to stay the same. People have said a few things to me, nothing different than what they usually say, and school sucks, and leaving the summer sucks."

His eyes flickered between Dallon's, searching for something he was sure he wouldn't find. A greater, deeper meaning to all of this. What was it all about? The routine and the hardships and the nights he spent staring at the ceiling, wondering why it all happened to him. All the nights of regret and self-deprecation and blaming that were in the months to come. Questions he had, left unanswered. Did they matter?

He decided that right now, they didn't. "But I was really, really happy. With you, I'm really, really happy." He leaned in to brush his lips against Dallon's ever so softly, so that they barely touched. "And I know that this year will be fine because I have you and our friends and our summer. I have us."

Dallon tilted his chin up to press his lips to Brendon's, making him smile warmly at the feeling of familiarity as he wrapped an arm around him. There was that gentle feeling he'd grown to know so well. And he meant it, too. The summer was behind them, months of getting to know each other and themselves, but Brendon would hold it close to his heart. He would hold Dallon close to his heart too, as long as he let him.

Brendon was smiling subtly to himself when he climbed the stairs that evening with the feeling of Dallon's lips ghosting on his own. He had the frame tucked under his arm safely, and he hardly kicked off his shoes in the front room before he poked his head into the living room, giving himself the chance to trip over them. He caught their attention just when he caught himself, and instead of assuring them that he was okay he just grinned up at them cheekily.

“Hey, I have something to give you guys.” He announced, stepping into the room with the frame in hand. His mom sat up, ostensibly forgetting about his little fall, and Brendon handed her the frame that Dallon had gifted him.

“Oh,” Brendon’s mother smiled at the photo and held it up for his dad to see. “Bren, this is beautiful. Did Dallon take it?”

“Uh-huh. He gave it to me today. He said he wants me to remember how happy I was. I feel like having a photo of me in my room would be kind of creepy, like I’m watching myself sleep, so...” He gestured to the wall awkwardly, and his mom jumped up.

“Sure, let’s hang it.” She carried it out of the living room and Brendon followed her to the hallway across from the kitchen, watching patiently as she replaced a framed photo of flowers with the one that Dallon had taken. “Perfect! Do we like it?” She asked, stepping back to observe it.

“We like it,” Brendon agreed. She grinned, gave him a pat on the shoulder, and looked satisfied with herself as she disappeared. But he lingered, staring at his own pink cheeks and wondering if this was really what he looked like to the rest of the world. Or maybe just to Dallon.

And as he stood there in the hallway, he smiled. It was a reminder of how happy he was, but it was a reminder of something else: that someone loved him. Out there, a boy with blue eyes and a golden heart loved him. And that was enough for him.

* * *

School meant nothing to Brendon for the next few days. His cognitive skills had been burned and melted until they were just a sticky, oozing mess in his brain. He was pretty sure he could feel them drip through his brainstem and down his spine too, though that could have been his imagination.

Senior year was labeled as the best year of the average high schooler’s life, but the way August had melted into September felt so forced that it was almost like the school year didn’t want to come. And it wasn’t a good start to the year, he thought, as his summer had been beautiful, and now he was stuck between the same four walls wondering where it had all gone.

The worse part was his peers. Because if the schoolwork wasn’t enough, the teasing never ceased, though it was a little pothole in his already rocky day. Barely noticeable. Even when diner boy put on his little show as he fulfilled his obligation to serve with a smile. On the days that Dallon was at the diner, he stared intimidatingly until they backed off, but Dallon wasn’t always around. And sometimes they took it too far. Sometimes Brendon had to clench his jaw and remind himself that he was not the opinions of people who didn’t know him.

Sometimes little pieces of Brendon bubbled up in him after having been gone too long. And he had managed to push the all too familiar feelings of not belonging away for the summer, because with just Dallon he felt like he did belong. But that little bit of him was slowly creeping back up. Feeling incomplete. Fragmented. It clawed at him every time someone shot a look his way, every time he caught sight of someone he knew had cruel intentions. Sometimes he didn’t want to let it affect him, but sometimes it did.

And sometimes he pushed it far underneath his bones until he could barely feel it. It had always been a habit, bottling things up, but it seemed to work. Things were melting into unwanted routine, the malicious gazes and afternoons at work and nights scribbling down homework he didn’t understand, and all of a sudden he was going days without seeing Dallon aside from rides home and sitting together in class and at lunch. He was going days without seeing the one person that made all the bad things disappear. That wasn’t a good combination when it was paired with all the bad things popping up again.

Spending time with Dallon felt pressuring now as they hadn't seen each other for days at a time, confined to four walls surrounded by work and impending applications and people who made things harder. He managed to coerce a busy Dallon to his house for dinner, his mother insisted, and he needed an excuse to see him, anyway. It was getting harder and harder to find time, all of a sudden.

Once tucked away up at the end of the hall, they settled down in Brendon’s bed with fingers interlocked and their eyes on each other’s, talking quietly like they had so much catching up to do. But eventually eyes flickered toward lips and suddenly talking took too much energy, so Brendon’s mouth found Dallon’s like it was meant to. And fuck, it was. In just a few weeks it had felt like so long since they’d held each other, kissed, sworn their love under their breaths. Brendon was almost forgetting the feeling of being kissed so hard he was left breathless.

Brendon missed the summer, missed the feeling of sand against his toes and salt on his skin and wind in his hair. He missed the beach and the lake and the natural light that filled Dallon’s room in the early mornings when he couldn’t trick himself into falling back asleep, even when Dallon had an arm wrapped around him and was breathing softly against the back of his neck. But now was okay too, really. As long as he got some time with him, as long as he had that little bit of freedom. That was good enough. Really.

"Your smile is breathtaking." Dallon thumbed Brendon's bottom lip gently when Brendon smiled up at him. His thumb grazed his lip, eyes eating him up, and his lips curled into the tiniest smirk that Brendon could barely decipher. "How do you do it?"

"How do I do what?" Brendon tilted his head back with an unknowing simper when Dallon crawled up to straddle him, capturing his body beneath his and practically pinning him down with fingers entwined against the mattress to steal yet another kiss. And there was nothing he could do about it except accept it, and he arched his back up into his touch with definitive want.

Letting out a quiet breath against his mouth, Dallon sighed, "Walk around and be this beautiful."

"Stop." Brendon squinted his eyes and dipped his head with a laugh to look away from Dallon as a blush rose to his cheeks.

Sometimes the whispers of people who thought him disgusting didn’t matter, because there was nothing wrong with this. Nothing could be wrong with something that made him feel such visceral happiness.

"Seriously. You're so pretty." Dallon leaned down to kiss his forehead, his nose, and then his mouth, all slow and languid like he had all the time in the world to worship Brendon, as if he couldn’t see the imperfections. But he loved those too, and Brendon was simply pretending. "How'd you get this pretty?"

Brendon hooked an arm around his neck with a smile and tangled nimble fingers in the hair just above the nape of his neck. Shrugging comically, he suggested, "Genetics?"

"Huh." Dallon laughed quietly, brushing a lock of hair out of Brendon's darkened eyes as brown flickered up into blue.

"Dinner!" Brendon's mother called suddenly from the bottom of the stairs in just about the most unnecessarily loud voice she could muster, just as Dallon was leaning down again. He ducked his head in defeat, his forehead against Brendon's, and let out a frustrated sigh.

Brendon groaned, and he knew Dallon chose his house for a reason but sometimes they had to weigh their options. Brendon's house was loud, and there was no wiggle room for alone time. If there was anywhere in this town to be away from the rest of the world then they would go, but they could only pay so much for macarons and all the good spots had been taken.

Brendon's mother had a system: if there was no answer, then she'd march right upstairs and make sure that her youngest child wasn't breaking the doors open rule. And he wasn't, he knew the lecture he'd get if he did, but that was just... what she did. She hovered. And she enforced rules, and she made Brendon crazy. And by association, Dallon went a little crazy too.

"Sorry." He apologized as Dallon shifted off of him and sat up, tugging on his hair and shooting Brendon a look that said not to worry about it. "Really. I've barely seen you this month. I know you don't want to, but maybe on the days that we actually get a break, we could go to your place. I mean, at least then we could look at each other without being interrupted every five minutes."

Brendon reached out to take Dallon's hand to pull himself up, but he didn't bother letting go. Dallon just shrugged, adjusting his clothes with one hand so not to create speculation. "Yeah, well, my mom is with her buddy right now and I really don't wanna be there."

Dallon had established early on that if Jack was there, then he wouldn't be; it was no man's land as far as he was concerned. They even shook on it, Brendon's house unless stated otherwise. And that was the last Dallon spoke of it, Brendon tried not to bring it up because of the way Dallon's shoulders tensed every time he did, the way he passive-aggressively shrugged and refused to elaborate. But Brendon was nosy, and he cared. Especially when Dallon’s wellbeing was involved.

"How are you doing with that, anyway?" Brendon asked the forbidden question as casually as he could muster and tried to tame his tousled hair before he followed Dallon out of his bedroom and down the hallway. He didn't have to say it, but they both knew it: Brendon's house was Dallon's place to go when he couldn't be home. These days, Dallon was spending more time trying not to be home, doing homework at the Coffee Cup or the back room of his mother's store or the library.

"I'm trying to be okay with it, you know, but it's not that simple. He was away all summer and that in itself made it feel a little better but now that he's back..." He stopped and shook his head suddenly like he was trying to get out of his mind. "I just don't wanna be home right now."

He said it like it was nothing, but Brendon knew it held more gravity. How he didn't want his father's presence to fall away every night that someone slept in the space he used to sleep in. How he didn't want to see a stranger try and fill the empty slot, as he had once called it in passing when Brendon accidentally asked where he had been all month in August. Brendon reached out to touch Dallon’s shoulder, a little token of his support, and Dallon turned to look at him. He was strong and all, but just in case.

"Hey, that's okay. Stay here as much as you need to. And if it counts for anything, I definitely wouldn't be handling it this well." He offered his support, but Dallon shrugged like it was no big deal. A good day, maybe, or maybe he was just trying to shut it out completely.

"Fake it till you make it," Dallon replied with a smile, and Brendon smiled back as he reached up to flatten the tufts of hair that were sticking up on Dallon's head. He'd coax more out of him later: keeping things bottled up was no good.

They exchanged silly grins before Brendon led him into the kitchen, where the smell of food filled their senses as everybody moved around the table in a cycle. Brendon went to get a drink for his boyfriend as the latter claimed the seat they always pulled up for him. Dallon had fallen into the cycle as easily as Brendon had once upon a time, the way the family moved on automatic in a perfect circuit. They were all in sync sometimes, and other times not so much.

"I love having dinner here. It's like eating food made by professional chefs all the time." Dallon said as Brendon's mother handed him a plate.

Brendon's dad laughed buoyantly and claimed his own seat at the head of the table. "Well, I don't know about professional."

"You own a diner." Dallon laughed too while Brendon placed a full glass of cold Dr. Pepper in front of him, spilling a little over the edge but enough so that his thumb caught it. Smiling a bit to himself, he thanked him, and Brendon pat the top of his head before he slipped into the seat beside him.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." He turned to Brendon's mom with a playful grin and held up his glass in a cheers. "Hear that, hon? I'm a professional."

She laughed at his enthusiasm and rolled her eyes with nothing but good intention. "We love having you, Dallon."

"And we love that Brendon has a social life now, too," Kyla added, holding up her glass in a ceremonious manner to cheers Brendon's minor accomplishment, but all her little brother did was shoot her a glare that told her to stop the teasing when he was around Dallon.

"Watch it." Their mom warned, but Kyla shrugged like it was nothing. She was his older sister and she teased him; it was what she did. And he was okay with it when he could bite back, when his parents and his boyfriend weren't watching. But, well, Dallon didn’t need to be reminded of how nobody liked him.

"I had a social life before," Brendon argued.

"I don't think Tyler counts as a social life," Matt added from the opposite side of the table.

"And only hanging out with your girlfriend is? Oh, wait, you don't have one." He countered defensively, getting a few oooh's out of his siblings and a disbelieving look from his mother. He saw Dallon duck his head so no one saw him laughing, but there was a smile on his face when Brendon glanced at him.

His mom pointed at him to tell him to keep it shut. "Brendon."

Brendon threw his hands up in exasperation, and Dallon half smiled at his dramatic nature. "He started it!"

"Guys, be nice. We have a guest." She gestured to Dallon, who lifted his head again. He'd gotten used to the snarky remarks between the siblings by now and, contrary to what Brendon’s mother believed, truly didn't mind it. He liked experiencing what a big family was like sometimes.

"Nah, Dallon's not a guest. He's family." Kara sat down across from Dallon and as he slid a hand into Brendon's under the table, he smiled back at her with genuine warmth, hoping the fact that he was grateful got across.

"So, boys." Brendon's mother cleared her throat, and Brendon glanced up from where he was innocently devouring his food to catch her sneak attack. "How's school going so far?"

"Fine." Brendon tugged his hand out of Dallon's to grab his glass. Dallon understood, instead placed his hand on Brendon's thigh, and only then did he realize his leg was shaking. He never signed up for the family interrogation but he was drafted every time.

"Good." Dallon added politely, patting Brendon's thigh to calm him down like he did when he was antsy. At least one of them was a gentleman about it, but Brendon would roll his eyes if he didn’t know better. School was school. Why bother talking about it?

"How are your classes? Are you liking them?" Brendon squirmed in his seat, already restless.

"Well, the teachers don't ask nearly as many questions as you do." He quipped, and his mom laughed as if he wasn’t being sardonic. Dallon chuckled too, but he brought the glass of soda to his lips so that no one would catch it. "They're fine."

She took a sip of her water and nodded respectfully, though she was eyeing Brendon like she was out to get him. "Seems to be the word of the evening."

Dallon smiled and pat his thigh again under the table to tell him that he'd answer, save him from idle conversation. "They're okay. We have most classes together, so it makes it all a little easier. Adapting to a new schedule, planning for college."

"Good." She nodded, that was what she wanted to hear. "And Bren, you're understanding?"

"Stop," Brendon warned, not daring to meet her eyes as he stared down at his plate. Asking about school was one thing, asking about Brendon getting it was another. His mom gave him a look of surprise, but said nothing as the room fell into an awkward silence of silverware clinking against plates. He really didn't like talking about that.

"So, Dal." Kara caught everyone's attention, cutting off all of the looks that Brendon was being given. "Do you know what you're doing next year?"

"Fingers crossed for art school. I think I'm gonna major in art and minor in literature or creative writing, probably, but I've still got this year to apply and everything, I'm not thinking much about it." He explained. College applications would be coming quick, and Dallon had to think about it eventually, but for the time being he was taking it easy. Putting it off. Brendon knew because he was doing the exact same. The only difference was that Brendon had no idea what was in store for his future. "Art isn't the best financially— for the future, I mean— but it's what I wanna do."

"As long as you're happy doing it." Brendon's dad told him respectfully. Brendon was patiently following the conversation but thinking about him and Dallon's future instead, Dallon’s art hanging up in their home, watching him paint on lazy Sunday mornings, and he didn't care about college when he knew that was how he was going to end up. Mixed up with Dallon in a cozy little place of their own.

"At least you know what you wanna pursue. When I was your age, I had no idea what I wanted to do in the future. You're a few steps ahead of the game." Kara added, which made Dallon smile a little bit and Brendon frown, as he had been reminded that he was a few steps behind. It wasn't on Dallon, really; he never considered himself someone who had his life together. And he certainly wasn't, just pretended. But at least he had a career field picked out.

"I guess." He shrugged modestly. "I've just been doing art all my life, and my parents always supported it. It's always been what I want to do." Dallon waved his fork around half-heartedly, and Brendon’s head was starting to hurt from thinking about the future. Maybe he should start considering what he wanted to do. Or maybe he should ignore responsibility and hope it went away like he had been doing for years.

"I think it's cool that you have talent and passion and you actually do something about it. So many people have talent that they don’t take advantage of." Matt chimed in. Dallon nodded and took another sip of his soda casually, and Brendon couldn’t understand how Dallon didn’t mind all the invasive questions. He was starting to get annoyed on Dallon’s behalf. Even his siblings were contributing; Brendon thought they were better than that.

"The problem is, when you have a career in the creative field, it's hard to find prosperity." Dallon figured.

"That's very true," Brendon's mother nodded.

"So what careers are there available, then?" Mason inquired.

"Oh, a lot of things. I mean, I could be a photographer or an art gallery organizer, art teacher, art therapist— though that one would require psychology too. And I've always found being a tattoo artist to be an interesting job." He laughed a little. "I know the church discourages tattoos, but-"

"We're not that Mormon, Dallon." Brendon interrupted, poking at his food, not just speaking for himself on that one. He'd established at some point in his early teenage years that he wasn't a part of the church, though his parents still made the occasional trip when they so desired. Brendon was lucky that they weren't so strict.

"Brendon's right." His dad added, and Dallon nodded in appreciation. "I've always liked tattoos. Self-expression."

"Right. Maybe I'll indulge in that, one day. Not getting a tattoo myself, but doing it for other people. I don't think I could commit to a piece of art on my body. I can't even commit to a piece of art on my wall for more than a couple of months at a time." Brendon smiled, because that one was true. "I think it could be a great job, though."

"Hey, can I get a tattoo?" Brendon chimed, sitting up in his seat suddenly like the idea was the best he'd ever had.

"No." His parents answered in unison, and he slumped down with a pout. So much for his greatest idea ever.

Kara half smiled at her little brother's dramatics. "Have you been looking into jobs with inexperience?"

"Um, not really." Dallon tilted his head back and forth as if to say so-so, and his boyfriend's parents looked at him again. They all knew what this was: time to talk about the future. See if he was good enough for their youngest. "But I have been helping out my mom at her store whenever I can, for extra money until I can get a job that hopefully isn't in retail. I've applied to artist's scholarships and have submitted things to galleries to see if I can be part of a show, so I'm not at a complete lull right now. And as for right now, I'm just kind of doing commissions. If somebody needs something, they pay me for it. It's kind of a good side thing. But mostly I just like doing it for me. Free therapy, I guess.”

"That's very admirable, Dallon." Brendon's mom commended.

He smiled down at his lap at all the attention, his hand returning to its place on Brendon’s thigh. Brendon smiled, watched Dallon blush at the seven pairs of eyes on him, hoped he remembered that this was what being in a big family was like, so take notes.

"At least you make something out of it." Brendon's dad added enthusiastically. Leave it to his boyfriend's family to give him all the attention he deserved. And Brendon had to agree; he was making something out of it, whether it was for him or for anyone else, he was using his talent and Brendon was proud of him. He knew well what he was capable of.

"Yeah, there are some benefits to being a good artist. I actually just got asked to paint the senior mural for the school." He smiled when Brendon's family congratulated him with claps and pats on the back. Brendon looked up at him in surprise, shocked that Dallon hadn't mentioned it. Had it really been that long since they'd talked?

“You did?" He asked incredulously. Dallon nodded, biting back his smile like he was trying to hide his excitement, but his red cheeks proved otherwise. "That's amazing, Dal."

"Congratulations! That's a big deal." His mom added just as Brendon was slipping his hand into Dallon’s.

"Thank you. Um, they're giving me five hundred dollars for it, along with a bunch of school related benefits, so.” He trailed off awkwardly, twirling his fork around in his fingers as everybody congratulated him again, enthusiastic though within reason.

Brendon closed his bedroom door behind himself as Dallon sat on the edge of his bed, reaching out for his hand. "Hey, congratulations. On the mural." He said quietly, accepting it and lingering in front of him before Dallon pulled him in close.

His crystal blue eyes were sparkling when they caught Brendon’s. "Thank you. I was gonna tell you first, they told me at the end of the day today and I completely spaced on it. I'm sorry."

"No, that's okay. We haven't really been seeing much of each other. I get it. I'm just really proud of you." Brendon sat beside him and pressed a brief kiss to his lips, leaving a smile in his wake. "Are you doing it alone?"

"Yeah. Unless you wanna help." He smiled hopefully.

"I have the artistic ability of a squirrel." He pat Dallon's chest in consolation. "But nice try."

"Hey, squirrels can be very artistic!" Dallon laughed, shoving his shoulder. They grinned at each other, and Dallon added a surprisingly solemn, "I don't think less of you, Bren, you know. For anything."

Brendon's eyebrows furrowed as he shifted to face a concerned looking Dallon, reaching out to tangle their fingers together with ease. "I didn't say you did."

"No, but I can tell you think it. But I don't. I don't care about your past or that I have to help you with school or that you don't know what you wanna do in the future. I barely know what I wanna do. So stop thinking that I don't view you as my equal because I do."

"God, you know me so fucking well." He let out a half laugh, and his boyfriend tilted his head to the side. The thing about Brendon was that he was easy to read, and Dallon was strangely clairvoyant, knew too much as Brendon knew too little. And maybe that had been an unfair balance, giving Dallon an advantage he'd already seemed to have, but that was their dynamic. Dallon knew things, and Brendon just... well, Dallon told him not to think of them as unequal. "I just... I hate that you can have such coherent, intelligent conversation with my family."

"I think it bodes well for me. And us." Dallon ran his hand up Brendon's back, letting his fingers dance against his shoulder blade where he arched his back into the careful touch. "They think I'm smart and capable, have my life sorted out, they like me. They want me in the family, and bam, we're married by the end of next year."

"Ah. So you do have it all sorted out." Brendon smiled playfully, but Dallon was only partly playing. Brendon didn't know but Dallon had spent way longer than he'd assume praying that Brendon's family would like him. A gay relationship was walking on thin ice, especially to the Mormon parents of the boy he was seeing, but, well. Brendon had made it clear that his parents were nothing if not supportive and would love Dallon like their own. He just wanted them to like him, was all. "I just feel like I'm not smart enough sometimes, you know? Even for my family."

"Hey, stop. You can't judge yourself based on other people. You're very smart, Brendon." He moved his hand up to scratch at the back of his neck, touching him subtly when he thought Brendon wouldn't notice. He always did. "Don't put yourself down, okay? You're worth so much more than you think. C'mere."

Dallon tugged him onto his lap, and Brendon swung one leg over Dallon's thighs as he wrapped both hands around his neck. They bumped their noses together like a warm greeting after a long day, week, month, and Dallon's tenacity on Brendon's hips was tight when their lips met in the middle. Brendon let himself smile, for his cheeks were flaring up in content. And maybe he would listen for once. Maybe he would let go of his old ghosts, and maybe he would embrace his disparity. Maybe there was beauty found where he wasn't even looking.

Brendon opened his mouth against his boyfriend's welcomingly when their heads lolled to the side, biting back a smile when he breathed into him like he needed resuscitation. There was nothing wrong with this. There couldn't be. And Brendon was slowly forgetting about everything he couldn't change.

Sighing against his lips, Brendon whispered, "I'm proud of you."

"I'm proud of you too," Dallon answered, because it was the truth.

* * *

Brendon was back to his cautious routine when Monday rolled around and a feeling of consternation dwelled in the pit of his stomach like a raincloud. Things were the same, the looks he hardly earned cast his way when he passed, sometimes alone and sometimes with his hand tucked in Dallon's. The feeling of missing Dallon when his weekend was spent working too much to catch a break, the feeling of missing his bed just a little bit more. The feeling of inferiority as he caught Dallon that afternoon, beginning to work on the school's mural.

“Hey, Dallon?” Brendon asked as he thumbed the pages of his astronomy textbook mindlessly, letting his mind drift to what he’d been trying to avoid all day. He tried to keep it away from Dallon, avoid the sympathetic look he would get. He tried not to let it bother him after all these years. But for some reason it just wouldn’t let up, the way people glared at him in the halls, made comments like they knew him, bumped into him when he was alone and vulnerable.

Dallon peeked up at him. “What’s up, bumblebee?”

“Do people ever say shit to you? About being gay, I mean. Because lately...” He shifted in his spot as Dallon shut his textbook and left Brendon’s desk without a second thought to join him on the bed. “Lately a lot of people have been mean to me and I don’t know why. And I... I was wondering if people do the same thing to you.”

With a little frown, Dallon shrugged. “Not often. I mean, sometimes I hear things, and sometimes I get dirty looks from people who see me holding your hand in the hallway, but a lot of the time I ignore it. I’ve seen people pick on you, at the diner and stuff, but... it seems like it’s been worse since we got back to school.”

“It has been. And I don’t get it. I mean, last year wasn’t great, and then we started dating and I didn’t pay attention to it. Now it’s like all this shit is coming back up and... I wanted an easy year. I wanted a better year.” He tugged aimlessly at the throw blanket on his bed. “Sometimes I can shut it out. And sometimes I can’t. And now that summer is over and I’m back in school, something feels wrong. I feel like people are getting to me and the workload I have is getting to me and you and I are estranged.”

Dallon tilted his head to the side, guilty for getting in Brendon's head. “No, baby, c’mere.” Dallon reached out to place a hand on his side, pulling him into a hug. “I get it, the weird transition from summer to fall. Going back to school and facing people who hate you for no reason. I know you and I haven’t seen each other much but we’re okay. We have each other. I don’t want you to feel alone. Not now, not ever.” He pulled away to thumb Brendon’s cheek. "Okay?"

"Yeah. I just miss you." He admitted. And it was the truth, because it felt like he had barely seen him, losing that freedom of summer and trying to find a way to balance responsibilities. It felt like sometimes they were dancing on borrowed time, and whoever owned it was trying to steal it back before its end.

"I miss you too, Bren, and I promise I'm gonna make more of an effort. How about tomorrow night we go to The Dillinger, just you and me, and we can spend some time together and not talk about school?"

"Yeah. Okay." They hadn't been on a date in weeks, now that he mentioned it, and Brendon loved The Dillinger, anyway. "That sounds good."

"Good." He kissed him and Brendon kissed back uneasily, inexplicably anxious. “Are you okay? With everything that's going on at school, I mean?"

Brendon shrugged. It wasn’t like he was getting beaten up every day. Just teased. Sometimes a shove here and there, if they were feeling ambitious. But how far would it have to go before he reached his breaking point? “People have always kind of attacked me."

There was hesitance in Dallon's eyes as he watched Brendon, trying to imagine the worst of it. "Has anyone... hurt you?"

"No. I mean, not usually. Once, like, sophomore year, some kid shoved me into a sink really hard, and I had to go to the hospital for internal bleeding and shit. It wasn't good." Dallon opened his mouth but Brendon interrupted, "I'm okay. It was forever ago. Other than that no one has ever really done any damage. They just say mean stuff. And it’s nothing new, I’ve gotten used to it, and when I’m not in school it’s barely an issue. But then I get back and it’s like this cycle of bullying that doesn’t end. And it’s just... they’re all guys I don’t know. And I shouldn’t let what people think or say or do define me but it just... it’s unfair. I know our school isn’t exactly queer friendly but I just wish that they’d let up.”

“I do too, Bren." He thumbed his cheek carefully, tried not to imagine him under fluorescent lights in a hospital gown with an IV in his arm because he tended to bleed a lot and he was always fragile, anyway. "But y’know, I think a lot of it is them being uneducated and close-minded. Sometimes the idea that there are people who exist outside their realm of understanding isn’t one that they can comprehend. So they do what they can to make you feel bad about it. People have made comments to me before, and more than once in the past few weeks I’ve had to tell someone to knock it off. Maybe it’s that their summers were boring without seeing us to mock, maybe they saw us together a few times, or social media, I don't know. But whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. People only have as much control over you as you allow them to. You should permit them none.”

With that, Dallon leaned in to catch his lips in a kiss, and Brendon tried to smile. Dallon was always right. For years he’d been the boy that people went to for a laugh because it was just too damn easy. He didn’t want it to be easy anymore. He was going to allow change once and for all. He just... had to figure out how.

* * *

The Dillinger was bustling with people as Brendon claimed a table for two in the back, ordering a Sprite and telling them that he'd be meeting someone. Dallon would be there any minute. And he told himself that five minutes later, and ten, and when the waitress came by to check if he was sure his date was on their way.

Brendon checked his phone for the tenth time, shaking his foot and staring down at the table to avoid the gazes of the waitresses. He and Dallon had agreed to meet at six o'clock and it was six thirty now, Dallon was never late, and he never forgot, either, not when it came to him and Brendon. He knew it was stupid, skipping a night of homework and studying for a test the next day, but Dallon had some things to do after school and he promised to be there at six. He promised, so why the hell wasn't he here?

Every time the door opened Brendon looked up to see if it was him, pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, and he could hear it now, the rumors at school, Brendon Urie stood up by his own boyfriend, trouble in paradise, but Dallon didn't have bad intentions, he knew he didn't. He couldn't. And sure enough, as Brendon was finishing his first glass of soda, Dallon was hurrying over to the table, peeling his jacket off and dropping it on the back of his seat.

"Hi. I'm so sorry I'm late. You're still here."

Brendon forced a smile, but he really wanted to cry. "Still here." He agreed, but why the hell was he?

He bent down to kiss Brendon's cheek and took the seat across from him, knew the look on his face well enough to know he was miserable. "I'm so sorry, there was so much traffic on the parkway, there was an accident, a car was literally in flames. I think everyone's okay, but, you know. I had a panic attack because, like, you know me with accidents. It happened like, six cars in front of me. Four different cars were involved. It was really bad."

"Oh." Brendon's eyes softened, and he should have had a little more faith in him. "Dal, I'm sorry."

"I'm okay, accidents happen, quite literally, and as for the panic attack thing, it happens all the time and I'm used to it. I just feel terrible. I called my mom to tell her I was alright because it was on the news and obviously she freaks out about that stuff and then I went to call you and literally as I was clicking your number my phone died. I tried taking a side road and it fucked me even more." He covered his face with his hands. "I'm not trying to make excuses. I hate doing that. I hate being late and I always try to leave early but I was strapped for time and I really wanted to be here for you and I hate this. I hate not seeing you. I hate the universe fucking us so hard. I think it's homophobic. I really do." Brendon laughed despite himself, and Dallon smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I love you and I'm sorry. I'm a horrible boyfriend."

"No you're not." Brendon refuted, playing with the straw in his drink and trying not to cry because Dallon was right, the universe had suddenly done a three sixty and was back to being against him, them, their relationship. And Dallon still cried every time he saw an accident and Brendon still cried every time his anxiety got the better of him, and it was stupid and unfair and he wished they had just stayed in tonight. "I just wish you'd found a way to tell me so I didn't look like a pathetic high school girl getting stood up by the quarterback because he asked her out on a dare."

"You watch too many high school movies. And I would never stand you up. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you." Dallon took his hand over the table and Brendon met his eyes with reluctance, but he couldn't stay mad at him when he smiled like that. "I will, Bren, I promise. I pinky swear. On Friday after school we'll go to Grandma Daisy's and get ice cream and you can stay over. Or we can do whatever you wanna do."

"No, we can do ice cream. I like ice cream." Brendon half smiled, knew Dallon was bribing him, but he was all he had right now. He couldn't let himself be upset over something so stupid. "But from now on, let's just... not meet at places."

"Deal." Dallon shook his hand, eyes sparkling, and Brendon took a deep breath, reminding himself that things were okay. Things were fine.


	27. Chapter 26: In the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW self-harm!!! proceed with caution fellas

Being back at school meant regulating a schedule. September ceased to exist like all the past Septembers, for all it was was getting back into the swing of things for the new school year and seeing everybody raving about how fall sports were starting and the pep rally was coming up and whatever. Brendon didn’t particularly care, never really had, so this year he was keeping up his tradition of staying away from school spirit in its entirety.

Brendon decided that his senior year was going to go by in a breeze; he would do his schoolwork and work at the diner and save his money until after graduation for the plans he'd make that summer. He'd spend time with the people he loved and keep his head down and graduate, get out of that school, actually set a goal. Long term and short term. His short-term goal was to ignore every bad thing anybody said to him at school and at work when they bothered to stop by, because he was sick of letting words define him. They didn't define him. He wanted to find something to define himself.

"I just don't want to spend time with him. Is it really my fault?!" Dallon ranted, waving his hands around while Brendon scribbled in the corner of his paper, not particularly listening. He got in his head sometimes, thinking about things that had nothing to do with their math lesson. Dallon was spending yet another class talking about things he couldn't change, taking advantage of their not having assigned seats where Brendon couldn't get out of listening. It wasn't that he minded, just that the conversation was getting old, and he still never knew what to say because there was no agenda to Dallon's anger.

Brendon shook his head half-heartedly and continued to scribble in his answers to the classwork once ink started to flow. "You shouldn't have to if you don't want to."

Dallon folded his arms petulantly and gave him an irritated look, if Brendon bothered to glance up from his paper to catch it. "I know that's like, the default answer, but I kind of want a real one. What's going on with you?"

Brendon was only half listening in the first place but that got his attention. He looked up at his boyfriend, still giving him a cocked eyebrow, half frowning because Brendon tended not to listen when he should. "I'm sorry." He apologized, setting his pen down for collateral. "My mind is occupied."

Dallon pouted. "Unoccupy it! I need you."

Brendon half smiled, that was always nice to hear, and reached out to place his fingers loosely on Dallon's. "I'm sorry. What's going on?"

Dallon sighed, and Brendon raised his eyebrows to promise he was listening this time. "He was gone last month for work. And over the summer I barely saw him. And he just got home, and my mom is making me have dinner with them tonight and I told her I was busy to try and get out of it and she said she doesn't care because she really wants me to be there. And I know it's useless to complain about it and I know it's only one night but I just... I'm uncomfortable. And unhappy. And no one wants me when I'm unhappy."

"Come on, I always want you.” He said, and Dallon didn't smile, and Brendon guessed he wasn't playing around. “Okay. Seriously, Dal, Jack isn't horrible." He tried to reason, though he knew he shouldn't give logical responses but instead agree without question. Brendon just wasn't good at not arguing for what he believed in.

"Yes he is!"

"Dallon, Brendon, more solving problems, less creating them." Ms. Rivas called out from her desk, and Brendon hadn't even realized she'd been listening.

Dallon rolled his eyes at the unnecessary callout and picked up his pencil to answer one of the equations half-heartedly. Lowering his voice, he added, "I just don't like him, okay? I don't expect you to understand why but I don't. And I don't want to feel like spending time with him is my obligation when it makes me so uncomfortable."

"No, I know, I get it. But like... you're her only son. Your mom, I mean. I guess you figured that." He added when Dallon glanced up at him. "And as your mom's only son it's your obligation to like— be there for her. Support her. You can be angry about it but go to dinner and be nice because she supports you too, Dallon. She's a Mormon mother who loves her gay son unconditionally. That's kickass and you know it."

"I know, Brendon, I'm not against my mom. It has nothing to do with that." He said, exasperated.

"But the least you can do is go to dinner with her and her boyfriend, Dallon. It's the least you could do." Brendon refuted, Dallon knew he was right, and he looked away again because he wouldn't admit it. "How about— after dinner, you can come out with me, and we'll go for a ride. I'll even let you kiss me if you want."

"You drive a hard bargain," Dallon whispered, looking up to wrinkle his nose playfully when Brendon smiled at him hopefully. "Fine, Urie, you win. I'll text you when. Just, y'know. Pray for me." He poked at his hand with his pencil, wanting to thank him for caring with more than words but not exactly knowing how. "Thanks, Bren."

"Sure. Now come on, Dallon, more solving problems, less creating them." He bumped his pen against Dallon's pencil and Dallon held it up, using it as a sword to duel with him in between them where their teacher couldn't see.

"Dude, she says that one more time and I'll create one hell of a problem." He pulled his pencil away before he could get them in even more trouble and started to jot down a couple of numbers, so Brendon glanced at his paper to see what he was writing and copied it down. "What about you? What's got that pretty head of yours so occupied?"

"Oh, nothing in particular. Just thinking about this year. Graduation and work and college. And how I'm gonna get in, cause I have to start applying but I haven't even written the essay yet and I don't have any schools on my list and I have no idea what I wanna do. The usual stuff." He smiled contradictorily when he caught Dallon's gaze.

"Well, you've got some time. And I'll help you out with applying and stuff." He offered, pushing his paper toward Brendon to let him copy because he couldn't be bothered to mind when it was just busy work. "And if you don't wanna go out tonight, you don't have to."

"No, I'd love to go out. Don't worry about it. I have to work the morning shift tomorrow though so I can't stay over afterward. I guess you could come to me and leave early, but you're not gonna wanna wake up early, so..." Dallon made a face, shaking his head and then smiling when Brendon did too. "But you'll be in my thoughts. And in my heart." He pat his chest playfully. "And in my prayers, apparently."

Dallon snorted, returning to the equations. "Like God would listen to you."

Brendon punched his arm, but laughed nonetheless. "Hey!"

Dallon laughed too, regardless of their teacher's glare, and gave him a thankful smile that he hoped got across because he knew Brendon had his best interest at heart. It was just that it was such a contradiction, her happiness or his, and he never knew what to choose. Either way someone lost. Either way he would end up guilty.

Dallon wasn't smiling when he picked Brendon up that night, and as Brendon climbed into the passenger seat, he said a quiet hello but nothing else. Brendon had learned enough about Dallon to know that he wasn't good at being open, learned how to sneak his way past his walls even when they guarded the most hidden parts of him. His family was something he protected well.

Dallon's mother was letting go of ghosts that Dallon still held on tight to. He felt isolated in a family where he should have felt safe. And it stung, and he could be as mad as he wanted, but he knew the score.

"So how was dinner?" Brendon asked about twenty minutes into a quiet drive up the parkway when Dallon had made it clear that he wasn't going to start talking first, carefully choosing his words and settling for not many because it was worse than he thought. Dallon was quiet for a second, only shrugged half-heartedly as he tapped his fingers distractingly against the steering wheel, and Brendon squirmed uncomfortably, knew he had crossed a line.

"I know I should be happy for her." He said vaguely. Brendon tugged at his seatbelt to give him more room to breathe and ran his thumbnail over the grooves in the fabric, eyes fixated on Dallon’s features, contoured by the moonlight as the sun was setting earlier these days. He looked softer there. More innocent, somehow. But innocence couldn’t be used in a world where innocence didn’t exist.

"But..." Brendon urged.

Dallon sighed and flicked his blinker on and off aimlessly as no one else was on the road, avoiding Brendon's eyes as they fixated on the road in front of him. He wasn't supposed to do that, Brendon didn't point out because he knew he knew. Highway lines disappeared underneath them and there was something he didn't want to say, Brendon could read it all over his face, could see it in the tension of his fingers gripping the wheel and squared shoulders and a locked jaw. There was something he didn't want to say; he was just trying to find more places to hide.

With another tired sigh he admitted what his silence had preceded, and Brendon found himself holding his breath. "But I'm not."

"Is he really that bad?" He asked, and Dallon looked at him dangerously. "I mean, you don't have to love him or anything, but tolerating him isn’t impossible. They've been dating just about the same amount of time that we have. I think that... I don't know, I think they might be realer than you think."

"Just because they've been together a long time doesn't mean they're good together. And just because he's dating my mom doesn't mean that he's gonna be my new dad. He's not." Dallon snapped, and Brendon knew he was crossing a line. He knew. It was just that Dallon dwelled on a lot of things sometimes, things that weren't good for him, and Brendon knew he did too but it was different when it was Dallon's family. It was different because it hurt harder. Dallon looked disgusted, almost, purely angry, at Brendon or the situation or his family, and Brendon tugged at his seatbelt, suddenly feeling like it was harder to breathe.

Brendon looked at him, obviously distraught, and said quietly, "I didn't say that, Dallon."

"I didn’t say you did." He replied, and an uncomfortable silence fell between the two.

Brendon stared at the dashboard, at the flicker of streetlamps that guided the way as Dallon turned off a random exit and onto a street that Brendon didn't recognize, not in Boulder City anymore. He wished he'd just left it alone, let Dallon figure it out himself. If he wanted to be stubborn then let him. He could make his own fate.

Dallon clucked his tongue suddenly, making Brendon look up from where he was counting the specks of dust on the dash. But he was quiet for a second, thinking, and Brendon looked down again, scared to speak because he knew this wasn't going to end well. "He was acting like he was my dad," Dallon said quietly, his voice stoic.

Brendon turned to look at his profile. "How so?"

"He kept saying shit that my dad used to say. Because my mom and my dad used to pick up on the things each other said. It was a thing. And I guess he's doing it too, and he's picking up on the things that my mom got from my dad, and it's just— it's unnerving. It's freaking me out. And he was pretending that he was interested in my life, which is even fucking worse. Asking about school and my art and you and my friends. I could've sworn that my dad's ghost gave him lessons on how to act like him."

"Maybe he was genuinely interested," Brendon suggested, though unlikely, and they both knew he didn’t mean it when he saw the way Dallon shook his head, looking away from the boy who was just trying to help but didn't.

"I might..." He began quietly but thought it over and paused. Brendon glanced at him, anticipating the rest though he didn't say it, just looked back at him hesitantly like he knew Brendon would get mad if he said it. Brendon knew he was probably right, but he hated that look as much as he could hate a look that came from Dallon. The look that said he was dangerous.

"What?" He urged like he was challenging him.

He shook his head dismissively. "Nothing. Never mind."

"Tell me," Brendon demanded, because he was sick of hiding. He thought they were too close to keep hiding. Thought Dallon said he trusted him.

Dallon had promised to stop keeping secrets but it was an empty promise, it had to be, because boys like Dallon didn't just give up their secrets so easily. Boys like Dallon said things they didn't mean. Brendon didn't know when he had realized that so suddenly.

Dallon sighed, Brendon knew it was directed at him this time, and it stung because he was only trying to help though maybe he should have never asked. He should have just stayed out of it. He should have learned months ago that nobody could interfere with Dallon's agenda. "I think I'm going to tell her that I'm uncomfortable with him and that I don't want her to be with him. When she first told me that she was starting to date, she told me that if I'm uncomfortable around one of the guys then I could tell her and she would do something about it. So I think I’m gonna tell her."

"That's not fair," Brendon argued without a second thought, and Dallon turned to stare at him with an unreadable look on his face but said nothing. He didn't know what to say. It wasn't Brendon's choice to make. It was silent for a minute, as Dallon pulled onto a vacant road with no streetlights, pitch black until Dallon flicked on his headlights and squinted through the shadows. The silence grew uncomfortable, or maybe it already had been, and Brendon sighed, tried to explain himself. "Look. Your mom is happy with him. Whether or not you realize that. And I know you're holding a grudge because of what happened to your dad but it isn't fair. Jack isn't your father, that's always going to be true, but he's not trying to be."

"You weren't there, Brendon." He snapped, and suddenly Brendon didn't know where they were.

Brendon glared ahead at the dark road and didn't know what to say. He had predicted this would go so differently, that after all this time maybe Dallon would try to listen, but there was no point in trying to predict anything because Dallon had never been easy to figure out. He'd known that from the start. "I know I wasn't."

"So stop pretending to know what's going on."

"I'm not pretending anything," Brendon defended himself. "I'm just saying, like... don't be angry at Jack because your mom fell for him. It’s not his fault.”

Dallon's knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel and Brendon held onto his seatbelt strap, about to tell him to calm down though Dallon wouldn't look him in the eye. "She didn't fall for him. She's just dating him. She was in love with my dad. You can’t... you can’t recreate that."

Brendon turned to look at him again, this time with sympathy because he hadn't thought about it. How heartbreaking this must be. Seeing his mother move on when his parent's love was all he knew. Idolizing his father and having that taken from him so early. That was traumatizing for a child. Especially a child like Dallon.

"Dallon." He said quietly, broken, like Dallon were a baby, like he was much more innocent than he was. Because he saw now that he was hurt, but not bandaging the wound and moving on would hurt him more in the long run. "We don't all just... have one chance. You can fall in love more than once. You can fall in love a million times."

"She's not in love with him." He said through clenched teeth. It didn't sound like Dallon, it sounded malicious, and Dallon wasn't malicious. He just sounded like he was trying to convince himself and not Brendon.

Brendon felt cold, and all of a sudden he didn’t look so innocent anymore.

"Or you're just in denial," Brendon said, not really meaning to say it out loud, and turned away to glare at the passing road. He felt bad for Dallon, could never imagine himself in the same situation. He had seen him crying in front of his father's grave and he had seen him vulnerable and exposed and open but this was different, somehow. More honest. Like they weren't trying to tiptoe around each other anymore, not caring that the other was fragile because neither had said it but both had caught on.

Some truths were hard to swallow. Brendon just didn't want to be a liar.

Dallon snapped his head to glare at Brendon murderously and though it was weak, he glared back. He'd never seen Dallon so angry. Not at him. "I'm not in denial." He hissed.

"Dallon, you need to get over it," Brendon spit it out before he could think about it, and then he stopped. It was the wrong thing to say. Everything he had said was the wrong thing to say. It flashed in his mind but he wouldn’t pull the alarm.

"I need to get over it," Dallon repeated, and Brendon could feel his hands start to tremble. He may as well have been sitting beside a stranger because he didn't know this Dallon. "I need to get over the fact that my father fucking died and now my mother is trying to replace him?! I need to get over that?!”

"She's not trying to replace him! Has it occurred to you that she might be lonely, Dallon? She's a grown woman that can make her own decisions! And she can't just get by living with her son her whole life. You need to let go of whatever grudge you have on the world and let your family be again. With or without your dad. It sucks and it's not fair but it's the way it is."

"I'm not gonna just forget him. He's my family. He's not... he's not gone, not to me." Tears filled his eyes, his face burning red with anger, glaring ahead like he was about to swerve and hit a tree out of spite. Brendon held onto his seatbelt, and Dallon shook his head. "God, fuck this. Fuck her if she's gonna try and replace him, and fuck him if he's going to act like my father because he's been with my mom for a couple of months and fuck you if you're gonna take their sides over mine."

"You know what, Dallon?" He snapped, turning to glare back at him. "I get that you're upset, your dad died, it sucks. But did you ever consider the fact that not everything is about you?! It's your mom's relationship! It’s not yours! It's not your decision to make!”

"And you don't think that affects me?"

"I didn't say that! Don't put words in my mouth! I'm just saying, it doesn't matter if it affects you." He threw his hands up in exasperation, and he hadn't meant to say it like that, to sound so harsh, but knew he couldn't take it back. They were burning bridges, and Brendon was afraid that they were at the end of their own with matches lit, standing on different sides, fighting a different war.

"It doesn't matter if it affects me." He repeated disdainfully through clenched teeth, his voice strained. There were tears in his eyes but he wouldn't cry. Not until everything was said and done.

"No, it doesn't matter! What matters is that your mom has moved on and you haven't."

"Well, I'm fucking sorry I haven't gotten over my father's death."

"Well, you should," Brendon snapped, but immediately regret it.

It wasn’t true. Of course it wasn't true. Brendon couldn't believe that he even said it. He couldn’t believe he let himself think it. But once it came out, it was out, and Dallon seemed to shrink in his place. A few tears slid down his cheeks, and Brendon had to look away, deciding that maybe he should just keep his stupid mouth shut.

Dallon was quiet for a minute, and the silence spoke every word he was afraid to say. Every word Brendon was afraid of. His grip on the steering wheel loosened, his eyebrows knit together, and he reached up to wipe his cheeks off with trembling fingers before he asked in a voice barely above a whisper, "How could you say that to me?"

"I didn't mean it like that." He defended himself, but then again he'd said it so he had to have meant it. "I just think... I don't know. I just think all your dwelling is unhealthy."

Dallon blinked a couple of times, letting tears slip down pale skin without bothering to wipe them away this time, and he knew Brendon didn't mean it. He couldn't mean it, because Brendon wouldn't purposely hurt him. Not after everything. Not after he let him in. "Well, I'm sorry for having feelings, Brendon."

"You're allowed to feel, Dallon, but..." He trailed off, because he didn't know what else to say. He'd already said enough. "Things change. You have to change with them."

"But it's not that simple, Brendon. My dad died. Do you know what it's like to get a call in the middle of the night saying that you need to get to the hospital and not knowing what's going on? Do you know what it's like to have to stand there and listen to a doctor you don't know the name of tell you that your dad was in a severe car accident and was dead on impact? And do you know what it's like going home and crawling into bed with your mom and not feeling your dad there too, and then having this sudden realization that you'll never see him again because he's never coming back? And having to wake up in the middle of the night to hear your mom sobbing, or to stand there at his funeral three weeks after your birthday and act strong because everyone needs you to be? And did you know that I had to sneak away during his funeral and cry in my best friend's arms on the bathroom floor because I didn't get the chance to cry before then because everyone expects me to be put together all the time over everything?! He's never gonna see me graduate or get married, and he'll never meet my future husband or his grandchildren, and he's never gonna be there for any of my stupid cliché milestones. Maybe I'm fucking overreacting to you, but after spending every day of my life for the past three and a half years trying to be okay with the fact that he's gone, seeing my mom being happy with some other guy is like being set all those years back. Do you know what any of that is like?"

Tears rolled down Brendon’s cheeks and he wouldn’t dare meet his eyes, because he knew. He knew, and Dallon didn’t have to say it. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t pretend that he did. “No.” He whispered finally, willing to admit he was wrong.

"Exactly, Brendon, so stop acting like you know better than I do."

All of a sudden the car halted to a stop and the sound exploded like a gunshot, making both boys yell out in fear as Dallon let go of the wheel like an instinct. Brendon’s hands trembled and Dallon tried to start the car again but it wouldn’t budge. The engine growled when he twisted his keys in the ignition and Brendon watched, petrified, until Dallon gave up with something unreadable burning clear in his eyes.

"Shit." He grabbed his phone and climbed out of the car right there in the middle of the street, and with wide eyes Brendon looked up at him and gripped the side of the door as if the car were about to start rolling.

"Where are you going?" He called in disbelief, how could Dallon actually leave the conversation like that when it was clearly unfinished, but Dallon slammed his car door behind him without a response. Brendon unbuckled his seatbelt and twisted to watch Dallon walk around the car, surveying it as he dialed something on his phone, and he didn’t know what to do. It was dark. Something could come right out of the woods and slash him to pieces. This was not okay. "Dallon, don't you fucking leave me in here!" He screamed.

"I'll be right back," Dallon called back, and started pacing.

Brendon threw his head back and wiped desperately at his wet cheeks, covering his flushed face with his hands. This wasn’t how he thought this would go. This wasn’t how he wanted it to go, either. He knew it was bad, but... he didn’t know it was that bad.

He climbed out of the car, hands shaking, and leaned against it without bothering to shut the door behind him. He caught Dallon reciting his license plate to whoever was on the phone, pacing still as he kicked gravel aimlessly, scuffing the ground with his sneakers.

"Yeah, Dallon Weekes... W-E-E-K-E-S. okay, thank you. Bye." He hung up and threw his head back, eyes closed like he was trying not to scream. Brendon watched him, scared of what he’d say, because he and Dallon were so used to niceties. He wished he’d just stayed at home, hidden under his covers and waiting for the storm to pass. Things were always easier when he just hid.

"Calling in for a replacement boyfriend?" Brendon asked, trying to make it lighthearted though the question was heavy. Asking if they were okay. Were they?

Only when he spoke did Dallon realize Brendon was there. He looked up at him stoically, holding up his phone, not taking the bait for another argument because Brendon regretted it as soon as he said it. "I called triple A. Said it backfired. It'll take about an hour and a half for them to get here. They have to come kickstart it."

"Whatever that means." Brendon leaned back against the car and looked up at the sky indignantly, deciding against apologizing because it didn’t seem right right now.

He could see the stars perfectly on the unlit street, stretching across the vast expanse as mountains dipped over the horizon in the dark. It felt peaceful, it felt false, and Dallon added, "I'm gonna call my mom."

Brendon only looked away from the sky to watch Dallon, one arm over his chest and the other holding his phone as his entire stance seemed uncomfortable, like he’d rather be abandoned here with anybody else. And that look hurt so Brendon looked away, back at the sky until he felt like the nothingness of it was going to swallow him up. Everything disappeared in the dark.

He looked back at Dallon and didn't realize when he’d started to feel so in the dark with him.

"Hey. Um, my car broke down so I won't be home for a while. I called it in, so I should be fine out here until they come... yeah, we're alright." He looked over at Brendon, who stared back at him aimlessly. "No, he can't, he's working early. I'll come home as soon as I drop him off." He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, watching his sneakers and laughing quietly in a way that was more sad than humorous. "No, no car crashes. I promise... I love you too. Bye."

He hung up and pocketed his phone but didn't stop pacing because he didn’t know what to do here. Brendon reached behind him to shut his door, knew Dallon wouldn’t be getting back in anytime soon, and decided that maybe they should talk though Dallon didn’t want to. He wouldn’t even meet Brendon’s eyes. But Brendon tried, leaning against the car and staring after him, waiting.

Dallon’s fists clenched and he went to pull at his hair like he was trying to pull the bad thoughts out of his mind. "This wasn't how it was supposed to be!" Dallon yelled, his voice echoing down the vacant road. Tears stained his face and Brendon stepped back, up against the door as Dallon crossed to the hood of the car. “Fuck!”

Brendon startled, reaching out a hand to get him to stop and listen, to calm him down, to fix what he’d broken. "Dallon-“

Dallon kicked his car and at the top of his lungs screamed a long, drawn out, "Fuck!"

"Dallon!" Brendon yelled. Dallon looked at him with big eyes like he hadn’t realized, how could he not, how could he, and Brendon stared back at him as of trying to remember who he was.

Without an apology Dallon covered his mouth with his hand and turned away from him so he didn't have to see the look on Brendon's face. Brendon wiped the tears out of his eyes and approached him slowly, watching his body tremble as he held himself tight, crying silently as tears contoured his face in the pale moonlight. Brendon had never seen him like this.

Slowly, he reached out to touch Dallon's shoulder, but Dallon shrugged him off. "I'm sorry." He whispered, voice broken.

Brendon shook his head in denial, eyebrows furrowed and heart pounding so hard in his chest he thought he was going to combust. Was this Dallon? Was this him? They were always so in sync. He never took swings at him just because. "I'm the one that should be sorry. It's not fair for me to tell you how to feel. I shouldn't be assuming what this is like."

Dallon shook his head and Brendon was unsure of whether it was to accept or reject his apology. Dallon wouldn't look at him, ducking his head instead, and said brokenly, "I can't believe you said that to me."

And all once Brendon realized that he really hit him where it hurt the most.

"I can't believe I said that to you either," Brendon admitted quietly.

Slowly Dallon turned to look at him, something unreadable lingering in his eyes. Brendon knew what he had done. Took a shot and got him right in the heart. Dallon went to lean against the side of his car, seemingly exhausted, too tired to fight anymore. He sighed as he slid down the side of the door, pulling his knees to his chest and running his hands through his hair.

Brendon took a seat beside him and did the same, curling in on himself and wrapping his arms around his knees. Tonight was a mistake. This was all a mistake and he just wanted to go home. “Look, Dallon.” He started, wringing his hands and waging wars with himself though he didn’t know who was winning. “I’m really sorry. I’m not gonna pretend to know what you were going through, or what you're going through now, because I've never had to experience anything half as awful as you did. And... and I didn't mean any of that. I didn't...” He swallowed thickly, staring at a crack in the asphalt just beyond the toes of his sneakers, feeling Dallon’s eyes fixated on his face. “I didn't know everything was so bad. You seem so okay sometimes that it slips my mind that you're not that person I used to think you were. I shouldn't have told you that how your mother's relationship affects you doesn't matter, because it's your family, and you'll always matter in your family. And I didn't mean that you should get over your dad being gone. You're allowed to mourn all you want. For as long as you need."

Dallon was quiet for a second, processing Brendon’s words with a sincerity that Brendon couldn’t quite decipher, and finally he looked down at his lap in defeat as he twisted the ring on his finger off. "Sometimes it's easier to scream and cry than to accept that he's gone." He said quietly, swallowing down a sharp breath that sounded pained. "It's been over three years, Brendon, but I'm still never gonna be over it. I know it's hard for you to understand because you're not in my place, and God, I hope you never are." He added with a shuddered breath, and Brendon watched a tear slide down his cheek. "Listen. I didn't mean it. All of it was uncalled for. But I need you to understand that I'm gonna cope however I need to. Being mad at the world is so much easier than trying to be okay with it. I’ve been mad at the world for a long time. And if we're gonna be together, you have to get that I'm not gonna change. Not for you. Not for anyone."

Brendon looked down at his hands and picked at one of his nail beds, fingers trembling. How did they end up this way? He thought he knew him. "I know, and I don't want you to change. I just... I wish things were different. I wish I knew how to fix this. But I— I’ve never done this before. I've never been in a serious relationship and I've never experienced a death. I've never had to comfort somebody I really love because of something like this. I don’t know what to do."

Dallon tilted his head back and sighed like he knew it would come eventually. He just wasn’t expecting it to be out here in the middle of nowhere so late with no signs of human life. "Brendon, don't beat yourself up because of me. You don't need to comfort me. All you need to do is understand where I'm coming from. What happened to me... it's traumatizing. It's scarring. No matter where I am and what I'm doing it's always gonna be there with me. And I'm biased against anything that goes against him. And to me... my mom being with another man is going against him. I'm gonna defend my dad until I die. That's just the way it's gonna be."

"I get it." Brendon leaned his head back too, averting his gaze toward the night sky. He caught a star in his eye, made a wish, prayed for it to come true. And Dallon was doing the same, little did he know. But after a life of little disappointments he wouldn’t be surprised if he were wishing on planes instead. "I'm really sorry about everything I said. It's none of my business, it's only your family's, and I shouldn't have gotten involved. No matter how much I think I should.”

He shrugged like it just didn’t matter anymore. "Thank you, but I can see where you were coming from. I'd get involved if you were in my place and vice versa. And to tell you the truth, I would have probably said exactly what you said. But whether my mom is in love or not, Brendon, I'm gonna have to tell her how I feel. I know you don't think that's fair, but she wants me to tell her whenever I have a problem, and I respect her too much to lie to her."

Brendon ran his hands over his knees. "As long as you won't try to tell her what to do."

"I won't." Dallon dipped his head to lean on Brendon's shoulder quietly, his eyes falling shut to the gentle susurrus of the wind blowing through the trees. Brendon was scared to move, because if he did then he would lose him, and Brendon couldn’t lose him. He was just sick of shutting him out. Being at battle with him. They weren’t on the same side. He never knew what that was like until he was being forced to put up his armor and defend his troops.

"I'm sorry I said you should get over your dad's death. That wasn't okay for me to say."

Dallon let out a quiet sigh but his eyes remained closed, and it was scary to think they weren’t on the same page for once. "No, it wasn't. But you didn't mean it. I know you don’t have the heart to mean it. So I forgive you.” He reached down to slide his fingers in between Brendon’s gently, making something stir in his chest. Newfound hope. “And I need you, Brendon, a lot more than it seems sometimes. You've made the past year bearable, and I want you to stick around and keep making it bearable, if that's okay with you."

His heart burned as he moved his fingers, feeling them touch Dallon’s. Did he think they were breaking up? What gravity did this hold for him? "If that's an invitation to keep being your boyfriend, I'm gonna RSVP."

Dallon let out a weak laugh, maybe a pity laugh, and lifted his head to look into Brendon's eyes for the first real time all night. Brendon looked back at him, if only a little guilty, and they stared at each other for what seemed like forever before Dallon reached up to rest one hand on his cheek, careful like he was screaming shatter me.

He guided Brendon's face toward his own, pressed their lips together for a second just to taste what he felt slipping away. Forgiving his mouth for the hurtful things that had come out of it, waving a white flag in surrender. It ended before the nerve endings in Brendon’s lips shot to his brain and told him that Dallon was really there, but he was. Brendon knew that now.

Dallon pulled away to meet his eyes, blinking out tears like slow motion. "I really needed you tonight." He whispered, throat closing around tears.

Brendon's heart dropped into his stomach, and he could feel his skin turn cold as a shiver ran down his spine. "I'm sorry I let you down, then."

"It's okay," Dallon said, but Brendon knew. He let him down. He did, and Dallon didn't refute it. Suddenly, Dallon stood up with a grunt but without a word, and Brendon's eyes followed curiously. "I need to be alone for a little while, if that's alright." He wiped his hands on his jeans. "I just wanna process today."

"Of course." Brendon watched Dallon pull open the passenger seat door and tug on the little latch that kept the glove compartment closed. He reached in and retracted a white box and a small black lighter, and- “You smoke?”

Dallon slammed the door shut so loudly that it made Brendon shudder. "Not often. Don’t mention it to my mother.” And before Brendon could answer he crossed the street, making him stare at his retreating figure and wishing that in more ways than one, they were on the same side. But the battle rested in Dallon’s hands now.

With a cigarette in his lips Dallon took a seat on the edge of the highway, his back to Brendon, and fumbled to light it with cold fingers. Brendon could imagine the way he sucked in smoke, let it out, wondered how long he’d been doing it and why. If his mother knew or there was a reason not to mention it. He leaned his head back against the car. He shouldn’t have fought with him. He just wanted to help.

Everything had been a miscommunication. Everything had led to a fallout. Now he didn’t know where they stood. The silence was deafening. The sight of him on the other side of the road with a mountain in between them was too.

Brendon watched Dallon’s back for what felt like forever as he took spaces out drags from his cigarette, making Brendon sleepy as his phone had long since died and he was getting cold and tired. He just wanted to go home. He shivered from the chilly October air, unnaturally cold for Nevada, and he wanted his Dallon. He wanted to know everything was okay.

Brendon got up slowly, wiping the gravel from his pants and taking cautious steps across the street. Dallon looked up at the sound of footsteps and Brendon forced a smile at him, trying not to notice the bags under his eyes, the province of sleepless nights, flushed cheeks, stained with tears.

"Alone time canceled." Brendon's voice came out quiet and Dallon shrugged, didn't mind because he didn't want to wake up the rest of the world, anyway. Or the demons sleeping in the woods around them. "Sorry."

"It's okay." His sight set high to watch Brendon as he took a hesitant seat on the ground beside him, criss-crossing his legs while Dallon’s ominous eyes followed his every movement. He wrapped his arms around himself and rubbed up and down for some friction that would induce heat, to no avail. "Are you cold?"

Brendon glanced up at him, realizing that Dallon had been watching him, and nodded reluctantly because he didn't want to be in the way anymore. Without a word Dallon slid off his hoodie and handed it to Brendon, expertly holding his cigarette in his mouth. Brendon watched, inexplicably nervous, and he didn't get this anymore. He wasn't sure he wanted to. “You don't have to-"

"I know I don't." Dallon gave him the hoodie, but Brendon was disquieted. He didn't deserve to be taken care of. Not right now. Not after everything that had happened. So he sat there, awkwardly clutching it in both hands, while Dallon took another drag from his cigarette. "But you have the body mass of a nine-year-old. You're freezing cold."

Brendon let out a little laugh and tugged the hoodie on over his bare arms, he was right, he was freezing, and in the warmth of Dallon’s hoodie he wrapped his arms around himself, pretending to feel better. The lighter and the box of cigarettes were in the left pocket, weighing it down.

In the most sincere voice he could muster, he said a quiet, "Thank you."

"Sure."

They were quiet for a long time, neither knowing just what to say. The sounds of the woods were making a scared Brendon even more frightened, suddenly too aware of his surroundings. He stared ahead of him out at nothing, praying that a coyote wouldn’t jump out of the woods and attack him. What would Dallon do? Maybe he should just leave him in the woods and run. But Dallon had a heart, and anyway, it was too suspicious. Leaving your boyfriend in the woods alone to die after a fight? It was too easy.

Brendon thumbed the sleeve of Dallon's hoodie and Dallon was staring into space, away from his dying cigarette. Brendon wasn't good with silence, he never had been, and he knew it was wrong, he shouldn't ask, he shouldn't bother, but... "Smoking? What's up with that?"

Dallon shrugged half-heartedly but he didn't dare make eye contact. "Kinda feels like a rebellion, and a little rebellion never hurt anyone. And on days like this it feels nice to blacken my lungs, anyway.”

Brendon didn't know what to say, but tears filled his eyes again because this wasn't fair. Dallon was supposed to be the first happy artist. Things were supposed to be different. "How often do you do it?"

He took another hit, and Brendon watched him let the smoke out of his mouth when he said in a strained voice, "Only when I'm feeling suicidal."

Tears pooled in Brendon's eyes. And maybe it wasn't completely his fault, but he knew deep down what he had done. "Oh."

He twisted the cigarette in between his fingers. "Yeah. Y'know, something that's detrimental to your health but also frowned upon by a lot of people. Especially for a clean-cut person like me. And, well, you know me, angry with the world. Holding a grudge is a drug I'm never clean of."

Brendon watched him speak like he was on a stage in an empty bar room: intimately, but as if the two were transported into some other universe. And maybe it was the liminal space, the long, dark road Dallon had chosen to take, though Brendon couldn't help but blame himself for this. For everything.

And suddenly, just when Brendon was about to suggest they go back to the car to keep warm while they waited, Dallon took the almost dead cigarette and pressed it into the skin on his left forearm without a second thought. He let out a sob, a loud and broken one, and threw his head back and screamed at the pain. But he didn't stop digging it into his flesh, twisting it deep through tears and searing pain and Brendon bursting into tears in shock. It was the first time he'd ever seen... this. He didn't know what to think, or feel, or do.

"Dallon!" Brendon cried out, grabbing at his hands to just get him to stop. He managed to snatch the cigarette from his shaking hand long enough to throw it onto the road beside him and turned back to see Dallon clutching his injured arm with his right hand. He doubled over and cried and hissed in pain, and that then just proved to Brendon that there was a whole other Dallon that he'd never even met. It was terrifying. He was scared.

Dallon gripped his arm with a tenacity that looked painfully tight, letting out heavy sobs without even trying to hold it back. “Fuck!” He screamed at the top of his lungs.

Brendon didn't know what to do so he just pulled Dallon onto his lap, trembling uncontrollably. He wrapped both arms around Dallon's shoulders and let the boy lean back against his chest and cry, hard and loud and choked up because he couldn't seem to breathe. Dallon's body shook vigorously with gut-wrenching sobs, and Brendon's shook with fear.

And then suddenly, it hit him. Only when I'm feeling suicidal. Dallon had done it before.

Brendon abruptly burst into tears again, his poor baby Dallon, and didn’t even try to hide it as they sat there on the edge of the road, blurring their bridges since Brendon had put the fire out. He couldn't help but keep replaying the image over and over in his head like an instant replay, on a loop that wouldn't cease, and he knew he'd never be able to get it out of his head. He needed to get it out of his head. He needed to get Dallon out of his own head, too.

He managed to wiggle out from underneath Dallon and Dallon sat up, blinking out tears when he met Brendon's eyes. Brendon outstretched a hand like a compromise, a truce, and Dallon took it, pushing himself up and following Brendon across the street because they needed to get the hell out.

Brendon opened the backseat door and climbed in, pulling Dallon in with him and cradling his head in his lap as Dallon trembled. “It’s okay,” Brendon whispered, brushing his fingers through his hair. No one could hurt him now. He’d never let anyone hurt him again. He just had to hold him until he believed it.

Dallon sniffled quietly into Brendon’s stomach, gripping his shirt and not meeting his eyes because he couldn’t. Brendon pushed hair out of his eyes, stroking his skin carefully, and could feel his trust in him slowly synthesizing as they sat silent in the backseat. He reached his hand slowly, scared to be rejected, but Dallon went to hold it with both of his own, still not saying a word.

Quietly, Brendon combed a hand through Dallon's hair and asked, "What the hell was that, Dal?"

“Self-harm, Bren.” He said like it were obvious, his eyes closed and smiling hazily like he thought he was funny.

Brendon scratched at the top of his head, how could Dallon joke about this? "I'm serious, Dallon."

He shrugged sleepily and let go of Brendon's hand with one of his, but Brendon squeezed the one he was still holding because he wouldn't let him go if his life depended on it. "I started smoking after my dad died, I... it's a long story. But after the first time, Ryan's older brother bought them for me cause we're friends. He didn't know what I was doing with them. When I'm in a really bad place, I do this." He lifted his arm just enough so Brendon could see the burn but Brendon didn't wanna look at it, couldn’t bring himself to, just pet his hair to tell him he knew. He knew too well, now. "I'm sorry. It’s a bad habit. It was a stupid thing to do. It’s just hard to stop.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m not mad,” Brendon promised, because he wasn’t. Dallon was sick. He just needed to get better. It was a work in progress. "How often do you do this, Dal?"

"Only when it's really bad." He blinked up with apologetic blue eyes, filled with contrite tears and too much honesty. He didn't have to feel guilty. He didn't have to feel sorry. He hadn't done anything wrong. He just got the short end of the stick. In a disheartened and strained voice, he admitted, "It's really bad, Brendon. I'm in a really bad place."

"I know." Brendon thumbed underneath Dallon's eye, wiping away the wetness from the nimiety of tears. "Is there anything I can do?"

“No, you're already doing it." He sighed, squeezing Brendon’s hand as if trying to release some tension and looking away from his eyes with a despondent look in his own. “It makes me feel in control. Like it’s pain that I’m in charge of. I don’t know how else to cope. I’ll be fine.”

“I wish you didn’t feel like you had to do that.” He whispered, brushing his thumb over his forehead and not knowing what else to say. Apologies were so much easier when he knew what to apologize for. “I’m sorry you don’t feel well, baby.”

“Thanks.” Dallon closed his eyes, and tears wet Brendon’s cheeks as he pet his hair gently, trying to make things okay. He apologized. He tried to take everything back. That was all he could try to do.

Dallon dozed off in his lap at some point as Brendon leaned his head back against the seat. He was exhausted, physically and mentally, deserved a little bit of rest even if it was just in the backseat of a car. Brendon sat there with his eyes closed for a few minutes, listening to his breathing, the way he sniffled in his sleep and how he made this distinct little noise like a cat purring.

He looked down at him suddenly, at the way his eyelashes fluttered, and prayed he was having a good dream. Prayed for someone to help this boy. And he reached into the hoodie pocket, careful not to wake him, finding the box of cigarettes and a quarter used lighter and tucking them into the pouch on the back of the driver’s seat. For a second it felt like nothing was wrong until he remembered.

Brendon sat with his head against the window, one hand tucked in Dallon's, the other nestled in his hair, staring down at him and wondering how everything could be so cruel. Dallon was breathtaking, even when he was stained with tears, even when his eyes screamed shatter me, even with that heartbreaker smile. His eyes started to fall shut but he never wanted to take them off of Dallon. He wasn’t sure how he could, after tonight.

He stroked his cheek gently, and he just wanted to take in all of this beauty before it was too late.

Lights started to flash behind the car and Brendon turned in his seat, catching the name of the company as the car pulled up behind him. “Dallon.” He whispered, hadn’t meant to, as he tapped gently on his arm. “They’re here. The help truck thing.”

“Oh.” He yawned quietly, sitting up and out of Brendon’s lap, tugging his sweater sleeves down as falsities were what he had grown so used to.

Dallon Weekes had always been one to put on a brave face. It just accompanied destructive proclivities to make up for it.

Brendon followed reluctantly and went to stand on the side of the road as Dallon explained to the man what had happened, putting on a fake smile and laughing sheepishly as he told his story. Things went so wrong tonight. So very wrong. Brendon didn’t know how to fix them. Maybe he couldn’t; maybe it had gone too far already.

Dallon went to stand beside him, playing with the ring on his finger. “You okay?” He asked quietly, turning to get a good look at his face, and Brendon bristled like he was scared of him. Like he was scared of any malicious intent. But there was none. With Dallon there never was.

Brendon shrugged. Okay was a relative term. “Mhm. Just tired. Trying to process everything.”

"Tell me about it." He folded his arms over his chest with a deep sigh and tilted his head back to look at the star-filled sky above them. They hung heavy tonight, and he made another wish. Quietly, he asked like he were too tired to be afraid of the answer, "Are we okay, Brendon?"

"Yeah." He looked up at Dallon, who sacrificed his gaze at the sky to a timid Brendon shivering beside him. They didn't touch, just stood side by side. They both knew the score. "Right?"

"Yeah." He slipped his hand in Brendon's with finality, and Brendon squeezed, overwhelmed. He didn’t know what he would do if they weren’t okay. He didn’t want to let this go so soon. "Yeah, I'd like to think that we are. And I'm not mad at you. I don’t want to be. I just took everything out on you and I’m sorry.”

"And I have this incessant need to argue and get into people's business when I don't belong. So I'm sorry that I tried to get into it with you. I have no say in what you do and what you feel and it’s not fair of me to try to get into your business. I do this thing where I always fuck it up when something good happens to me. You're good, Dallon, and I don't want to fuck us up."

"You didn't fuck anything up," Dallon promised, a geniality in his voice that set Brendon at ease. He was still making up for mistakes he’d been making forever. He didn’t need to keep making more to add to the list. "I'm sorry we had to wait so long. I know you have to work in the morning. We probably won't get back until late."

Brendon shook his head; he didn't mind having to wait. Everything was blurring together in his brain and he couldn’t decide what time his internal clock was stuck on. It had all been too much to handle. He crossed his arms, staring out at the dark road, and he could feel it in his bones with the ache of exhaustion. He’d seen a side of Dallon he didn’t know existed. A scarier side. And Brendon would learn to accommodate. Even the darkest side of him wouldn’t make Brendon leave. "I'll see if my mom can push my shift back an hour or two. I'm sure she'll understand if I tell her your car broke down."

“I’m sure she will be. She’s always understanding.” He figured, and turned to look down at his shoes. “I’m gonna have to talk to my mom about Jack, Brendon. I promised her I would always be honest with her. This is just me being honest with her.”

“I understand,” Brendon said, and he did now, but he wished Dallon didn’t have to do that. He wished he didn’t use that tone of voice where he meant that nothing Brendon could do would make him change his mind, too. “Let me know what happens.”

“I will,” Dallon promised, and they fell into silence as they watched the man at work, too tired to speak. Brendon’s body felt weak and he stared out at the road. He still wanted to apologize, though he didn’t know what for. He didn’t want to exhaust it. He didn’t want to exhaust himself worrying, either.

He swayed gently with the breeze as he tried to fixate his mind on one thing. Screaming. Fighting. Burning. Dallon stood silently beside him and stared down at his feet, not saying a word but wanting to, because neither knew what to say. Whether the apologies were just a formality or if they were honest. Brendon shifted his gaze toward him and away so fast he didn’t even realize. He wasn’t sure how honest Dallon even was after everything.

He looked up at the sky, watching the world turn and trying to keep his balance.

“You’re all set, Mr. Weekes.” The man announced, heading back to his truck.

“Thank you so much,” Dallon called, putting a hand up in gratuity, and nodded his head toward the car. “Let’s go.” He added quietly, and went to open the passenger seat door for Brendon before he climbed into the driver’s.

Dallon twisted the radio on as he started down the road and Brendon started to play with his seatbelt, staring ahead as yellow lines disappeared underneath the car. Things were okay. They had to be okay. Dallon would be leaving him on the side of the road alone if they weren’t. Dallon would break up with him on the spot if they weren’t. He looked over, reaching out his hand, and blindly Dallon took it, and things had to be okay because he didn’t know what he would do if they weren’t.

“Do you want me to walk you up?” Dallon asked as he stopped in front of the diner not soon after, clicking the locks to let Brendon out.

“No, it’s okay. You should get home.” He nodded cordially as he opened the door, as if to thank him for the ride, unbuckling his seatbelt and starting to climb out.

“Wait, Brendon.” He stopped him, and Brendon turned to meet his eyes, almost scared because he knew he’d been lying to himself and things weren’t okay. He didn’t know how they could be. But Dallon tugged him close to kiss him, gentler than he’d been expecting, and added with clear apology in his voice as he pulled away, “I need you. And I’m sorry.”

“I know. I need you too. And I’m sorry too.” He hasn’t meant for it to come out in a whisper but it was sincere nonetheless, and he wrapped an arm around him in a hug. “Get home safe. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Dallon said softly, watching until he was at the door, and they exchanged soft smiles before Brendon was safely inside and Dallon headed home.

He closed the door behind him and wiped at his cheeks as dried tears felt too real again.

The kitchen light was on when Brendon got upstairs and closed the door behind him quietly so not to wake anyone, though someone was still up. He toed his shoes off and pulled Dallon’s hoodie around him tighter, feeling too cold even in the warmth of his home, and padded into the kitchen in his socks to find his mother at the table, reading a magazine and waiting up for him.

“Hi, mama.” He greeted quietly, catching her attention.

“Where were you, Brendon? It’s one in the morning.” She said in lieu of a greeting, and he glanced at the clock, not even having realized it had gotten so late. It felt like days had passed already.

“We were driving around and his car broke down so we had to wait for triple A. It took a long time to get to us. And my phone died before I could call you and tell you what happened, and Dallon and I got in a really bad fight and I didn’t wanna ask to borrow his phone. I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal if I got home late.”

Her eyes softened and she closed her magazine, sitting up in her seat. He wasn’t trying to get her sympathy. He just wanted to go to bed. “No, honey, it’s not, I just... you got in a fight? What about? Are you okay?”

He sniffled, shaking his head and shifting his weight uncomfortably. “Just me sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. I’ll be okay. Dallon’s going through a lot and I didn’t know and I just feel guilty about it. I wanted to help, but... I don’t know. I’ll be okay.”

“What about Dallon? Is he okay?”

Brendon shook his head again, shrugging, because honestly he didn’t know anything anymore. It crossed his mind that maybe Dallon had been not okay for a really long time. “I don’t know. I hope so. Uh. I’m gonna go to bed, if that’s okay. Today was a really bad day.”

“Yeah, honey, that’s okay. I love you. I’m here if you wanna talk. Sweet dreams.” She got up to envelope him in a hug and he let her, trying to choke back tears again.

“Thank you. I love you too.” He said, and escaped to his room before she could see him cry.

Closing his door behind him, he let himself break down again without anyone to watch him. Without his Dallon. He changed into pajamas and held Dallon’s hoodie tight against his face, everything smelled like secondhand smoke, not the way Dallon usually smelled, and his heart ached, his stomach ached, and he didn’t know how somebody so good could hurt so bad.

All of a sudden there was a gentle knock at his door, and he didn't have time to answer before Kara pushed it open. He looked up at her with wide eyes, not expecting her to be awake, and she asked, “You okay?”

“Am I that loud?” He asked and she nodded, closing the door behind herself and sitting on the edge of his bed to pull him into a hug. He shook his head, he wasn’t okay, he couldn’t pretend he was, and sobbed into her shoulder. He didn’t even know what was wrong. Nothing. Everything, maybe.

Kara rubbed his back, carded a hand through his hair, tried to calm him down as his body trembled, scared of what it had seen. Traumatized. “What happened?” She asked, voice hushed.

“Everything.” He cried, shaking his head because he didn’t even know how to say it. “I don’t know. We got in a really bad fight. And we didn’t break up but I hurt him really bad, Kara, and he hurt himself too and I— I don’t know if we’re okay. We talked about everything and he said it was fine but I don’t think it is. I don’t think anything is fine. And I’m so scared for him and I feel so bad and I want to help him but I can’t.”

“Bren, you can’t fix him. You can’t.” She shushed him, and he pulled away to look at her. “It isn’t your job. It’s your job to be the best boyfriend you can be and to love him and be there for him but it’s not your job to take care of him. He’s dealing with mental illness and that’s not your fault. You can’t take on his depression.”

“I know, and I know it’s not my fault, but I feel like I always try to make things better and I end up just making them worse. I’m trying so fucking hard, Kara, and everything I do just—“ He stopped, wiping his tears with his fingers. He wanted to save Dallon. He wanted to save him, and he didn’t see anything wrong with that. “I just wish I could fix everything. Solve all of his problems.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not how it works, kid.” She said with sympathy clear in her voice, rubbing his shoulder.

“I know. But I wish it was.” He shrugged, and it all felt so foolproof. To try and save someone you knew needed saving. To detect every problem and every solution and cut out the stressors. Brendon could do that if he wanted to. He could help Dallon. He didn’t see why not. “I just don’t get it. How everything can go from being so perfect to being... this. How love can be so conflicting.”

“It’s because it’s not just one emotion. It’s a million different ones. Being able to fall for someone and letting yourself open up and being honest even when sometimes that hurts. It’s hard work, Brendon. Nothing good ever comes easy.”

“I guess you’re right.” Brendon agreed, hearing Dallon’s words echo in his head from a long, long time ago. Love is a violent thing. He knew now what he meant, and that it was more honest than he’d thought back when they were new to each other. He knew now that he’d always be there for Dallon because it would be impossible not to be. Dallon was worth everything to him. He just had to remember. “Hey, why are you up so late? Shouldn’t you be getting rest before the baby comes?”

She sighed and fell onto her back with one hand on her stomach as if to keep the baby in place. "I should be, but it’s keeping me up. It's been kicking so much lately. I think we've got a future soccer star in here.”

"It's kicking?" He asked, surprised, and had almost forgotten that in a few months he’d have a little niece or nephew crawling around here. “Can I feel?”

"Of course, little one." She took his hand and carefully placed it on her stomach, waiting a moment until he felt it. He gasped, he’d never felt that before, or realized he would be able to, and she laughed. “Cool, huh?”

"Yeah!" He felt it again and his lips turned up into a smile, forgetting about his horrible night for a minute. "And I don't know about a soccer star. It's a Urie, it'll probably get the culinary gene."

"That's probably true. But you didn't, so we'll see." She elbowed him in the side and he laughed despite himself, already in a better mood. He loved Dallon. Dallon loved him. He was just scared of that suddenly not meaning anything anymore.

“What’s it like? Carrying a baby?” He asked quietly, expecting it to feel magical, creating life, contributing to the world, making something so entirely unique that it was its own being entirely.

“Weird.” She laughed, and he tried to imagine it but couldn’t. “It's like there's something sitting on your bladder all the time and you're always feeling sick or hungry or both, that's no fun, but it's nice. It’s beautiful. I know I'm creating life and adding to our family and I know that this--" Kara pat her stomach. "This is a good thing. I can't wait to know the sex, and I can't wait to have the baby and take care of it and love it the way I’m loved. I hope I’m gonna be a good mom.”

“You will be.” He promised, because at only a few years older she had practically helped raise him. He knew she’d be a great mother. She already was one. “I just wish you were gonna be around.”

"Brendon, you'll always be my baby brother. And my favorite, don't tell the others." She swiped a finger over his cheek gently. "I'm moving in with Ben because I can't raise this baby in a house with six other people. I think moving into an apartment will be the best thing to do. For me, and him, and the baby. He needs to be a part of its life too. We’re starting a family together. That doesn’t mean you’re not my family anymore, either. It just means I have to divide my attention.”

Brendon nodded sullenly; he knew she was right. There was no room for a baby around here. He was just going to miss her. Everything changed so fast. “I know. I just... don’t like change.”

"Well, you'll get used to it." She pinched his chin playfully and he tried his best to smile. “I’ll stay in here with you tonight. Get some rest, okay? You had a long day. There’s no use in stressing about everything right now. C’mon.” She claimed one side of his bed and he didn’t know how to thank her, but talking to her always made him feel better.

She was right. There was no use in dwelling. He curled up beside her, burying himself in his covers, and said, “I know. You’re right. I’ll have plenty of time to stress tomorrow.”

She laughed, nodding, and kissed the top of his head as she turned his lamp off. He was just frustrated. Felt helpless. He knew there was no use in freaking out when that was the way he always felt.

He turned over to stare at the dark wall in the pitch black of his room and prayed that none of this meant more than he thought it did.


	28. Chapter 27: Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the next..... every chapter will be ANGSTY so enjoy

Kara was gone when Brendon woke up the next morning, the hazy October sunlight stretching over his fragile body like it was trying to reach out to him. He sat up and blindly grabbed at his glasses on the side table, pushing them onto his nose as he fumbled with unlocking his phone for the time. His eyes flickered up to the digits at the top of the screen, he was an hour late for his shift, and just as he began to scramble he found a message from his mother.

Birthgiver: Kara told me about last night. Sleep in and take the day off, you can make it up later.

He settled back down against his pillows, particularly warm after a freezing cold night, and opened up his conversation with Dallon to check for any good morning messages. But there was nothing there, no bubble of ellipses or elucidation that he was okay, no good morning or hello or even a smiley face. There was nothing, but he wasn't anxious. Dallon was probably just sleeping in like him. Or maybe he was busy, Dallon always seemed to be busy. He was probably volunteering and forgot to mention it. He shrugged it off, sending a short good morning before he plugged his nearly dead phone in to charge and jumped up to get something to eat.

Brendon was expecting something. He didn't even need much, just a hello or a how are you or a no, Brendon, I didn't kill myself on the way home because that would be insane and totally irrational and I would never do that. Even though I'm in a bad place and hurt myself in front of you and made it seem a lot like there was something wrong, because, well, there's always something wrong! Why wouldn't there be? I have a boyfriend who tells me I need to get over my father's death, just like my mother is right now, I'm completely alone and no one cares about me and— well, Brendon was getting sort of carried away, all trapped up in his thoughts.

He stood in the shower and stared at the tiled wall in front of him, scrubbing at his skin aimlessly with strawberry body wash until it was red and raw and hurt when the hot water touched it. But he needed to rinse the horrible night off of him, needed to cleanse himself of the scenarios that he couldn’t help but make up as he wondered where Dallon was. Was he trying to teach Brendon a lesson? Prove to him not to be such a horrible boyfriend because he needed him? Well, Brendon already knew he needed him. He didn't need to be taught that.

"Brendon, you've been in there for an hour. Unless you're paying our water bill, you might want to get out." His dad called through the door, knocking to get his attention. And he was right, hour long showers weren't going to make him less of a shitty boyfriend. He would have to face it sooner or later. He just didn't have to do that when he was immersed in water.

He turned the faucet off and climbed out, reaching for the towel as he leaned in to wipe the fogged-up mirror. He met his eyes through the glass, blurred with condensation, and he couldn't be mad at Dallon because it was all his fault. He took things too far, fought a war he had no business fighting in, broke an already broken heart. And that heart had never belonged to Brendon in the first place, it was an indefinite rental. He just... didn't want to return it so soon, was all.

Wrapped up in his towel, he emerged from the bathroom, still feeling as bad as he had when he entered it. His dad just smiled curiously down at him as he padded into the hallway, watching him peek up at him like maybe he suddenly had all the answers he was looking for. "What's going on?"

Brendon pouted. "I think Dallon hates me."

He furrowed his eyebrows, but Brendon didn’t take it back. Why else would he ignore him half the day after Brendon had said what he said? "I don't think your boyfriend hates you, Brendon."

"Yeah, well. You weren't there last night. You're not the one being ignored. I'm assuming mama told you."

"Yeah, she did." He leaned against the wall, and that was just great. Now his mistakes were being broadcasted for the entire world to see because the Uries were infamous for not being able to keep their damn mouths shut. "Give it time, Brens. Time heals all wounds."

Probably not bullet holes. "Maybe." He forced a smile and disappeared into his room, dripping with water and self-hatred.

Dallon said they were okay. He said that he wasn't mad at Brendon, he just took everything out on him, he wanted to keep being his boyfriend, he loved him. He said that, so why was Brendon starting to doubt it? Deep-rooted fear of abandonment, probably, because every time Dallon left a room Brendon worried that he wouldn't enter it again. This was a manifestation of that fear; Dallon didn't want him anymore. Brendon had ruined everything, and he didn't want him anymore. He was going to leave him because he could.

It was one of those things Brendon had mentioned in one of his short-lived therapy sessions. She told him that he was scared of people leaving him just as he was scared of people. He was scared of people because of what they were capable of. Hurting him. Hurting others. In this case, hurting themselves. He didn't want to believe that any part of him could be scared of Dallon, but then again he couldn't ignore the way his heart jumped when he saw the way he acted. Like he wasn't even Dallon.

Brendon had always been scared of what people could do, and Dallon held Brendon's entire heart in his hand. That was a scary, scary thing.

Brendon liked to label things. And he did not want to label himself as a crazy, obsessive boyfriend, because that really wasn't him. Really. It just wasn't his fault that he was checking every one of Dallon's social media pages. And it wasn't his fault if he sat in bed and chewed on his thumbnail anxiously as he called Dallon's phone at least seven times, each reaching the automated voicemail message and furthering his frustration. When all the messages he'd sent only showed up as delivered, Brendon officially wrote Dallon off as dead. Or maybe that wasn't the right term, all things considered, but still. He was nowhere to be found.

“Okay, Dallon. Where the fuck are you?” He whispered under his breath as he curled up at the head of his bed and scrolled through Dallon’s Instagram page, finding nothing though he wasn’t expecting to. But Dallon just wasn't like this.

His mind was spinning as he tried to think. How did he fix this? There was no way to reach him, not without showing up at his house like a creep or pushing it too far. He gave up and shoved his phone out of his sight, and he was probably just overthinking it. Dallon was probably too busy to talk. He was probably working at his mom’s store or taking a nap or something.

But as the day passed, he hadn't heard a word and he only got more anxious. He always heard from him in the morning. So what had happened toward the end of the night that made Dallon decide that he wasn’t worth a text back? There was nothing. Not that he could recall, anyway. So where the hell was he?

Urie: tyler I'm freaking the fuck out and I need u

Ty: what's wrong

Urie: last night I got in a really bad fight with dallon and I said a lot of stupid things that he would be completely justified in hating me over but he said that everything was okay and he forgave me and I texted him this morning but he didn't answer and I think he's just ignoring me ? like he won't answer my calls or texts and I don't know how to reach him ??? and something bad happened last night after the fight and I'm really really really worried about him and I don't know what to do I don't know if he's okay or if something happened or if it's just me

As he stared at the glowing screen with shaking fingers, the device buzzed in his hand and made him jump. For a second he prayed for Dallon, but Tyler's contact name appeared in place of their chat. Brendon started to pace again, chewing anxiously on his thumb nail. "Hi."

"Dude, why the fuck is he ignoring you?" He asked in lieu of a greeting, and Brendon knew he had fucked up but he was starting to think that this was completely irreparable.

Brendon stomped his foot like a child not getting their way. "I don't know, Tyler, but I'm fucking freaking out. What if something happened to him? Or what if he's still pissed at me? What if he breaks up with me? Because I was so bad to him. I was so, so mean. And I know I shouldn't have been but sometimes I can't help it and I just wanted him to listen but I didn't realize— fuck. I didn't realize how bad it was until I said it. And the look on his face, Ty, I don't think I can fix it. And I know he's mad at me, and he has every right to be, but now... I don't know if he meant it when he forgave me. And I don't know how to fix it."

Brendon's heart was pounding when Tyler asked, "What did you say to him, Bren?"

It played in his mind all over again, the words he wished he never said. It would have saved them from a night of introducing new characters to the wonderful world of Brendon Urie and Dallon Weekes. The villains, played by themselves. Brendon hoped they'd never get to that part. But he was the one writing their story, and he just... made a mistake. "I told him that he has to get over his dad's death."

Tyler sighed, so very clearly disappointed. Brendon knew, because he was disappointed in himself too. "Fucking Christ, Brendon."

He shook his head in disgust. "I know. God. I didn't even mean it, Ty, and I didn't even mean to say it. I was just so mad, you know? And I know that doesn't justify it, but-"

"Yeah, Bren, it doesn't justify it. You need to let him deal with things on his own terms. I mean, no offense, but I don't even blame him. I would break up with you too."

He covered his face with his hand and groaned. "We didn't break up! And I know, okay, I'm a terrible person and no one loves me and everyone thinks I'm a fucking dumbass because I am, okay? But right now I need to talk about how my boyfriend probably hates me and he is the one person I cannot stand hating me so will you please put aside your personal disdain for my actions? Just for now?"

"Yeah. Sorry." Tyler sighed on the other line and was quiet for a moment, thinking. This wasn’t how he expected his weekend to go. This wasn't what he had expected out of a relationship, either. Dallon was supposed to be his knight in shining armor. He wasn't supposed to be at war with him. This wasn't what Brendon had imagined. "You haven't heard anything from him?"

He shook his head frantically, though Tyler couldn’t see. It wasn’t unusual for him, but it was for Dallon, the pacing, the panicking, the hiding because he didn’t want anybody to know. And Brendon understood, there were parts of him he kept hidden from Dallon just as Dallon had with him. Maybe things weren’t totally okay yet. Maybe there were things left unsaid. Maybe they didn't know anything about each other. "Nothing. Total radio silence. And I've spent the entire day stalking him. I feel like he should have a restraining order by now. It's making me crazy. I'm crazy, right? I'm fucking crazy."

"Bren, calm down. You're not crazy, you're just worried and that's understandable. He's probably fine. Maybe his phone broke or something. Maybe he's busy. It doesn't necessarily mean he's ignoring you."

"I just need to talk to him." He snapped.

Tyler sighed out steadily, trying not to take it to heart. He knew how he got. "B, just wait it out. I'm sure he's taking some time. He deserves it. You know he deserves it." He quieted him down. He did deserve it. But Brendon had made a mistake and it was only right that he fixed it. He took a seat on the edge of his bed. Tyler had to be right. Maybe Dallon’s phone was broken or dead and he couldn’t find the charger. Maybe he was really busy or just too tired. Maybe there was some reasonable explanation. There had to be.

He took a deep breath and let it all out through his nose like his old therapist had taught him to do when he was scared. "Okay. Right. You're probably right."

Brendon really believed that. Or he had to make himself believe it, anyway. So he gave Dallon a night. They'd been through a lot. Dallon deserved a little break. Brendon wasn't always his number one priority and he had to understand that. So he gave Dallon a night, and he would take a night himself.

But when the sun rose on Sunday morning and he hadn't heard from him, he started to worry. Dallon greeted him every morning. Why was this one different? He couldn't just... disappear. This had to be Brendon's fault. It couldn't not be Brendon's fault. Everything else was.

He just couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was happening. Dallon didn't do this. Who was he right now? And where was he? No one had heard from him. After everything, Brendon didn’t know what to do. He just had to come to terms with it. He was going to lose Dallon, and it was all his fault.

God, he fucked up. He fucked up so bad.

Brendon lingered in the diner during his shift on Sunday afternoon, only managing half-hearted work as his mind strayed. When the bell above the door chimed Brendon glanced up hopefully, never catching Dallon because it was almost like he were a ghost.

"Have you guys ever been ignored after you fucked up really bad and didn't know what to do to fix it?" Brendon asked his brothers that evening as he walked in on a very competitive looking game of Mario Kart. Matt and Mason exchanged glances and then directed their attention to the youngest, frowning back at them like they needed to give him his answers when no one else would.

"No, because I don't fuck up," Mason answered. Matt raised an extra Wii remote, but Brendon shook his head and went to sit in the corner of the couch with a sigh.

"What's wrong?" Matt asked as his brother all but collapsed against the cushions and groaned. His parents should have stopped at four.

"I'm a piece of shit and Dallon hates me. I mean, he hasn't said it, because he kind of hasn't said anything, but I know that he hates me. He has to hate me. Because I'm an idiot and I stick my nose where it doesn't belong. Why do I do that?" He pulled his knees to his chest, and they shrugged in unison. "I always do that, you guys. I get into everyone's business and annoy them and I push people away because... fuck, I don't even know why I do it."

"You didn't break up, did you?" Matt asked as Brendon shifted his eyes from his brothers to the TV screen, where the Animal Crossing racetrack was in a lovely autumn setting. Brendon fucking loved Animal Crossing.

"No, but we may as well have. I was so, so bad to him that night. And now..." He sighed, running his hands up his legs uneasily. "I haven't heard from him. And normally I would be like, okay, he's probably just busy. But after having gotten in the worst fight ever, and then, like, what happened-" They both looked at him curiously, but he didn't offer an explanation. Nobody else needed to know. He was only here to rant, and they had been coerced into listening. "I'm worried that he's purposely avoiding me. Is that a stupid thing to worry?"

Mason said yes at the same time that Matt said no, and Brendon's eyes widened as the two exchanged looks once more. Mason paused the game, he was in first place anyway, and turned to his youngest brother like he were about to pass down some impeccable wisdom. "Bren, I don't know what happened between you guys, but give him a break. You aren't the only one going through this. He is too. And moping about it won't do anything. I know this isn't your intention but you're being selfish."

Brendon sat up, a little taken aback. "Wow, okay."

"I don't mean that in a bad way." Was there any other way to mean it? "I mean, you're not taking into consideration how he feels. If he wants a weekend alone, give him a weekend alone. You can manage that. It's just a couple of days. And you hurt each other. It's your first fight, you're teenagers. Maybe he needs a minute away from you. I know you two are seriously attached at the hip, but it can't be healthy all the time."

"Actually, he's right," Matt added in agreement, and a perplexed Brendon glanced at him for his input. Was he being selfish? He hadn't meant to. "You guys are constantly together. I can't be around anyone that often. You're probably making each other crazy. Just relax, and things will be okay again soon. You have a tendency to overthink and blame yourself. Don't overthink you and Dallon. You're too good for each other."

Letting that circulate in his mind for a minute, Brendon reached up to thumb at his bottom lip absentmindedly. "You think so?"

"Of course, Bren. Just give it a second." He advised, and Brendon narrowed his eyes in thought. Give it a second. He guessed he had to.

Watching the screen, Brendon thought back to the summer when he and Dallon spent days marathoning Mario Kart games when there was nothing else to be done. Monday morning. They would talk about it on Monday morning. If there was something wrong, if Brendon did anything, it was important that they talked about it. Talking was the remedy to problems in a stable relationship. Were they stable? The past few days made Brendon wonder.

But... he swore he thought they were okay. Dallon said that they were okay. And he lied awake for a while that night, thinking about what he'd said, what Dallon had said, the shots fired and weapons up. He promised he'd never hurt Dallon the way the rest of the world had. But maybe he wasn't better than that. Maybe he was just as cruel as the rest of them. Maybe he wasn't good enough for Dallon.

He wasn't as surprised as he should have been when he woke up to a blank screen, but he couldn't help but be more than hopeful that Dallon would be waiting for him at school to talk it out in person, because he had messed up and Dallon left to lick his wounds. The fight was over. He just wanted to talk now.

But when the first bell rang, he stared at Dallon’s empty desk and reluctantly came to terms with it: Dallon wasn’t coming.

Bumblebee: where are you

Bumblebee: are you okay

Bumblebee: I love you

Dally: mental health day. going to visit dad and I'm okay, pinky swear

Dally: and I love you too

His hands shook as the conversation lit up his screen under his desk, and he didn’t know what to say. He fucked up, and he needed to fix it.

Brendon wasn't surprised when he didn’t hear from Dallon again, and he couldn’t find it in him to be mad. What was he expecting, anyway? Dallon owed him nothing. It seemed like they were just taking turns now, being bad to each other just for the thrill. Brendon could scream all he wanted, he could say things he didn't mean and fight just for the sake of fighting, but Dallon was the one making Brendon cry. So where did they stand anymore? What was the score?

As the sun hid and so did Dallon, Brendon settled down and stared up at the dinosaur holding a cake. He didn't even care. He just huddled up at the head of his bed and held onto his pillow and cried into it, because he didn't know what to think anymore. Because he wished he wasn't scared of Dallon but he was, he was scared of how he had acted and the past he didn't know of and he was scared that he wasn't enough. Because he had disappeared for a reason, and Brendon didn't want to cry over him. But it wasn't like Dallon would know, anyway.

It was the end. He ruined everything, he shattered Dallon's heart and Dallon had smashed his right back. And now it was irreparable. He couldn't fix what he had broken, not with tape or glue or apologies he knew he would spit out as soon as he saw Dallon's face. Or maybe he would be mad, tell him off for the disappearing act. But could Brendon really blame him? Dallon realized that he needed something better and he was gearing up to end things. God, he fucked up.

There was a pit of anxiety in his stomach when he woke up on Tuesday morning to his mother calling out for breakfast. He knew he'd have to talk to Dallon eventually, but as the moon moved across the sky and Brendon couldn't will himself to sleep, he found himself dreading it. After what had happened between them, everything unspoken and the time that had passed, it would just feel strange to talk again. Were they capable of the truth anymore?

But still, he got up and got dressed and thought about Dallon, how he could have had more going on, how Brendon wasn't the only one who was having a hard time. His brothers were right. He had been selfish.

After three days of silence it seemed like some sort of miracle when Brendon stepped into his history classroom to see a tired Dallon, wrapped in a sweatshirt just a bit too big for him, appearing smaller than ever like he was trying to hide. Still cowering, Brendon noted, but he looked... fine. His earbuds were in and he said nothing, didn’t even turn around, and Brendon didn’t know what to say so he said nothing. Just stared at him like he were some masterpiece on display in a museum. Beautiful and fragile and untouchable.

Brendon’s eyes wandered over Dallon's shoulder to watch the way he typed out a message, disregarding his own nosiness because he had earned the right to be curious, and leaned forward to tap his arm to get his attention. Dallon startled at the sudden touch and turned around in his seat, though his lips turned up into a half smile when he saw that the interrupter was only his boyfriend. Soon to be ex-boyfriend? Brendon was still speculating.

"Hi." He greeted, surprised yet warm like he was relieved, considering the circumstances. And he was smiling, but Brendon decided that he was pissed, how dare he disappear and come back acting like everything was normal, and he only forced a smile back while Dallon tugged an earbud out and paused his music. "How are you?"

"Fine.” He lied, because if Dallon didn’t have to tell the truth then he didn’t either. “I missed you yesterday."

Dallon pushed his hair out of his face and nodded shortly, knowing very well that he was on thin ice. "I missed you too. I was really busy."

"And this weekend, Dal? What happened? You didn't call or text or anything, and I don't appreciate being completely ignored. I'd like to think that we're capable of having a mature conversation about our issues instead of hiding from each other. What the fuck was with the total silence?"

Dallon sighed, and Brendon knew then that it was intentional. Whatever had happened, he knew he was ignoring him, he knew it wasn't fair, and he knew he was a coward. Brendon could see the regret settle in his eyes. He was dreading the revelation, just like Brendon was dreading the truth. He had been wracking his brain, trying to figure out if it were the end, but he couldn't bring himself to think it. "It's not that I didn't want to talk to you, it's that I— I couldn't. I swear I'll tell you everything, but can we talk about it in private, please?"

Dallon’s eyes were only the slightest bit pleading, he didn't want to have to beg but Brendon wouldn't put it past him. Brendon had to respect that. At least Dallon was making an effort even when they were falling apart. "Yeah. Okay."

"Okay." Dallon leaned forward to steal a quick kiss that Brendon wasn't expecting. "Listen, I... um, I want a little bit of time. Not today, okay? We'll talk about this, though. We will. I promise. Just... maybe this weekend? When we have time. I want to spend today with you, get things at least a little back to normal. And I'll explain everything later. I know it's a lot to ask, but can we put it on the back burner for now?"

It was a lot to ask. Dallon hurt him. Brendon deserved an explanation. He knew that.

"Yeah. Okay." He agreed anyway, because it was simple math. If he respected Dallon then Dallon would respect him. That was the way relationships worked, he'd heard. "Then maybe you can come over after school? If you want to. Try and, uh. Get things back to normal." It was a good plan. Spend time with him, refresh, and pretend the fight never happened. Talk and maybe not talk. Make up for what he’d done, show him that there was something to lose. He would get them back to normal, alright.

Dallon nodded, and Brendon smiled to himself. "Yeah. I'll ask my mom."

"Cool." Brendon nodded too, satisfied because he could prove to Dallon that he was worth sticking around, and Dallon smiled back before he turned back around to face the front of the room just as their peers filed in.

Brendon sat on the steps during his study block that afternoon and watched as Dallon stood silently and painted bright orange stripes over the background on the mural. He wasn't going to rush him. He promised he wouldn't rush him. But Dallon said he wanted to let things get back to normal, and that was what Brendon was going to do. Get things back to normal. Try to remind him that they were good together. That part probably wasn't Dallon's intention, but it was Brendon's. At some point he just had to give them a push.

He watched Dallon paint quiet back and forth strokes like the calm before the storm and felt like an idiot for all of this. This fighting and animosity. He knew Dallon. At least he thought he did.

He needed to fix this. Make Dallon forget all the things he wished he had never seen. He knew the darkest sides of Brendon even when he tried to hide them, but there were sides that Brendon would like to expose more of.

When Dallon parked in the private lot behind the diner and turned off the engine, Brendon practically leaped out of the passenger seat with his bag slung over his shoulder, bouncing up and down on his heels. The day had been awkward at first, sitting silently together until Dallon brought it up in passing. “Hey, about Friday, I just wanted to let you know that everything’s good between us,” Dallon had said, and Brendon wanted to believe it.

He needed to know why he disappeared. He needed to know what he did wrong. But today was for pretending they weren't on shaky ground.

"Come on." Brendon urged while Dallon took his sweet time letting himself out of the car, rocking impatiently and feeling his own desire itch in his fingertips. “Dallon!” He whined childishly when Dallon smiled to himself, this sinister smile, like he was being slow on purpose because he liked to play around.

Brendon smiled cheekily and took off toward the diner without another word, so Dallon rolled his eyes with a laugh but sped up to a jog to catch up. “How was your day?” He asked, hooking an arm around his neck. It felt right, normal, and that was his intention, wasn’t it? Trick him into thinking everything was alright?

“Fine, you?”

“Fine,” Dallon said, finding that animosity again, and followed Brendon up the stairs.

The house was silent, no one was home, and he hadn’t told Dallon but he knew. He could hide things too. He toed off his shoes quickly, eager because this couldn’t have worked out more perfectly, and took Dallon’s hand to tug him up to his room before he could even get his own shoe fully off.

He didn't stop pulling Dallon along until his bedroom door was closed behind them, tossing his bag aside and guiding Dallon toward the bed with open palms on his chest, not even attempting to be subtle about what he wanted. Dallon let out a laugh, Brendon was never really like this, but this was with full intention. This was guilt. Dallon knew that.

"Brendon, Brendon, slow down." He reached up to grip Brendon's biceps when the latter started to straddle him with want clear in his eyes. Brendon sat back on Dallon's hips hesitantly, why the hell was he stopping him, and Dallon grabbed at his thighs, making him stop. Brendon pouted, and Dallon tugged him close. "Hey. Just lay with me for a minute."

Stalling for a second, Brendon complied and slid off of him to tuck himself against his side, because what was one minute? They had time. Dallon scooted over from the middle of the bed to the right side, Brendon snuggled up beside him, curling an arm around his chest like a shield. Materializing him. Reminding himself that Dallon was real. He was here, wasn't he? Things had to be okay.

Dallon wrapped an arm around Brendon, had the other in his hair, but even as Brendon laid sleepily and warmly against him with saccharine silence, he ached with the feeling that a piece of Dallon’s heart was broken because of him, and that Dallon had been the one to steal a piece of his own to replace it. "Dallon?"

He ran a hand up Brendon's arm and thumbed the hem of his sleeve mindlessly, fingers wrapped firmly around it. "Yeah?"

He directed his gaze away from Dallon’s and instead looked down at his chin, avoiding his eyes pointedly. "You're not still mad at me, are you?"

Dallon's eyebrows knit together in worry, and he cupped Brendon's cheek with his hand to tilt his head up. Hesitantly, Brendon met his gaze and Dallon shook his head, urging a frown because he didn’t get it. How could Dallon be so forgiving and kind even after Brendon acted the way he did? "No, Brendon. Please don't think that I'm not gonna forgive you."

"But you said it yourself, Dal, holding a grudge-"

"I know, Bren." He thumbed his cheek, didn’t want him to say it. "But with you, it's different."

Was that really what he thought? What if he did something unforgivable? He couldn't... he couldn't imagine losing him. Brendon had fucked up, and not even just with Dallon he'd fucked up. It was accidental but it was still who he was, and he couldn't make promises he couldn't swear to keep. But he was different. Dallon said it himself. That was only slightly comforting, if at all, but anxiety still stirred in his stomach and he tilted his head up to rest his chin on Dallon’s shoulder.

“How's it different?"

Dallon dipped his head, searching his eyes for something that would remedy what had been bruised already. "You're my boyfriend, Brendon.” He pushed a lock of hair behind Brendon’s ear, distracted. That was supposed to mean something. “It was our first fight, okay? We both said some really stupid things, we’re both guilty of that, but it's not like we even meant any of them. For the past year we’ve been so civil and good to each other, I honestly think a fight was long overdue. Maybe we needed to yell at each other. It’s normal to fight once in a while. Now I just want the whole weekend to be behind us."

Brendon smiled warmly, eyes flickering between Dallon’s. “I do too.”

“Good." He tucked his hair behind his ear again, smiling back innocently though at this point, Brendon would laugh at the assumption. "Then let’s move past it.” Brendon smiled, satisfied, and Dallon could say he forgave him all he wanted but he could always use a friendly reminder.

“Let’s.” He agreed, trying his best to look seductive.

Slowly but with purpose, Brendon pushed himself up with open palms on Dallon's chest and let his eyes wander as Dallon’s gaze followed him curiously. He shifted one thigh in between Dallon's, leaned down to press his lips to the warm skin on his neck, tugged at the collar of his shirt. Smirked at the blush on Dallon's cheeks as he let out a breath and tilted his head to the side. Brendon bit underneath his ear, smiling victoriously to himself. He knew he wouldn't refute. It had been a while, anyway, and they'd been so out of sync.

"Bren," Dallon whispered carefully when the former began to move his body in downward motions against his boyfriend's thigh. Brendon nodded, eyes half closed and breathing heavier, but he reached out to grab Brendon's hips to tell him to stop, and that was not what Brendon was anticipating. "Your family..."

He shook his head quickly, worried that Dallon was trying to ruin his plan. He would get his way if it killed him. "Mom's out, Mason is at school, Kara is with her boyfriend, everyone else is working. Don't think about it." He whispered before his lips touched Dallon's slowly like he'd been waiting for it all day. He tasted the stardusty effervescence of cherry vanilla chapstick against his mouth and let out a wanton sigh against it when he was sure he could. "We're alone."

Suddenly, it was like a flip switched. "Thank God." Dallon caught his lips again, rougher than Brendon had, and tugged at the hem of his shirt with voracious but lenient fingers. Brendon thought he never would, his body was aching to be touched and felt and loved and adored. He’d been feeling so lonely. He shifted to pull his own shirt off while Dallon did the same, and the latter tugged at Brendon's sweatpants deliberately to tell him to get rid of them, effective immediately.

With a hushed giggle Brendon did as he was told, fingers fumbling with Dallon's as they both tried to get him undressed. Brendon tossed the clothes onto a pile on the floor at the end of his bed, itching to unbutton Dallon's jeans, fuck, why were they still on? But with all the time in the world, he leaned down to trail his lips down his jawline as he returned to straddling Dallon's leg. He pushed his knee in between Dallon's thighs just to catch his attention, and when he let out a gasp Brendon’s mouth caught it quick.

Dallon mewled and when Brendon pulled his mouth away, Dallon bit down on his bottom lip and tugged him right back. His fingers anchored on his hips, and Brendon's mouth curled into a smile against the kiss as he grinded against Dallon's thigh, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans desperately. "I love you," Brendon mumbled against his mouth, touching his face and breathing heavy and moving his hips fervently.

Dallon laughed buoyantly against his lips at Brendon's desperate attempts to get off, though it wasn't derisive or malicious, but rather enamored. Brendon needed this, Dallon needed to know why he loved him, they needed to meet each other halfway. Dallon shifted his thigh upward and Brendon squeaked desperately, fuck, it really had been way too long.

"I know, baby, but don't do that, or we won't get to anything more than-" He was interrupted by the door opening without warning, and on instinct Brendon scrambled away from him, eyes wide when his mother walked in unannounced.

“Brendon, I told you-“ She started, but words died in her throat when she saw them. Brendon pulled his knees to his chest, humiliated, and Dallon looked away in embarrassment as he wrapped his arms around his bare chest, covering himself up. “...To leave the door open.” She hesitated, sighed, looked at the two of them and realized immediately what was going on. “Alright, let’s go, both of you, we need to talk.”

“Okay.” Brendon peeped, and his mother bent down to pick up his clothes and handed them to him. She looked away to give them privacy and Dallon hurried to pull on his shirt, Brendon dressing beside him, and he swore she wasn’t going to be home, she said she’d be out.

She stood at the doorway and pointed into the hallway and he wondered if it would look like an accident if he threw himself down the stairs. Dallon followed quickly, buttoning his shirt with his head down, and almost tripped on Brendon’s heels as they raced downstairs to the kitchen.

“Sit.” She demanded, intimidating them to sit in unison without protest on one side of the table with her on the other.

Brendon’s face was burning red and Dallon was mortified, staring at her with wide eyes, and she opened her mouth to speak but he rushed out a panicked, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Dallon.” She assured him, not exactly setting him at ease as he sat up straighter. Brendon was worried about his spine. Dallon nodded and Brendon was close to tears, leg shaking uncontrollably under the table, he thought she said she would be out when he got home. He swore... “I just... I never talked to you both about sex. And I didn’t exactly realize that... that it was a thing that you were interested in. So let’s talk. Brendon, is there anything you’d like to say?”

“Um, yeah. I’d like to propose a privacy clause.” He muttered, avoiding her eyes, and he was halfway to eighteen, he deserved to have some privacy in his own room.

“And I’d like to propose a no sex clause, but I have five young adults living under my roof. Anything else?” She pointed out, and he shook his head, too embarrassed to think of anything. There was a reason he had avoided talking to his parents about sex for so long. “Okay.” She started but paused again, not even knowing where to start. He wanted to get out of this, he needed to, maybe he could fake a heart attack, would anybody believe that- “Dallon, has your mom talked to you about this?”

Dallon nodded crisply and Brendon kept his head down. “Separately and with Brendon.”

“Okay.” She said, eyes drawn back to her son though he looked away to hide the tears of embarrassment in his eyes. She almost walked in on him having sex. If she walked in a minute later she would have seen him naked. Out of everything he’d done, tripping in the hallway his freshman year and breaking his glasses in front of everyone, getting laughed at in the locker room because he was smaller and scrawnier than everyone else, being locked in a bathroom stall at school for three whole blocks, this had to be the most mortifying. “I’m assuming this isn’t your first time.” She added, and they both nodded in unison. “So when was?”

“July.” Brendon peeped.

“Alright.” She rubbed her hands together, looking between them apologetically because she had to do this though Brendon really wished she wouldn’t. “I’m not going to tell you guys not to have sex. I can’t, because you’re teenage boys and I know you won’t listen. But I’ve had this talk with all of your siblings, Brendon, and just because you’re with a boy doesn’t mean it’s any different.”

“I know.” He said, horrified, and this couldn’t get any worse.

“You need to use protection.” She started, and he knew, it wasn’t like he was going to get pregnant, and it wasn’t like he wasn’t careful, and- “You need to be safe. You could get STDs or STIs, and HIV, okay, and-“

“Thank you for stereotyping me, mama,” Brendon muttered under his breath.

“Listen to me, Brendon, it’s a risk.” She asserted, and he knew it was, and he sat back in his seat and looked away. “There are condoms in the drawer under the sink in the bathroom. They are there for you and your brothers and sisters, they know this system, and whoever takes the last one has to replace them. I don’t count them. But I want you two to be responsible.”

"We are,” Brendon promised, nodding too much because he wanted this to end.

“Good. And Dallon, you’re legally an adult now, yes?” He nodded promptly, confident or at least faking it. “So I assume that you’re buying your own condoms?”

"I am," Dallon confirmed. "My mom has talked to me about being safe. She always has extra ones at home just in case, but I’m on top of it." He touched Brendon’s thigh under the table. “I’m always on top of it.”

Brendon looked down, burning red, and his mom added, “Brendon, I have very few rules in this house, you’ve lived here seventeen and a half years so you know them very well. What are they?”

He sighed, he couldn’t believe she was doing this in front of his boyfriend, treating him like a child. “No violence, no sneaking out, we have to call if we’re going out or staying somewhere else, and no closing doors when you’ve got someone who’s not a friend in your room.”

"Right. And Dallon, I love you, you know I do. And I don't mind that you two are having sex, as long as you're in love and it’s consensual." They both nodded to confirm that yes, they were in love and yes, it was definitely consensual. "But if I am in the house, or your father is in the house, then your doors stay open. If we're both gone, you can do what you please. Just make sure you follow my rules when I am around."

"We will," Dallon promised, and Brendon nodded again, he wasn’t going to make this mistake again. “So, um, is that... is that it?”

“Yes, Dallon, that’s it, unless you boys have any questions?”

“No, that’s okay,” Brendon mumbled.

“I’m good,” Dallon added.

“Alright, then we’re done!” She pat the table and stood up so they did too, moving in sync unlike how they had been lately.

“Um, I’m gonna go, then. I have a lot of homework.” He gestured awkwardly toward the door, shifting his weight uncomfortably because he suddenly felt like he was invading. Brendon nodded quickly, that was probably for the best, and Dallon added, “I’ll call you tonight.”

“Sure. Bye.” Brendon agreed, and Dallon kissed his cheek before he made his escape, with the right idea because Brendon rushed upstairs before his mother could catch him.

Kicking his door shut, he went to crawl into bed and stared at the ceiling hopelessly, still wishing he’d gotten some relief because it had been a while and he was starting to feel desperate. As he counted the tiles of the ceiling there was a knock at his door, and he was expecting it, she had more to say, she never left things alone. “Can we talk?” She asked quietly, poking her head into the room.

He shrugged and looked away bitterly so she took it as a yes, pushing the door shut behind her and going to lay beside him on his bed. He scooted over and she turned to look at him, waiting, and he didn’t want to keep having this conversation. He was sick of this conversation. Sighing in defeat, he admitted, “You embarrassed me.”

“Embarrassed you.” She scoffed. “Brendon, you’ve embarrassed me plenty of times. When you were a toddler and you didn’t get your way you would screech at the top of your lungs and take off your clothes to humiliate us into giving you what you wanted. Every time. It’s my turn.”

“Oh, god, did I really do that?” He groaned, and hoped that down the line that wouldn’t be a story she told Dallon or his future family.

“Yes, but that’s not the point.” She elbowed him in the side and he folded his arms, pouting, because he knew she was disappointed, he was never one to break the rules. Brendon liked being the one who didn’t break the rules. But she turned to look at him like she was imagining him at that age again, just a toddler but still so dramatic, and it was just growing pains. He was just in pain, trying to repair it. "You broke the rules, Brendon."

"I thought you weren't home." He argued defensively.

"I was grocery shopping; how long do you think that takes?" She retorted, and Brendon let out an exasperated sigh because he didn’t know. He thought he had time. He thought he was doing the right thing. And he knew she was coming from a place of love, all of her lectures were, and they made him feel so small, so minuscule, but he knew. “You guys were just fighting.”

He squirmed uncomfortably, not knowing how to tell her that he was going to sleep with Dallon to convince him to stay. “We were... making up.”

She sighed and he looked away, humiliated because he knew it was stupid. “Sex is a big deal, Brendon.” She told him, and he'd heard it a million times but still blushed every time. He could be such a child about it sometimes. But there was a difference between hearing it in health class at twelve years old and actually having experienced it. A big deal? He could tell her that. "I know."

"Good." She pat his hand gently and he tried to smile, but couldn’t bring himself to. “I just... I always hoped you would talk to me about it when it happened. Confide in me like you always do. I used to wonder how I would feel when my youngest...” She paused, and Brendon picked at his almost entirely chipped nail polish awkwardly. He used to wonder how he would feel too. “This isn’t how I was expecting to find out. I wish you had told me.”

He shuffled uncomfortably; he knew he should have told her but never knew how. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want you to say something that would make me freak out, like are you sure you’re really ready, or make sure you’re really in love with him or something. I didn’t want you to judge me or think less of me or hate me. And I didn’t want anybody else’s input but mine. I was freaking out for weeks trying to wrap my head around us potentially doing it, and Dallon and I talked about it before, we planned it, made sure we were both ready. I didn’t wanna keep talking about it. I talked about it enough. I just wanted to do it.”

“Brendon, I could never judge you or hate you. I know Dallon means a lot to you. I knew it was going to end up happening. I just wasn’t expecting it to come as such a shock like this.” She assured him, and he knew that now, but it didn’t seem so silly at the time. Everyone always seemed to have something to say about them. He just wanted this to be between him and Dallon. They were quiet for a minute, and Brendon wouldn’t look at her but he could hear her calculating. “You lost your virginity, Bren.” She thought out loud suddenly, more to herself than anything. But Brendon’s cheeks were still bright red as he nodded, and he guessed he did. He really did. “So tell me about it now! I wanna know. As your friend, not your mom.” She grinned at him when he half smiled up at the ceiling. “How’d it happen? Were you okay after? Were you scared? I wanted to make sure that you would be okay afterward but I never even knew.”

“Yeah, no, I didn’t really tell anyone. I mean, Kara cause she asked and daddy cause he took me to get tested, but we wanted to keep it all to ourselves.” His words came out softer than he’d meant for them to, but they felt secretive in themselves nonetheless because in a way, they were. “We never have anything else to ourselves.”

“I get it.” She agreed quietly, and she knew how hard it was in this house to get privacy. How hard it was for Brendon out in the world, too.

“So... he told me he was ready. Cause we were waiting until we knew we were real. And I wasn’t... like, expecting it. I thought it was gonna be later. Like we were gonna take everything slow. Slower than we had been. But he told me that he was ready. And I had already been thinking about it, and then I was thinking about him, and it’s like... you always think about it until you’re actually there. And then I was just scared, but excited, and I trust him, you know? I really trust him. And I knew I wanted it to be him, and I knew I wanted it. So we talked about it, and we planned it, and we did it. And I was scared, but it wasn’t bad. It was comforting. Cause I knew he didn’t have any idea what he was doing either.”

She turned to smile at him with this nostalgia; her youngest wasn’t such a baby anymore. He smiled back, not understanding a parent’s love for her child but not having to because one day he would, and right now he knew a different kind of love, a more childish love, a fairytale kind of love. “So you were okay.” She said, and it sounded like all she ever wanted for him.

“I was okay.” He confirmed, and found himself smiling despite himself. “Yeah, I was okay. It hurt a lot at first but I’m really glad I did it. It felt like it belonged to us. Like the world did. I love feeling that way with him. And I felt safe. And it was out of my comfort zone, and it was weird and kind of awkward but good. It was special. I’m happy. And I love him, mama.”

“I know you do.” She whispered, her eyes smiling back at him too. “I’m glad you’re happy, Bren.”

“Thank you.” His words were full of sincerity because it meant something to know that other people cared about his happiness. “But still, mama, you didn’t have to lecture me in front of Dallon.” He added, and she sighed. Throwing his hands up in exasperation, he exclaimed, “Seriously! He’s my boyfriend! We’ve been together for like, eight months. We spent almost every day this summer together. You didn’t think we’d be sleeping together?”

“No, I figured you’d be doing it.” She admitted, and he turned to look at her incredulously. Even he didn’t think that he’d be doing it. “I did. I mean, I pictured it differently, you telling me or asking for advice or something, but I’m not surprised.”

“You can’t blame me for not asking for advice. I don’t ask anyone for advice. It’s like... you’re not gay, so you wouldn’t know what to prepare me for anyway.”

“I know.” She agreed, patting his hand reassuringly. “But then you can’t blame me for being emotional about this. You’re my youngest, Brendon. You’re my baby. And I know you’re not actually a baby, you’re seventeen, you can do what you want with your body, but it’s a milestone.”

“I know. But I guess it’s just... it’s not totally fair. Being so overprotective when you’re not with anyone else. You have to let me grow up. I’m trying so hard to. And besides, it’s not like it’s some random guy. Dallon’s my boyfriend. I’m in love with him. And we’re being safe.”

“I know, Bren, and I’m glad that you are, and I trust you and Dallon. I think he’s good for you. And you’ve been doing so well with him. But I need you to take me seriously. Be safe. Be careful.”

"I know the do's and don’ts, mama."

“I’m not talking about your body, Brendon, I’m talking about your heart.” She poked his chest with her finger. He looked down at where her touch lingered, he wasn’t expecting that; people always told him to use protection but he never thought about armor. “I’m not going to make you talk to me about this because I know I can’t understand. I want you to have your privacy and feel safe. But if you need advice, or somebody to talk to, then I want you to feel like you can come to me. I want you to feel like you can trust me. And if you don’t feel comfortable doing that, then I want you to talk to your siblings or someone else you trust because I don’t want you to go through these kinds of things alone. Love is a tricky thing. I want you to learn how to navigate it on your own. But I don’t want you to have to do that if you can’t.”

“Okay.” He peeped, shifting his weight though he appreciated it more than she knew, and more than he knew how to say it. “Thank you, mama.”

"Of course, baby." She sat up and put a hand on his shoulder, reminiscence in her eyes like she was seeing a different Brendon. "I love you, keiki. I'm gonna go start dinner. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

"Okay. I love you too." He nodded, trying to come up with some other way to thank her, but she went to kiss his forehead and pat his arm, a thanks for listening pat, before she got up to let herself out of his room. And it felt cluttered all of a sudden, too suffocating, as he turned over on his bed to groan into his pillow because he couldn’t believe this was his life. “Shit.” He muttered under his breath, going to find his phone on his side table and searching for Dallon’s number to call him, apologize, as if they hadn’t been through enough lately. As if they weren’t already on thin ice. The line connected after a few rings and he blurted out a prompt, “I’m so sorry.”

Dallon laughed, and Brendon reached up to thumb at his bottom lip absentmindedly. "It's fine, B. She means well."

He flopped down dramatically and buried his face in his mattress. "That was the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me.” He complained, voice muffled.

"Yeah, it wasn’t one of my top moments either." He sighed, sketched through a laugh, and Brendon couldn't help but smile to himself at their dysfunction. "Anyway, d'you wanna do something Saturday night? To make up for this?”

“Sure, yeah.” He rolled over onto his back and covered his face with his hand, because it still felt so weird. It felt forced. “What would you wanna do, then?”

"Um, I was thinking we could go for a drive or something and just spend some time together alone. I know a good all night diner off the highway that we could go to. I just wanna see you.” He sighed, like the world was what was tearing them apart. Brendon knew he loved him, it wasn’t like that was what he was questioning, but when they had been estranged for weeks he started to wonder.

“Sure, that sounds good. I wanna see you too.” There were tears in his eyes when he said it, and he didn’t realize how much he missed him until he felt like they were on borrowed time. He tilted his face against his arm, sniffling, and added, “Did you make a top joke to my mom?”

“Yes.” Dallon laughed, and Brendon tried to smile. “I was trying to make light of an awkward situation.”

“You’ve always been pretty good at that.” Brendon let his eyes fall shut because all of a sudden he was exhausted. “I love you, Dallon, you know.” He added, because maybe he hadn’t said it enough. Maybe that was what got them here.

“I know, Urie, you too. Are you okay?” He asked, and Brendon sniffled again, he really didn’t know what was wrong with him. They were fine. Weren’t they?

“I’m fine. I’ll let you go, you have homework. I’ll see you later, though, okay?” He masked his voice with a smile and Dallon was skeptical but promised to text him later anyway, saying goodbye because Brendon was just stubborn enough to hide. The problem was that he didn’t know what he was hiding. It was just hard to figure out his feelings when he’d spent so long oppressing them.

Anxious and irritable, Brendon called Tyler and glared at the ceiling helplessly as he listened to the ringing on the other line, wondering why Dallon still bothered with him because he was humiliating, his family was humiliating, and he wasn’t sure how to fix what he’d broken. “Hi, princess!”

“Hi, not the time, I’ve had the worst fucking day. Can I come over? I need to get out of this house.” He covered his face with his hand, and just thinking about it gave him a migraine.

“Yeah, sure, if you wanna. Do you want ice cream?” Brendon made a noise of approval as he thumbed his sheets aimlessly. “Okay, I’ll make sure we have some. Text me when you’re here, then. Bye.”

“Bye.” Brendon sighed, pushing himself up to sit and looking around his room as he dropped his phone on the bed. He felt so messy all of a sudden. So convoluted. He got up, he couldn’t be here anymore, and told his mom he was gonna eat at Tyler’s before he escaped, hopping on the bus across the street.

Sitting up in Tyler’s room, he dug a spoon miserably into a carton of chocolate ice cream and glared down at it because he didn’t have anyone else to blame. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Tyler asked, reaching out to take a spoonful when Brendon stopped to think. “Cause you’re all mopey and I don’t like emo on you, Brenny bear. Talk to me.”

Brendon sighed, taking the spoon into his mouth with depletion. “I tried to sleep with Dallon because I’m scared he’s gonna leave me and I wanted to show him what he’d lose but when I was wearing almost nothing my mom walked in on us and gave us this long, embarrassing lecture and then gave me this talk and I’m humiliated.”

“Awe, Brendon.” Tyler started, but he couldn’t bite back his laughter. “Holy shit. At least you weren’t completely naked. There’s always a silver lining.”

“Shut up.” He groaned, covering his face with his hands because it sounded even worse out loud. How did he get here? He used to be afraid of sex. He used to be scared of having sex. He used to be scared of people touching him at all. He used to be scared of everything. Now he was someone who thought about it all the time, and made jokes about it, and was walked in on when he was about to be fucked desperately. “I just feel like... like my life is just a series of unfortunate events. Like one shitty thing after another happens and I’m on the verge of losing my boyfriend and my sanity, honestly, and I feel like I’m never gonna be on solid ground with Dallon again.”

“Hm. You’ve got some shit going on.” He pointed his spoon at him. “And wasn’t that a book series or something?”

“Yeah. I bet it’s based on me. They saw my life and thought hey, Brendon Urie is a fucking mess! He’d be perfect! And then they wrote about me. So my misery could be broadcasted everywhere.” He threw his hands up in the air and Tyler stared at him, half smiling.

“You never read it, did you?”

“No. Point is,” Brendon started, and Tyler looked away so Brendon wouldn’t see him laugh. “I just feel like everything’s testing me. My mom being overprotective, and my fighting with Dallon, and being paranoid about everything, it’s just... I want things to go back to the way they were but I don’t know what to do. Obviously trying to convince Dallon to sleep with me didn’t work. And like, I know she’s coming from a place of love. My mom. She wouldn’t care so much if she wasn’t worried about me. I just wish she would let me do what I need to do.”

“Trying to coerce someone into having sex with you isn’t romantic, Bren, and especially not someone like Dallon. He has more self-respect than to let you take advantage of him because he feels bad about fighting with you.”

“Hey, whoa.” Brendon put a hand up, shocked. “That’s not fair. I wasn’t trying to-“

“And your mom is valid, Brendon, considering you’re still a baby and she doesn’t want you to be corrupt or anything.” Tyler defended her, and Brendon pouted childishly though maybe he was right about his still being a baby.

“Dallon’s not gonna corrupt me. And I’ve already had sex with him. I just thought it would remind him that we have something good.” He looked away, hurt, and Tyler frowned. “It was stupid.”

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“ He sighed. “I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything, Brendon, I just mean... you can’t do that to him. You need to let him make his own decisions. He’s fragile enough.”

Brendon folded his arms, he guessed that was true. “Yeah, I know.”

“How is Dallon, anyway? With you and otherwise?”

“He’s... I don't know.” Brendon sighed, leaning forward to rest his chin in his hand. None of this made any sense anymore. He just wanted things back to normal. “We haven’t talked about our relationship or what happened like, at all. And he said eventually we will, but I just... what if we never do?”

“Make him talk about it.” He said like it were obvious. Brendon looked up at him, quirking an eyebrow, and Tyler shrugged. “Seriously. You can’t neglect the aftermath of a fight. It’s not right. Your relationship will never be the same.”

Brendon looked at him calculatedly. “He’s so... respectful.” He said slowly, and Tyler looked at him as if he didn’t understand what the bad part was. “I mean, I don't know. It’s not a fault. It’s just weird that he and my mother get along so well, you know? Every parent is skeptical of the person their kid is seeing. At least, at first they are. And she loved him immediately. Like it’s meant to be. Us being together. So what if this ruins us? What if we can’t come back from that stupid fucking fight?”

“I forgot you were one to believe in fate. You Mormons always are.” Tyler waved at him dismissively. “Maybe it’s all the Lord. Maybe you just need to take note from Him. What would Jesus do?”

“Um, Jesus would tell his boyfriend where he disappeared to so he could stop freaking out about it and go back to trusting him.”

Tyler rolled his eyes, smacking Brendon’s arm. “Seriously, tiny, you can’t really be basing your relationship on the idea that it’s meant to be. There’s no way for you to know that. And besides, you should have more of an open mind by now. You and Dallon being together is your choice. Not anyone else’s.”

Brendon looked away because he knew he was right. He just didn’t want to be that boy, thinking it was meant to be, knowing that it wasn’t. Hoping on faith because he wasn’t strong enough to make the choice himself. “It’s easy to think everything’s in someone else’s hands.”

“No offense, Bren, but this isn’t something you should put in someone else’s hands.” He told him, and Brendon hated to hear the truth but Tyler was right. He just didn’t want to face the consequences of having to make his own decisions. “You put too much gravity on your relationships with other people. You need to have a good relationship with yourself. Don’t rely on other people to make you who you are.”

“Stop, I hate when you get all philosophical.” Brendon shoved at his knee, but he understood. He just wasn’t good at trying to find a balance between being independent and being isolated. “I just worry because I don’t want it to be all for nothing. I love Dallon. I wanna be with him forever. I know it’s dramatic, and so high school boy of me, but I don’t care. I love him. And us fighting is terrifying to me.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Brendon. I promise. But you don’t want your life to revolve around this boy.”

Brendon looked him over, nodding slowly though he didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want his entire life to revolve around Dallon. He didn’t want his entire life to revolve around anyone but himself. But he and Dallon were okay. They were okay. He didn’t have a reason to be so scared. It was just that something felt off. Something felt wrong. And he intended to find out what it was.


	29. Chapter 28: Hide and Seek (Life Before Him)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> leave some good ol comments friends!

A little bit of habitualness was creeping back up into their routine, but that was just what it was doing: creeping. Slowly, surprisingly, but it was still there, lingering. Brendon was still on edge, trying to be extra nice to Dallon though Dallon told him that he didn’t have to try so hard. But it wasn’t his fault if he felt like they were one conversation away from breaking. Everything was forced smiles and trying not to fight when neither of them knew what to say.

Brendon loved him. So why was this so difficult?

First it was the Brendon Urie Welcoming Committee at school in September, and then feeling lost between him and Dallon, and now he felt like he was drowning in lies. He didn’t know how to decipher the truth anymore. They danced around each other for a few days, Brendon going to the library for lunch to catch up on homework and Dallon working on his mural, and it wasn’t like they were trying to avoid each other. It was just happening that way.

He wanted this to be his year. He didn’t want to be distancing himself from his boyfriend and feeling like everything was about to explode. He knew he didn’t have to distance himself, and everything was fine, it was okay, Dallon wasn’t mad. But Brendon was, or maybe he was just confused, looking for answers, and he didn’t want to be but he was.

“Mama, I’m going!” Brendon called as he trotted down the stairs, tugging on his sweater sleeves, having looked in the mirror for twenty minutes trying to make himself look appealing because suddenly it felt like he was going on his first date. Still awkward and fumbling because he didn’t know what he was doing. These days he still didn’t.

She followed him to the front room and leaned against the doorframe, watching him pull on his converse and tying them twice so the laces wouldn’t catch. “You’re going out with Dallon?” She asked, and he nodded aimlessly, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “Okay. Have fun, then, not too much fun, please let me know if you’re staying over his house or going anywhere else, and no fighting, okay?”

He smiled up at her when he stood up straight, almost stumbling over his own feet. “Sure, no fighting. No too-much-fun. Do you know where my hat is? I think it’s cold out.”

“Yeah, I hung it up over here.” She went to grab his yellow beanie from the hook and handed it to him, smiling to herself as he tugged it on because she always thought he looked adorable in hats. “Stay safe tonight, honey.” She said suddenly, and he rolled his eyes as he zipped up his jacket, tugging at the bottom of it uneasily.

“I can assure you, there will be no funny business. There probably won’t be any business at all. I don’t even know if Dallon and I are... whatever.” He shrugged, and she folded her arms with worry, but he hadn’t exactly been talking about it. “Yeah, I’ll be safe. I’ll let you know when I’m coming home. I have my keys just in case.”

“Okay. Good luck, ipo.” She kissed his forehead and he forced a smile, checking his pockets to make sure he had everything before he let himself out, keeping his fingers crossed.

Closing the downstairs door he took a seat on the outside step, looking around patiently because Dallon always ran a little late when he took the side roads. He didn’t mind, he was just a little on edge, but the air was crisp and the sky was pale gold, the sun stretching down the road like a warning. He squinted into it for a minute, tapping his feet against the pavement.

“You look into the sun too long, you’ll go blind.”

Brendon turned to look at the road and Dallon nodded at him from the driver's seat, half smiling in a hello. Brendon smiled back at him and stood up, leaves crunching under his shoes. “Hey, hi. You’re probably right. My eyes already don’t work right.” He gestured to his glasses, circling the car and sliding into the passenger seat when Dallon pushed it open for him from inside.

“Hi. Sorry I’m a little later than I said I would be. I couldn’t find my keys, and then I took side roads to avoid traffic but not a lot of people were out anyway.” Dallon apologized, leaning over to kiss his cheek as a formality, though even that felt forced. “Thank you for waiting.”

“No, it was only a few minutes.” Brendon leaned forward to twist the heat up, he always liked the car warm. Pulling his seatbelt on, he added, “I love fall. It’s so nice out.”

“It is. It’s a little chilly but it’s better than hundred-degree summers. You’re down for eating, right?” Dallon asked, watching and waiting until Brendon was safely in before he pulled out into the road, turning to catch him raise his eyebrows. “Because if you’re not then we can do something else. We could go to Boulder Bowl or something instead. Do you like bowling? I don’t think I know that about you.”

“I don’t hate bowling. But no, it’s okay, I’m hungry. I’m always hungry, Dallon. It’s me.” He laughed, and he couldn’t figure out why this was so weird. This wasn’t it, was it? Their last night together before Dallon called it off? “It’s just me.”

“Yeah.” Dallon agreed softly, voice disbelieving, and Brendon swallowed thickly, trying not to think about it. “How is your weekend so far?” He asked then, shifting the subject because they didn’t do so well talking about them when they were both avoiding it.

“Better now.” He said quietly, and even after everything he still meant it. “Yours?”

“Better now.” He mimicked, and Brendon looked away awkwardly, smiling nonetheless because maybe this was reparable. Maybe everything was, and nothing stayed broken forever. He turned back to look at rosy cheeks, crystal blue eyes, the way they flickered as he watched the road, the sun no longer glaring but now hiding behind the mountains in the distance. Brendon didn’t know what he would do if he lost him. The stakes were high with this one. He couldn’t keep messing up.

They sat in a comfortable silence as Brendon shook his leg anxiously and Dallon drummed on the steering wheel, taking him to a diner over half an hour away because he just loved to drive aimlessly sometimes, and Brendon liked to get lost. If things went wrong he could just close his eyes and pretend he was going somewhere else. Somewhere where things were okay. Where Brendon hardly made mistakes and Dallon forgave him unconditionally for the ones he did make.

They’d spent months building this up. A kiss in the supply closet and hands held awkwardly at the start of something so damn beautiful, sharing their bodies on summer evenings, fumbling hands, unbuttoning clothes, and on foggy mornings with the ocean at their feet. This couldn’t all be for nothing.

Dallon twisted up the radio suddenly and it crackled when they crossed through the desert, but Dallon hummed and Brendon leaned his forehead against the glass, watching the sky fade like it had a story to tell and wondering how he hadn’t ruined what they had sooner. How he would keep from ruining it again.

“Hey, Brendon?” Dallon said suddenly as the headlights reflected off the yellow lines on the road, and Brendon looked up at him silently, scared to speak because the last time they did this it nearly killed them. “Um, I respect you. A lot. And I love having sex with you, because I see it as a declaration of love and our commitment to each other and that's really important to me. Sex is really important to me. I wouldn’t be sleeping with you if I didn’t think we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. I never told you that, but...” He slid a hand down his own thigh, and Brendon didn’t know. He just assumed because they planned it he never believed in that. “It’s not like I see sex before marriage as a sin or anything. It’s just important to me that something like that is more... sacred. And so I appreciate that we can trust each other and be physically and emotionally vulnerable like that.”

Brendon’s eyebrows knit in confusion and he nodded, tucking his phone in between his thighs. “Yeah, I agree.”

Dallon looked back at him and then looked away, quiet for a moment before he added, “I know that the other day you were trying to get things back to normal. And trying to... y’know. Get my forgiveness through sex. And as much as I want to be with you in that way it makes me feel kind of gross about doing it as a bandaid opposed to talking about our problems. I don’t want sympathy sex or pity sex. I’m not a charity. Just because I did what I did doesn’t mean you owe me any favors. And you don’t have to try and sleep with me for me to forgive you. I already did. I told you I did. And I don’t want you to act that way because you’re not. You’re not easy so don’t try to be.”

Brendon stared at him speechlessly, he didn’t even know what to say. He didn’t know Dallon put it together. He didn’t know he thought that hard about it. It was a stupid plan, and he never meant for it to happen like that. “I’m sorry.” He apologized, and he felt disgusting, like he was using him, like he didn’t value him. “I didn’t mean for it to come across so bad. I just wanted to get things back to normal. I thought that maybe us being together would like... remind you of how much you love me.”

“Bren, you don’t need to do that.” Dallon sighed, and suddenly Brendon felt like climbing out of his body and leaving it in the passenger seat of Dallon’s car to make a home in the desert. “You don’t. I don’t want you to be so scared of losing me that you do something you’re not comfortable with.”

“But I’m comfortable with sleeping with you,” Brendon argued, not meaning to snap.

“But I don’t want you to feel like you have to.” Dallon reasoned, and Brendon dipped his head to rest against the back of his seat, tears in his eyes though he didn’t know why.

“You’re the weirdest person I’ve ever met,” Brendon said quietly, and Dallon turned to look at him too, an eyebrow raised skeptically though he was smiling. And Brendon laughed, loud and stupid, Dallon loved his laugh and it made him laugh too despite there being nothing to laugh about. “Seriously. If I asked anybody who found me attractive right now to have sex with me, I bet they would. Because it’s sex. Teenage boys don’t turn down sex. But you’re... different. You respect me. I don’t think anyone’s ever respected me like you do. Cause if I told you to pull the car over right now on this totally empty road on this gorgeous night so we can fuck in the backseat, you would say-“

“No, because I really wanna get to this diner.” Dallon interrupted.

“Even if it were slow and passionate and fueled by our deep and undying love for each other?” Brendon teased.

"They have the best grilled cheese, Brendon."

Brendon giggled and Dallon smiled out at the road, meaning no harm. “And that’s why I love you! It’s not just about sex. It’s the opposite. Because it means something to you. Whether it’s your religion or whatever, you don’t wanna use me. You like me for me. I like that you respect me like that. I like that our relationship doesn’t revolve around being physical with each other.”

“Well, yeah. Of course I like you for you. And of course I respect you.” He reached out to place a hand on Brendon’s thigh, and Brendon smiled to himself as he looked down at it, materialized it, touched it with his own. Maybe things were okay, even after everything. Maybe Brendon could remedy what he thought was broken already. “I just think that sex is like... an addition. Like a bonus when you find someone you want to be with forever. And I believe in us.”

“I believe in us too,” Brendon whispered, tucking his hand in Dallon’s with tears pooling in his eyes. Here they were at their worst. Now Brendon was wondering where they would end up, if something good could come of this. Some honesty.

“And I know you, Bren, even the parts of you that you don’t want anyone to see. And you trying to hoe yourself out for a boy, that’s not you. I want you to respect yourself too. And... and this is gonna sound worse than I mean for it to... I don’t want to have sex with you right now.”

Brendon looked at him, touching a tear from his cheek as he hadn’t meant to cry. “What? Why?”

“Because, Brendon!” He sighed in exasperation, and Brendon wiped his cheeks with both hands. “We’re in a terrible place right now. I don’t feel comfortable sleeping with you when I don’t even know where we stand. And I know things are weird right now, and I know you wanted to make up for the fight, but honestly I think the best thing for us to do right now is wait until we’re back to a good place. Or at least stable.”

Brendon sat back in his seat, a little taken aback. "Oh. Wow.”

“I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I’m sorry. It’s just.” He shook his head, shifting to tangle their fingers together. “Look. I respect you. And because I respect you, I think we should wait. Take some time to sort out our issues. Because sleeping together otherwise would feel wrong. It’s the same as me not having sex with you in the backseat of my car or in a bathroom stall at school or something.” He reached out to thumb Brendon’s cheek gently, coddling a tear. “We have to be in a good place.”

Brendon stared at him until he glanced back toward the vacant road, making sure he wasn’t going off of it. "So you're not, like, totally disgusted in me for everything that happened?” Brendon asked, wiping his cheeks again when Dallon looked at him. “This isn't just some convoluted rejection?"

"No, Bren, it's not a rejection. Honey.” He shook his head sadly and Brendon squirmed in his seat, sniffling. “I'm just saying that I think that from now on, when we sleep together it should be because we’re in love and not because you want to use it as some correction tape or something. Because I don’t feel comfortable doing it when everything isn’t right. You deserve to be treated with respect. So do I.”

“Oh.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and tightened his fingers in Dallon’s, and he was never going to let him go. He’d always been scared, hid from the world, pretended he was okay when he wasn’t. He didn’t accept people’s help and he was too damn stubborn. There were parts of Dallon that didn’t fit but there were parts of Brendon too, and Dallon thought he was beautiful, sat there with a needle and thread, stitching up his wounds. Told him he was prettier that way. “I just... I never thought of it that way. Respect. It’s special to me too, and I love that you take care of me, and I know I messed up and I’m gonna try to, y’know. Set boundaries.” Dallon nodded, and Brendon played with his seatbelt nervously, still feeling like he was walking on a minefield. "I'm sorry."

“It’s okay, just... please, for future reference, let’s just handle things better. I want sex to be about love, not lust. I don’t want it to be used as a remedy.” He pat Brendon’s thigh like a friend though Brendon heard him, understood, or at least tried to. Dallon wanted to preserve the best parts of the relationship when the other parts weren’t savable. He wanted to hold onto magic like he had when he was young. Like Brendon had too.

“Okay. Got it. I’m sorry.” He looked away, watching them pass another exit and wondering where they were even going.

“Don’t apologize. And don’t cry, baby, I’m gonna get you a grilled cheese and we’ll talk about everything. I promise.” He linked his pinky with Brendon’s and smiled at him softly. Brendon tried to smile back, because things couldn’t possibly get worse.

“Is it really that good?” Brendon asked, and Dallon laughed, nodding as he took the next exit. “Good enough to be labeled the best?”

“Well, besides yours, of course.” Dallon waved and Brendon giggled, criss-crossing his legs in his space and tugging Dallon’s hand to the space between them. He played idly with his fingers, a little long but fitting, barely any trace of the nail polish Brendon painted a week ago as it had been chipped off with anxiety. But he’d fix it soon, he thought as he smiled. Everything would go back to normal soon.

“Suck up.” He teased.

“No, I’m not sucking up.” He punched his thigh with both their hands. “You’re not the one making the food. And thank God for that.”

“Hey!” Brendon laughed, raising their hands together to bite Dallon’s, and Dallon grinned so bright that he could be tricked into thinking everything was okay. “You’re mean. I’m not that bad.”

Dallon scoffed. “Brendon, once you made a pancake so big that we had to use three spatulas to get it out of the pan. And the entire bottom of it was burnt.”

“Okay.” Brendon laughed, because he couldn’t argue about the day of the jumbo pancake. That had been a little bit of a mess. But then again so were they, and somehow it just fit. “Okay, fine. I admit, I’m not on the same culinary level as my parents are. That doesn’t matter.” He tilted his head back to smile at him. “How do you know about this place, anyway? What’s its history?”

He drummed his hand against the steering wheel as Brendon watched, intrigued. "Um, when Ryan's parents were getting divorced, his brother would drive Ryan and I to this diner so they could get out of the house when their parents were fighting. A lot went on in those few really bad months and being at their house even for a minute was... scary. His sisters stayed with his grandma all the time but his brother was the oldest and he took care of Ryan. Made me want a brother. They always picked me up because I was the only one able to comfort Ryan, at the time, and I would drop anything to be there for him. You do that for your best friend when they go through what he went through. So we all went to this diner together— it was the only one we knew that was open all night— and I always got grilled cheese. Comfort food. It was like a liminal space, almost. A break from reality when we didn’t want to be in it for a little while.”

“Oh.” Brendon smiled a little, tugging Dallon’s hand up closer to his face to pick off the rest of his nail polish. He liked to hear the relics of a life lived before they existed together, as sometimes he forgot that Dallon had lived a whole other life before they crossed paths last year. A whole seventeen years without him. That was a long time for someone to build themselves up. “Then I’m gonna get a grilled cheese too. I’ll make that final decision.”

"Oh." Dallon laughed at Brendon’s confidence. "Be my guest. But I'll have you know; I am the grilled cheese connoisseur."

“Oh yeah?” Brendon asked, and there were so many things he wanted to know. So many questions he didn’t know how to ask. How different had their lives been before each other? How different could an entire lifetime be? “Elaborate.”

Dallon watched the road fondly, and Brendon twisted his ring. “Um, when I was little, I was so ridiculously picky, my parents could only take me places that made grilled cheese. We could be going to like, a five-star restaurant, and I would still get grilled cheese. My parents always made fun of me, they said I should start a food blog on grilled cheese or something. So I would know who had the best one. So when a place has good grilled cheese, I know to go there again. I still do it, in case you haven’t noticed.” He’d noticed. “I guess it’s just nostalgia or something, I don’t know. It’s always been my comfort food. And as I’ve gotten older I’ve found that I need more comfort. I know that’s really dorky, but-“

“It’s not dorky.” Brendon interrupted, and Dallon turned to look at him. “It’s adorable.”

“You’re adorable.” Dallon retorted, but they were both smiling when he said it. Brendon could picture it, a young Dallon smiling up at his parents from across the table, sipping on Dr. Pepper and tearing apart his grilled cheese because he never ate anything without tearing it apart. Brendon learned that one day back when they were just friends, watching him, intrigued because Dallon was different. Good different.

Dallon cut through a few side roads of Vegas to get to the outskirts and Brendon watched out the window, at the lights and the buzz, at the city that never slept. At the hidden gems he vowed one day to find. But stashed underneath that treasure was that visceral desire to be alone in the dark where nothing could be looked in the face. Leave him out on the road where he could battle with his demons and hide from them, push them away. Everything was better without the light of day. The Strip had its neon and booze and rides but the heart of his Vegas was the one that lived way out in the desert, where no one could hear it.

Dallon pulled into the parking lot of a little diner with a neon sign out front, vacant inside save for an older couple sharing a milkshake. He let Brendon in first, placing a hand at the small of his back, and raised his hand in a hello to the waitresses behind the counter as Brendon chose a booth. Brendon held his hand across the table until the food came, blushing and murmurs of little apologies they didn’t mean every time they bumped feet under the table.

But they fell into normalcy, and it was almost like everything was okay, until he was playing with his food and watching Dallon pick his own apart across the table. “So...” He started, taking a bite of one of his fries. “I hate to bring this up right now, in light of recent events, but it’s been kind of... like, eating at me. Have you talked to your mom? About Jack?”

Dallon shook his head half-heartedly and ripped off a piece of his sandwich’s crust, not reacting the way Brendon expected him to. “Mm-mm. I’ve been putting it off. But I’m gonna tell her. Soon.” He put emphasis on the last word with a flick of his wrist and Brendon tried to smile. “I promise. I’m just working up the courage.”

“I think it’s brave of you.” He said softly, and Dallon glanced up at him, stopping the motion of his hand. “I do. I mean, if I were in your place then I would be terrified of that confrontation. It’s scary but I think it’s really important. And I think it’s really brave of you to have that conversation. You’re bigger than me. I couldn’t do it.”

“If it’s any consolation, I feel like I can’t do it. My stomach is in knots.” Dallon looked down at his plate and sighed. “It’s nerve-wracking. Cause I know it’s not gonna go well. And I wish I was strong enough to wait it out and not say anything but I’m not. I can’t ignore it anymore. If I want something then I go after it. I want an honest relationship with my mom, after all.” He tore off a piece of his grilled cheese and Brendon watched, nodding gently because he didn’t know what to add. “I’m just trying to come up with a way to tell her. I don’t wanna be mean or selfish or whatever but I wanna get my point across.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Brendon looked down at his food, and he hoped Dallon wouldn’t remember how against this he had been a week prior because it wasn’t his place, it was his mother’s, and whether or not it was his family he couldn’t make every decision. But Dallon just wanted to protect himself. He deserved to be protected. If no one else was going to do it for him then he had to do it himself. “Good luck. Not that you’ll need it; you’re good with words.”

“Thanks.” Dallon reached out again to capture his hand. And suddenly nothing really mattered because he knew he and Dallon meant something. It couldn’t not mean something. He was gonna fight for them. Despite everything. It was just he and Dallon, sitting under the neon lights of an all night diner, poetry of its own kind, burn out like old fame, faded like the night around them.

It wasn’t all for nothing. It couldn’t be.

Dallon paying was a compensation or another before they were back in the front seat, not talking because silence was nice this time of night. Brendon watched the lines on the road as Dallon hummed along to the music on the radio, old clichés though that was what he was into sometimes, the windows rolled down for fresh air. It was nice for a minute before it got too cold, and Brendon folded his arms over his chest, turning to look at Dallon before he rolled the windows up. It plagued his mind like a disease. Where the hell had he been?

Dallon looked at him and rolled his own window up, Brendon could never be so bold as to tell him to do it on his own, and went to twist the heat up and the radio down, listening because he knew Brendon was gonna ask. He always did. He’d never been one for confrontation until Dallon, because when someone hides so well it becomes routine to try and find them.

“Dallon, where the hell were you last weekend?” He asked with a sigh, and they both knew it was coming. Pleasantries weren’t real with them anymore. It was getting hard for the harrowing details and resenting pasts. Dallon never knew what to say and Brendon couldn’t stop.

Brendon had always wanted to know everything. It was a part of him. A once curious child grown into an even more curious boy, still asking questions no one wanted to answer. Dallon was expecting it, and Brendon was getting easy to predict. Maybe that was becoming a problem.

Dallon took a deep breath and flicked his headlights on and off aimlessly because no one else was on the road. Brendon stared at him, begging for an answer, because he was sick of trying to make one up himself. It was something he didn’t want him to hear, some secret, he knew, or wanted to know. But they promised not to keep secrets, so Brendon didn’t know what to tell him. He couldn’t keep searching for things Dallon didn’t want to admit.

“When I tried to kill myself I spent a month at the psychiatric ward in the hospital.” He said quietly, and Brendon’s eyes softened. “When I got out my mom made me promise that whenever I get bad I have to go again. She saw the burn mark on my arm when I got home. And she demanded that I tell her what’s going on. She thought I stopped self-harming last year but I didn’t.”

“You... you went to the hospital?” Brendon asked, dumbfounded.

“Yeah. Just to make sure I was stable. Cause I used to hurt myself a lot and they were worried about me. So I spent the weekend there. Talked to my old therapist and figured some shit out. It’s easier to do when you’ve got people watching you twenty-four seven. I’m not allowed to have my phone in there and honestly, I needed a few days to myself. I wasn’t deliberately ignoring you."

“Oh.” Brendon looked away, down at his hands, and he should have known, he shouldn’t have made assumptions, not everything was about him, and did he even really know Dallon? Who was he? “Wow. Uh.” He stopped, he didn’t know what to say, his head spinning. “You... you never told me.”

“It’s not something I broadcast.” Dallon shrugged, and quickly added, “I didn’t tell you because I don’t want it to be like, this big deal. Because I’m alright. She and I just have this deal, and I don’t break promises. I try not to, anyway. But I’m okay. I just need some time.”

Brendon fidgeted uncomfortably in the passenger seat. His boyfriend in some facility, being watched and worried about? Maybe Brendon wasn’t the only problem. Maybe he was making matters worse. "And what about the cigarettes? What did she have to say about that?"

He shrugged. “She’s not really mad. Just worried. It’s just a bad habit. It’s not gonna kill me. And she doesn’t support me doing it but she says as long as I’m not burning myself then I can make my own decisions. She doesn’t get that I only smoke to...” He trailed off, realizing that maybe Brendon couldn’t stand to hear that.

Brendon looked away, out the window at nothing in the dark. “Your mom is so chill. Mine would have my ass if I even looked at a cigarette.”

Dallon smiled a little to himself, flicking his headlights again. “And you’re not gonna say anything about the hospital?” He asked, because maybe he knew Brendon too well. Maybe that wasn’t always a good thing.

Brendon saw him watching out of the corner of his eye and closed his own, hands trembling. He couldn’t picture it. He suddenly didn’t want to. His life before him. He’d been there before. He’d been suicidal before. The life he’d lived before Brendon... some of it was scary. Too scary for Brendon to let himself think about.

He didn’t want to argue. He was sick of arguing. But some things had to be said. Some things belonged out there.

Tears in his eyes, he whispered, “I am so worried about you.”

Dallon instinctively reached over to take his shaking hand, an urgency in it that said he was just as worried about Brendon. And maybe they weren’t equal, maybe they never had been, but he could see now their dichotomy. Their distinctions. Dallon knew his coping mechanisms. Brendon didn’t. “I’m fine, Brendon, I promise. I’m fine.” He insisted, but tears slipped down Brendon’s cheeks.

“You burned yourself in front of me, Dallon.” He cried, a sickening burn in his chest. He didn’t want to pretend that they were okay. Hold hands over the table and joke around because that wasn’t them anymore. There was something wrong. Something Dallon couldn’t say and something maybe Brendon couldn’t bear to hear. “You scared me so much. I thought—“ He shook his head, and he didn’t even know what he thought. “Fuck. I hate thinking that you feel like you need to do that to yourself and I hate the way this stupid fucking world has treated you. I hate that you go through all of this alone. But I hate that I have to be here for it too and can’t help, because I don’t know how to help, or if I can, and I— I hate that you don’t trust me enough to be able to tell me that you’re in the hospital. And we haven’t been close at all lately, and everyone has been bullying me, and I can’t fucking take all of this, Dallon, I can’t-“

“Fuck.” Dallon pulled over, and Brendon looked up when Dallon unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over the middle console to pull him into a hug, trying to convince him that things weren’t as bad as he thought. But it was bad. “Bren, take a breath. C’mon.”

“I’m so scared.” Brendon cried into his shoulder.

“Baby, I’m fine. I’m fine.” He cradled his head, stroking his hair gently. “The hospital is nothing. I’ve been through it before. It’s just a precaution. Everything is okay. I’m okay. I’m not gonna attempt again and I’m not gonna go back there. I’m here with you.”

“Are you sure?” He pulled away, cheeks stained with tears, and Dallon nodded, though it was never a promise he could make because he didn’t know. But Brendon sniffled, and he needed to hear it. That Dallon wasn’t going anywhere. “You’re not breaking up with me?”

“I’m not breaking up with you,” Dallon promised, wiping tears from his face. “I swear, Brendon, I’m here for you. You’re mine. I’m yours. We made that promise to each other and I’m not breaking it. I know I haven’t been good but this has nothing to do with you. I’m just having an off month. Hey.” He took his face in his hands. “It’s not you, Brendon. I swear. Okay?”

“Okay.” Brendon sniffled, but wouldn’t take his hands off of him, pulling him close because he couldn’t help but feel like he was about to lose him.

“And about people bullying you, Bren-“

Brendon shook his head, and he couldn’t believe he was making it all about him again. “Forget I said that.”

“No. I’m serious. I know the past two months have fucking sucked, but you have to know that what people say about you doesn’t matter. You’re smart and kind, Brendon, and you’re an amazing person.” Dallon cupped his cheek in his hand and swiped his thumb carefully under his eye. “You’re good. And I hate that not everyone sees that. But you should.” He leaned in to press their lips together, shaking his head again in disbelief. “I want you happy. I need you happy.”

Tears slid down Brendon’s cheeks, shivering in the passenger seat. “I’m so scared.” He said again, because it was all he could think to say.

"No, I know. Me too, sweetheart. But you’re okay. And look. You don't have to worry about me, baby. Please don't. I'm alright. Look at me." He gestured to himself, earning Brendon's teary-eyed gaze. "I'm alright. I’m here. And all I wanted to do tonight was get some grilled cheese at my second favorite diner and talk. Can you sleep over? Can you stay with me?”

"Yeah." Brendon cupped the sides of his neck to feel him there, to make sure he wasn't dreaming up his Dallon, and extended his arms to pull him into a hug. “Yeah. I need to be with you right now.” He whispered, sniffling against his shoulder. And he did. Because he knew now what was wrong, their communication, their honesty, and every piece of Brendon needed this boy and he wasn’t going to ruin it. He pulled away to look him in the eye, trying hard to read him, and pressed their lips together.

Dallon sighed, shaking his head, tears in his eyes as he pulled away to cup Brendon’s chin in the palm of his hand, forcing his gaze on his own. “I’m crazy about you, Brendon Urie, and that isn’t gonna change because of one fight.”

Brendon didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say anything, just nodded because he believed him, he had to believe him, and that look in his eye was honest. Too honest. He needed him too. He wanted to protect him just as badly as he needed to be protected.

“Okay?” Brendon nodded, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “Okay. Let’s get going, baby.”

He left a hand in Brendon’s when he pulled out into the road again, and Brendon could feel it: how tangible it really was. Their feelings for each other. He looked up at Dallon's face in the dark, the calmness in his eyes and the moonlight on his cheeks, and in that instance he could understand everything. Why he hadn't understood before, and why Dallon had his walls up. Because it was scary. Falling in love with someone and letting them know everything about you.

He knew now why people fought their wars. Why he hadn't been able to comprehend it until now. He let go of his fears and his doubts and his ghosts and his skeletons. It was only he and Dallon now, with their convoluted love story and everything to prove it.

"Hey, Dallon?"

Dallon glanced his way but tried not to take his eyes off the road. "Yeah?"

"They do have the best grilled cheese."

Dallon laughed, his eyes sparkling in the light of the moon, and Brendon did too, feeling rejuvenated because he was sick of feeling so bad all the time. "I know! I told you!" He shoved Brendon’s knee and tangled their fingers together when Brendon shoved back. “Are you sure you wanna stay over?”

“Of course. I miss you.” Brendon played with his fingers in his lap as he watched his headlights flash on highway signs.

“I miss you too.” He extended his fingers in between Brendon’s before he tightened them, and Brendon smiled again, his heart drumming against his chest.

He leaned in to rest his head on Dallon’s shoulder, a silent forgiveness, as he watched out the window in front of them, at a black desert sky and stars that went on for miles. It felt so infinite, this world, one he wanted to explore but didn’t know how. Boulder City was home. He didn’t need to leave.

He looked up at Dallon and smiled. He’d spent years wishing on these stars for this only to realize that maybe they’d always needed something extraterrestrial to watch over them. Or maybe they needed divine intervention, or just plain hope.

He swore that one day, he was gonna marry this boy. Because when something made you feel this safe, you didn’t let it go.

“Hey, did you hear about that party that that girl is throwing?” Brendon asked gently for the sake of conversation, and Dallon looked at him. “The one on Halloween for all the seniors. The one someone has every year.”

“Diner boy, with the hot gossip.” Dallon laughed, and Brendon squeezed his arm, smiling warmly down at their hands.

“I get around.” He said, though his only source was Tyler because he always tried to stay on top of everything. “You wanna go?”

Dallon looked down at him again in shock, because then again maybe it was shocking. Brendon was never one to care about parties but he did care about fitting in. He’d heard about the senior Halloween party for four years, every year someone hosted, and he’d never been to a party but after all, senior year was one of self-discovery. He wanted to forget about boxes and compartmentalism and his mind. He wanted to do something fun. “You wanna?”

“I think it could be fun.” He figured, not saying that he wanted to go to let loose after feeling like his life was falling apart. “I mean, aside from the one my siblings threw I’ve never been to a party, and I don’t think sitting on the stairs playing virtual mini golf the whole time counts. And we get to dress up, and Ty and Josh are going, so we have friends, and honestly, I think we could use a night. I’m sick of fighting and being stressed and whatever all the time. I wanna have fun. I want you there.”

Dallon shrugged, tilting his head to nudge the top of Brendon’s with his cheek. “If you insist, I’ll take you. But you’re buying me food after cause you owe me.”

“Yes, sir.” Brendon agreed, squeezing his arm and hoping his sincerity got across. “I promise it’s gonna be fun. And if it’s not, I owe you double. Deal?”

“You drive a hard bargain, Urie,” Dallon said, but shook his hand and smiled when Brendon laughed, letting his eyes fall shut.

Pushing one a.m., Dallon led Brendon into his room quietly because his mom was sleeping, having left the overhead lights on in the kitchen when he came in. He shushed him as he went to click on his lamp, dimming the room, and Brendon went to plug his phone in to text his mom that he’d ended up at Dallon’s again.

“You want pajama pants?” Dallon asked in a whisper, shifting through his drawer. Brendon nodded so he found Brendon’s favorite pair, dark blue ones covered in little white stars, they reminded him of the star map hanging up above his desk, and he went to tug off his jeans while Dallon changed his own.

Brendon crawled into his bed and under the covers, still anxious though he didn’t know why, and reached out for Dallon when he sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m glad we talked.” He said, and Dallon went to curl up beside him.

“Me too. I think it’s important that we do.” He leaned in to rest his forehead against Brendon’s. Breath warm against his lips, he added, “You are my whole heart, Brendon Urie. I can’t do this without you.”

“I love you.” Brendon nuzzled his face in his shoulder and looped an arm around his waist. “And I can’t do this without you either.”

“Then let’s not.” Dallon proposed, burying his nose in Brendon’s hair, and it sounded like a promise.

* * *

His anxiety was gnawing at the pit of his stomach Sunday evening though he didn’t really know why. It was just routine these days, feeling scared, feeling like he always had. He was counting down days again, living in that state of mind where he was waiting for the next day, and the next, and the next when not a lot was going on.

Halloween was two weeks away, which meant that party was two weeks away, a night for remedy if he could help it. He chewed on his thumbnail aimlessly, and he didn’t know what he was gonna dress up as, if he wanted to convince Dallon to do a couple’s costume, if he should go all out or not. But he loved dressing up, it was his favorite thing about Vegas, pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Trying on different versions of yourself and choosing which one fit best, despite your fear that you won’t fit in because sometimes not fitting in meant the opposite.

It was on a Sunday, and he’d never been to a party but it seemed silly to have it then, on Halloween itself because that was what they always did. People in this town always skipped the day after Halloween anyway, a Boulder City tradition, and Brendon never cared much for it because he always got home relatively early after trick or treating and ate candy before bed, but this year he had a plan. He was going to try to fit in.

He was trying to get a history paper done when Kyla barged into his room, followed by his brothers but no invitation. He jumped, not expecting them, and wondered if maybe he should invest in a lock as Kyla looked him over, like something about him was different. “You had sex with Dallon?” She asked, and his eyes widened because no one else was supposed to know that.

“Get out of my room!”

“Not until you tell us.” Mason intervened, moving further into his room.

Brendon grimaced, slamming his laptop shut, there was a reason he didn’t tell people things. There was a reason he hid from them. “Where did you hear that?” He asked, only his parents and Kara knew, Tyler, Josh, Ryan, maybe too many people but he knew he could trust them all, or at least he thought he could.

“It’s not important.”

“It’s important to me.” He argued.

Matt sighed, knew Brendon got defensive about these things, and reached out to ruffle his hair despite him jerking away immediately, not in the mood to talk about this. “Word gets around. I overheard Kara tell mama that she heard she gave you the talk after she found out you and Dallon were sleeping together.”

Something twisted in his stomach, and of course they would all go behind his back and discuss his personal business as if it wasn’t the most intimate thing to ever have happened to him. “Slept together. We only did it once.” He corrected quietly, and Kyla went to wrap him in a hug though he really, really didn’t want to be here right now. “Can you not, like, make a big deal of it? This is weird. You don’t need to ambush me like this. I didn’t tell anyone cause I didn’t want it to be a thing.”

“Brendon.” She said in disbelief, like she couldn’t imagine that the virgin Brendon wasn’t so virginal anymore. He couldn’t quite believe it himself sometimes. “You lost your virginity. You’re our baby brother. We’re your family. You’re like, obligated to tell us these things.”

“No I’m not. I’m obligated to have my own privacy. And I didn’t think you were like, signed up to Brendon’s Virginity Monthly.” He said awkwardly, bristling away from her in embarrassment. There were a lot of things he didn’t tell them. There were a lot of reasons why. “I don’t like telling people about my sex life. It’s not even a sex life. It happened once.”

“Come on, little brother.” Mason cooed, and Brendon looked away, down at his knee where there was a little hole in his pajama pants. “We’re not making fun of you. We’re just proud of you for, y’know. Not being the way you used to be.”

“Well, thanks.” He deadpanned, and as Matt sat down on the other side of him he supposed they weren’t leaving anytime soon.

“C’mon, Bren.” He pat his back, Brendon hated attention, and he covered his face with his hands because they were all looking at him. “We’re supposed to tell each other stuff. It’s in our genes. And besides, you told Kara.”

“Well, Kara asked.” He muttered.

“We’re asking!” Matt reasoned, and Brendon made a noise of disdain, wishing he’d never told anybody in the first place. It was easier when nobody knew anything about him. When he was better at hiding. He didn’t know how to talk about this. “Come on, Brendon. Talk to us. How’d it happen? When did it happen?"

“I’m not telling you that.” He shot him a weird look. “And it was in July.” He looked between the three of them, all wanting more information, and then away from them because he didn’t know what to tell them. “That’s it.”

“You gotta tell us more than that.” Kyla punched his arm and he glared at her in return. “Come on. Were you okay? Were you scared? Did you top or bottom?”

“That is so none of your business!” He retorted, because it wasn’t, and his siblings looked between each other knowingly before he added a quiet, “Which one’s which?”

They looked at him and then at each other again, having assumed Brendon knew more than he did though the internet scared him and so did Tyler, sometimes, and he let Dallon make all the decisions for them. It was rare, their being together. Brendon couldn’t taint it with words. Mason sighed, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe the kid didn’t know what it meant, and said bluntly, “Bottom is the one that takes it up the ass, Bren.”

Kyla smacked his arm and Brendon looked away, burning red because it sounded so... sinful. So wrong. “It’s weird that you know that.” He said under his breath, though not surprised because as the second oldest of five he had to have known a thing or two. Embarrassed, he added a hushed, “And yeah, that one.”

“Oh my god, Bren, you take it up the ass,” Matt said, calculating it like it were unbelievable, and Brendon hid in his hands, wishing he could get up and run. “There’s nothing wrong with that, obviously, it’s just-“

“Okay, please, I appreciate that you guys care and have my wellbeing in mind and that’s great and all, but can you please leave me alone? It’s seriously not a big deal. I’m in a relationship, I love him, it happens. I was okay, I wasn’t scared, I wanted to have sex with my boyfriend so I made that decision and I’m glad that I did. And I didn’t talk about it because I wanted to keep it to myself because it’s special to me. I can tell you about it later but right now I really just wanna be alone. I’m uncomfortable. Please.”

“Okay, okay.” Matt put his hands up in surrender and stood up, heading toward the door with Mason at his side. “I can respect that. But congrats, little brother.” He winked, and Brendon forced a smile as the two of them disappeared.

“We’re talking about this later,” Kyla said and Brendon nodded, he wouldn’t mind without an ambush, and she pat his head like a puppy before she got up to follow her brothers out of the room. “I’m proud of you, Brenny.” She added before she closed the door, and Brendon stared after her for a minute, speechless.

Across town, Dallon stared down at the blank page and almost snapped his pencil in half before he realized how hard he was gripping it. He should have listened to Brendon. He should have made himself okay with it. He just wasn’t, and that was the problem. He’d spent years hiding from telling the truth and he promised he wouldn’t anymore.

“Dallon!” She called from somewhere in the apartment, and he closed his notebook. Statistics could wait. He hadn’t realized his hands were shaking when he stood up unsteadily, steps heavy as he reluctantly traced her voice to the kitchen.

It wasn’t that he didn’t support her. He just didn’t support her dating somebody like Jack. He couldn’t keep lying to her. It wasn’t in his nature.

He stepped timidly into the kitchen, socked feet gentle on the tiled floor, and watched his mother set out plates for dinner for the two of them. That was the way it should be. Just the two of them. Not trying to replace their third with someone who didn’t belong.

“Hi, babe. There you are. I got home an hour ago and you haven’t left your room. What are you doing in there?” She asked, smiling at him though he couldn't figure out how to smile back.

“Homework.” He said simply, shifting his weight uncomfortably. It was more like staring at his homework, tapping his pencil aimlessly as he wondered what the point was, until he realized he couldn’t keep putting it off. He didn’t know exactly how to say it, why he was even going to, but he swore one of these days he would learn to be a better son.

“Good.” She hummed, turning toward the stove again. “So how was your night last night? How is Brendon? You guys talk things out?”

“It was fine. And yeah, I talked to him. About everything. And he understood. More than he should have. He’s a sweet boy.” He looked down at his feet guiltily. “I drove him home this morning. I’m glad he’s him. Kind.”

“He is. He’s good for you. He’s got a good heart.” She agreed, not bothering to look back at him as she pulled lasagna out of the oven.

“Yeah, he does.” He agreed, and he did. Brendon was a good, good person. Dallon wondered sometimes why he bothered with someone like him. He watched her with teary eyes and she nodded, always making small talk, and Dallon added a nervous, shaky, “I have something to tell you.”

She turned to look at him, set the pan down on the counter, and dropped her oven mitts beside it as she quirked a brow at him, catching his tone perfectly. “Okay.” She said warily. He had spent days trying to figure out how to say it, and he couldn’t, and he probably never would. He just had to tell the truth and pray it sounded better than it tasted.

“I, um. I don’t like Jack.” He admitted, and she opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. “I’m sorry. I tried. I know I have no place telling you that I don’t like him but I don’t. And I know I shouldn’t tell you this. I just... I wanted to like him and I wanted to support you but you told me that if I’m ever uncomfortable with the guy you’re seeing then you want me to tell you so I am. And I don’t like that you’re dating him. I don’t want you to date him.”

Moving slow, she leaned over the island, sighing like she understood but how could she? “Is this about your father?” She asked, and he wondered if it was something she could feel, or something she could see, or if he was just that bad at hiding.

Dallon couldn’t lie. It was all consuming. Bone crushing. Heartbreaking. He wanted to lie. He was good at lying. He just couldn’t. “Yes.” He choked out, and he wished he was okay with it. He really did.

She was quiet for a minute, watching tears build in her son’s eyes, calculating as the pieces came together. Leaving the house so often she barely saw him. Avoiding her gaze and his, canceling dinner plans to eat out with his friends instead. She should have realized. He should have told her sooner. They were both at fault. Neither of them paid enough attention sometimes.

“Dallon.” She sighed, and Dallon hated that sigh, the apology sigh, the pity sigh, and she stood up straight when he tried to bite back tears. “I value your opinion. And your feelings. And I knew you’d be upset with my getting involved with another man. It’s okay, and it’s reasonable. But this isn’t Jack and you know that. This is you being uncomfortable because whoever I’m with isn’t your father.”

She wasn’t wrong, and Dallon knew that, hated it, resented it because what was he supposed to say? His father was his father. He was irreplaceable. Dallon was hurt. No number of lies would cover that up. “It’s not just that.” He said, desperate.

“What it is then?”

Tears slid down Dallon’s cheeks and he took in a shuddering breath, wiping them quickly so she wouldn’t react though her eyes softened nonetheless. He was always trying to protect her. He just wished he got the same luxury sometimes. “I don’t wanna share you.”

“Dals.” She sighed again, and crossed the room to pull him into a hug. He leaned his head on her shoulder like a child, squeezing his eyes shut, because this was his family. This was his family and no one could have it. “You’re always gonna be my baby. No matter who comes and goes. You’re my number one, okay? You’re my main priority.” She pulled away, wiping his tears with her thumbs gently. “But this is my relationship and I can’t leave him because you asked me to. I won’t make you spend time with him, and I won’t have him over when you don’t want me to, but I’m in love with him, Dallon, and I can’t-“

“How could you do that?” He asked, choking on his tears. She stopped to stare at him, reaching out to touch his shoulder, but he backed away like she were on fire. He was right the whole time. “No, how could you fall in love with somebody after a marriage?”

The look in her eye said she thought this would hurt her more than it would hurt him but this was a scrape to her and a knife wound to him. Now she was rubbing salt in it. “Because it’s not impossible!” She argued, but he knew it was. It had to be. “You and your father will always be the most important men in my life, but I need to move on, Dallon. I can’t spend the rest of my life alone. You’ll be in college soon, and you won’t be around, and-“

“Then I’ll stay here!” He cried, wiping his cheeks frantically. “I’m staying in Nevada for school anyway, and I can live at home. I don’t wanna leave.”

She smiled sympathetically as he bit back a sob, and she looked like she was talking to a kindergartener who wasn’t getting his way. “You can’t do that, baby.” She said gently, and he shook his head. This wasn’t fair. She couldn’t do this to him. She couldn’t... shut him down like this.

Tears dripped down his cheeks but he didn’t bother to wipe them away. If they made her worry, then so be it. Let her worry. She did the same to him. If he didn’t matter to her then maybe he didn’t have a reason to keep trying to make it matter. “You told me to tell you when I’m not comfortable with the guy you’re with. Why would you tell me that if you weren’t gonna listen to me?!”

“Because we need to be able to talk to each other, Dallon, and I need to know how you’re feeling. I need to know how to make this more comfortable for you.” She insisted, but he wasn’t comfortable, he was never going to be comfortable. He didn’t know why she was trying. “If you want me to be comfortable you’ll break up with him.” He said, and it was irrational, unethical, but it was what he wanted.

“That’s not how this works, Dallon.” She told him, shaking her head gently because when it all came down to it, she made the decisions. Dallon didn’t get that luxury yet. “You don’t get to decide.”

But Dallon sniffled and took a few steps back, suddenly wary, like he were face to face with a wild coyote out in the desert with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. He had both, but he felt glued to the floor anyway. “This isn’t fair.” He whispered.

She watched his eyes apologetically, and he didn’t want to hear it. The truth. He should have just kept hiding. “I’m sorry, Dallon, but there’s no negotiation on this one.”

He didn’t bother to wipe the tears from his cheeks as he backed away from her, and suddenly he couldn’t see his mother but a traitor instead. She swore she’d never fall out of love with him. She swore she’d never leave him too. He turned to bolt out of the kitchen, grabbing his sneakers and keys and pulling open the door as she followed, frantic.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.” He snapped, and didn’t even bother turning to glare at her before he left.

“Dallon.” She called, following him into the hallway, and with his shoes in his hand he bolted down the stairs at the end of the hallway. “Dallon James Weekes!” She yelled. And he didn’t know where he was going, or if he was ever going to come back, because maybe it was easier to leave this behind. If she could forget her old life then so could he.

He didn’t want to be here. It didn’t feel like home anymore.

Brendon was in bed scrolling mindlessly on his phone when Kyla knocked on the door, poking her head in before he could tell her to come in. She smiled at him, this big sister smile, this supportive smile, and he smiled back because he knew what this was, anyway. He nodded and sat up in bed so she went to sit beside him, reaching out to grab at his knee.

“Brendon.” She cooed, and he giggled, in a much better mood than he had been a few hours earlier. “Look. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But when you were six and a girl in your class had a crush on you, you had me be your bodyguard at school so she wouldn’t go after you cause you didn’t know how to let her down gently. I like to think that since then, you trust me enough to tell me about your consensual endeavors.”

He laughed, nodding because he remembered. He did trust her. He just never knew how to bring it up. “I know. And I wanted to tell you, I just... didn’t know what to say. How to bring it up. I mean, it was like... unreal. And I felt like I shouldn’t tell people because it was mine. And so is he.”

She nodded gently, setting a hand on his shoulder and smiling warmly like she could see it. “You’re the same little boy who used to run from girls on the playground.” She said sentimentally, and he nodded too, letting her pull him into a hug because he knew. He’d had his walls up for a long time. It was about time he let people in. “And now you’re all grown up, Brenny. My baby brother.”

“Yeah.” He agreed, burying his face in her shoulder. He never saw himself as an adult, not when he was working, or when he was at school, or when he was having sex with his serious boyfriend or going away with him or learning that the world was so much more different when you paid attention and didn’t hide. But he guessed there were parts of him that were different, and parts of him that were the same. He just had to find which was which. “It was so weird, Kyla. Is it always that weird?”

She laughed, pulling away and pushing hair out of his eyes. “You’ll get used to it.” She promised, and he hoped he would.

“Good. It was just so... I don’t know. I don’t even have words to explain it. It was awkward, and dumb, and fun, and it hurt so fucking bad and then it didn’t, and then it did again. But it was worth it. It was fun. And I had no idea what I was doing but he didn’t either, and it wasn’t bad at all, or uncomfortable, it was just... us. I felt closer to him. Like I was worried for nothing.”

“I don’t think you were worried for nothing. I just think you overcame that worry. You grew up a little bit.” She squeezed his shoulder and he giggled, flustered. Kyla was the one that knew everything. Got into everyone’s business. He tried to stay out of it for the most part, though, because some things were better left keeping him in the dark. “So, you said it was only once?”

“Yeah.” He looked down, shrugging awkwardly because he was still trying to figure out how to talk about sex. “I don’t know, is it cheesy to say that we wanted to keep it magic? Cause that’s what Dallon said after we did it and he’s right, y’know? I wanna be with him for a long time. We have time to do that stuff. We wanna get to know each other better first.” He explained, and covered his face with his hands because he sounded so cliché. “God, that’s so dorky when I say it out loud.”

“No, not dorky. Well, yeah, dorky.” She shrugged and he laughed, glad she wasn’t censoring anything. “But it’s okay. It’s sweet. You guys are good together, you know? I’ve never seen you like this. Trusting someone.” She punched his arm and he half smiled, because she was right. He never trusted anyone. It was hard to, in a place like this. It was a miracle he found Dallon when he did.

“Yeah.” He agreed, and it was so hard to believe sometimes. “Yeah, I’m really lucky.”

“Brendon!” His mother called suddenly from the bottom of the stairs, and he looked up at his sister with an eyebrow raised. “Dallon’s mother is on the phone, it’s urgent.”

Brendon shot up and, with Kyla following close behind, darted down the hall and the stairs, almost slipping in his socks but grabbing the landline from his mother's grip, not missing the worried look in her eye because he had no idea. What the hell happened to him? Urgent? What was that supposed to mean? “Hello?”

“Hi, Brendon, honey, have you seen Dallon today? Or talked to him?” She asked, sounding frantic on the other line.

His pulse picked up and he started pacing the living room, hands shaking uncontrollably. “No, uh. Not since I left your house this morning. He told me after he dropped me off he was gonna go back home and do homework. Why? What’s going on? Is he okay? He’s not in trouble, is he?” He asked, nibbling on his thumb nail anxiously before he pulled out his phone to check his messages, one from Ryan and a few from Tyler but none from his boyfriend.

“He ran away, Brendon.” She sighed, and he almost dropped the phone but went to sit down on the arm of the couch because he felt faint, all of a sudden. What the hell did she mean he ran away? Dallon wouldn’t run away. “We were talking and he got upset and he ran out. This isn’t unlike him, but it’s been hours and I haven’t heard from him. His friends haven’t either. And he’s not at the cemetery or anywhere else he likes to hang out, so I was wondering if maybe he was with you. Your mother said she checked the diner for me and he wasn’t there.”

“Yeah, no, he’s not with me. I have no messages from him either. I can try to call him a few times, and I’ll let you know if he answers. I guess, um. That’s all I can do. I’ll try to find out more.” He said, and suddenly his vision was blurring and his head ached and he didn’t know what to do. He thought he knew him better. He thought he was done doing this to him. He thought he was more than just another person to ignore when he was off not caring about anybody but himself.

“Thank you, Brendon. I’ll keep you updated.” She promised, and they thanked each other before he hung up and went to find Dallon’s name in his phone. Tears slipped down his cheeks as the phone rang once and disconnected, playing out Dallon’s voicemail and sending him straight to the beep. Brendon kept trying, once, twice, five times, but Dallon’s phone wasn’t on. If it was, then he didn’t want to talk to Brendon. He thought they were okay. He swore they were okay.

Dallon’s mother said it wasn’t unlike him. So maybe he wasn’t who Brendon thought he was.

He left a frantic message on his tenth time calling and whipped his phone at the wall, breaking down in a sob because this wasn’t fair. Dallon couldn’t keep leaving. Tears slid down his face and he pushed his hands through his hair, shaking erratically because he couldn’t control them. When he said he wanted to learn more about Dallon this wasn’t what he meant. He didn’t want a glimpse of him from years ago. He wanted him. The Dallon he fell in love with.

It wasn’t until half past midnight when Dallon didn’t call back that Brendon realized he had fallen in love with the parts of Dallon he hadn’t seen yet, too.

Dallon was crossing boundaries now. Making choices for them. Deciding to play hide and seek again without bothering to invite Brendon to join in the game.

Brendon stared at the ceiling, eyes red and body shivering. Maybe he didn’t even know who Dallon Weekes was.


	30. Chapter 29: Lost in Translation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I just love a good fight

On Monday evening Brendon was wiping down the counter aimlessly, working the later shift, when the bell above the door rang in a greeting. They were near closing and customers were starting to trickle in and out, leaving Matt to gather their dirty dishes and bring them to the kitchen to clean, but when Brendon glanced up it wasn’t a customer leaving but Ryan entering, forcing a smile though Brendon couldn’t find it in him to return it.

“Hey, Bren. God. You look really out of it.” He took a seat at the stool in front of Brendon and the boy inhaled unsteadily, leaving the rag and going to push his leftover sugar packets together like he did when the day got overwhelming. “Are you doing alright?”

“Hi. Yeah, I’m, uh. I’m not very here today. I didn’t sleep last night, and I’m so preoccupied with worrying that I forget to turn off my brain sometimes. It’s a thing. Any good news?” He pushed a pink packet toward the other pink packets and Ryan made a face, which was a no, and Brendon wasn’t expecting anything anyway. Dallon disappeared. There wasn’t anything he could do except wait for him to come back, or hope he even would.

He hadn’t just run away. Something drove him away. Brendon was unsure whether it was him or an outside force.

“No. I wasn’t expecting to hear from him. He’s fucking stubborn.” He rested his chin in his hand. “I assume the same goes on your end. If he was gonna contact anybody it would be you. You haven’t heard from him at all?”

Brendon shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it so hard he was about to pull it out. “No. Not at all. And I’ve gone all crazy boyfriend and have been stalking his social media and he hasn’t been online. He hasn’t even gone on fucking Tumblr, Ryan, I checked his Tumblr. I’m fucking nuts.”

“Justifiably so.” Ryan shrugged, reaching out to poke at a sugar packet aimlessly.

“I guess. D’you want anything? Fries? A drink?” Ryan shook his head, and Brendon sighed. “I made my brother take a detour to the cemetery when he picked me up from school and Dallon wasn’t there. That’s the only place I could think of him hiding. I’m guessing he just doesn’t wanna be found. If he’s even still in BC, he’s doing a damn good job at staying lost.”

“He’s not still in BC,” Ryan said, and Brendon looked up at him skeptically. “He can’t be. He doesn’t really talk to anybody here except us and Tyler and Josh. I called his roommate from the hospital and he’s not with him, and Dallon’s mom called his grandma and he didn’t go to Salt Lake. At least not yet. And she has this tracking app on his phone but it only works when it’s on and it’s not. He turned it off.” He covered his face with his hand in thought, but Brendon really had no idea either. Dallon was good at tricking people. It was what he’d done best for years. “I’m really worried about him. This isn’t totally unlike him but I thought he was getting better. I guess he just...” He sighed, cutting himself off because some things were probably better left unsaid, but Brendon felt uneasy nonetheless. “Let me know if he’s in touch, okay?”

“I will,” Brendon promised, but he doubted Dallon would want to hear from him anyway. He didn’t want anybody to know where he had gone. He didn’t want Brendon to know where he had gone. Gnawing on his bottom lip, he added, “I’m worried about him too. Like, really worried. And I just... do you think he could be in danger?” He asked, though it was more like begging, and Ryan watched him as he tried to stop his hands from shaking. “I mean, who the hell knows where he could have gone? I’m realizing now that I know fucking nothing, Ryan. He could be hurt or with some stranger or like, halfway to Mexico.”

“No, he doesn’t have a passport.” Ryan scratched aimlessly at his cheek, and Brendon started wringing his hands anxiously. “He’s just... he’s acting the same way he did when his dad died. Being destructive and avoiding his feelings and this was what he was doing before he tried to kill himself. He was shutting everyone out. And I’m not saying he’s gonna do it again, he swore to all of us that he wouldn’t, and I know he knows better now. He’s trying to know better now. But still... I don’t know what to think. I don’t know.”

“Oh, god.” Brendon put his head in his hands, trembling. It was worse than he thought. He really didn’t know anything. He didn’t know the people Dallon knew or where he went to hide or why he felt like he had to. This couldn’t end before he got the chance to know him.

This had to be all his fault. Because Dallon had been in a bad place before, walked through a thunderstorm and ran through red lights, but years later he was still burning his own skin and trying to get away. This couldn’t be a coincidence. This had to be Brendon.

“I talked to everyone today,” Ryan added, and Brendon looked up, blinking back tears and not bothering to try and rub at his eyes. “Tomorrow Josh wants us to drive around, it might be a moot point but we might see his car around somewhere. I know his license plate. You and Tyler can come if you want. I can text him later. We just don’t wanna sit around. We’ve tried that before and it’s not that easy on us.”

“Yeah, no, I’m not working. I’m gonna come with.” Brendon assured him, and he just wanted to feel useful.

“Yeah, of course. And Leann is working tomorrow but on Wednesday she wants us to go to the apartment after school to talk to her. I can take you.”

“Yeah.” Brendon nodded too much, trying to make sense of it but he couldn’t. Dallon had been doing well for months. He had been fine until Brendon fucked that all up. Broke his heart and made him question them and himself, too, and ruined everything because Brendon always did. He just prayed Dallon would even want to talk to him again. “I’m scared that this is my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, Brendon,” Ryan promised, but Brendon wasn’t so sure. “Seriously. Dallon’s in charge of his own decisions. He just makes bad ones sometimes. Most of the time.” He amended, and tears were welling up in Brendon’s eyes. “Dallon’s not a person you want to have to worry about. But ultimately, Bren, he’s gonna come back and deal with what he did and it’s gonna be fine. So don’t freak out. He’s just dealing in his own, detrimental little way.” Brendon wouldn’t call running away little, but he nodded hopefully when Ryan got up. “I’m gonna get going. I just wanted to check in. But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you. And yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Brendon nodded sincerely, and returned to sorting sugar, pushing a yellow toward another yellow as Ryan headed toward the door.

“Brendon.” He called when he was halfway outside, and Brendon looked up, gaze hopeful, as the cool night air moved in and enveloped him suddenly. Disappearing as fast as it had come. “I mean it. You look way too out of it. Just because Dallon is freaking out that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take care of yourself. Get some rest.”

“You too,” Brendon said, a promise more or less, and Ryan pushed back against the door before he turned. He was right, this wasn’t new, Dallon tended to implode when things got bad. He was okay, wherever he was. He would be okay.

Brendon rested his head down on the counter, and he really did need a break.

“Anything?” Brendon’s mom asked that night as he passed through, checking Dallon’s accounts again despite it having only been five minutes since he last did.

“No. I’m gonna go upstairs for the night.” He sighed, at least letting her kiss the top of his head before he escaped up the stairs. She watched him go, worried within reason, and Brendon swore he’d never let a boy do this to him but he was in tears by the time he reached his door anyway.

He scrolled through Dallon’s social media again before he decided that it was probably ineffective, Dallon wasn’t always online anyway, and when he called him again it went straight to voicemail. What Ryan said echoed in his ears, this isn’t unlike him, so who the hell was Dallon? Because Brendon never would have imagined this. This wasn’t him.

"I know last weekend was stupid,” Brendon rambled as Tyler sat silent on the other line, listening because Dallon wasn’t there to. “Everyone told me that it was dumb to worry, and it was dumb to be mad, and that I just needed to give him some space. And I thought that it was better, you know? I thought that after we talked it out, after we apologized to each other, I thought it was water under the bridge. And what fucking sucks is that I'm not in his head, you know? I don't know what's going on. And I don't know whether or not I should be scared or upset or disappointed or angry."

"Okay, Brenny bear, wait. You're talking a million miles a minute. Take a breath." Tyler shushed him, and oh, Brendon had forgotten how to breathe again. "Elaborate for me. This is a lot. What are you thinking?"

"I don't know, Ty, I don't know what I'm thinking. I'm just— I know I shouldn't be mad because I don't know every side to the story, and I was horrible to him and I can't be mad at him after I fucked him over too, but... that's just it. I feel like he's fucking me over so fucking bad right now. He's never hurt me like this before. I don't know how to be hurt by him. And I didn’t think that he could do this to me. I didn’t think he had the heart. But what if he doesn’t care about me? Cause if he cared about me he wouldn’t be shutting me out when he knows how scared I get.”

"I guess it's not that simple, though.” Tyler figured, and Brendon worried his bottom lip in his teeth. “You said it yourself, Bren, you're not in his head. So you can't really accuse him of fucking you over when you don't even know his intentions. This may have nothing to do with you. In fact, it probably doesn't have anything to do with you. You were just caught in the crossfire, is all. Something happened and he snapped and he's probably just doing what he thinks is best for him. You know Dallon. He does everything on his terms. Besides, he worships the ground you walk on. He's not just gonna decide that when his life sucks, he's gonna make it suck more and throw you to the wolves. That's not how he works."

“I know.” Brendon swallowed, and he did. He was right. Dallon loved him. Dallon loved him. So why did it feel like he didn’t? “But... what if we drifted? What if something changed? Because maybe it’s changing right now. I miss him but I’m so fucking mad at him. I don’t know if I want to be with somebody who just leaves whenever they want with no regard to how it affects me.”

“You’re not thinking of breaking up with him, tiny, are you?”

“I don’t know!” He snapped, but realized that wasn’t going to help anyone and took a deep breath instead. “I don’t know. I don’t want to, but... how can I trust that he won’t do this again? Or how can I trust that he even cares about me if he's just up and leaving without a fucking reason? Or at least without giving me a fucking reason?"

"Brendon, think rationally about this." Tyler interrupted, but Brendon wasn’t any good at that. "Just take a deep breath. Think of who Dallon is. Think about what he's going through right now. This runs so much deeper than you. And I love you and I love that you care so much, and I know you want him to be safe and you want your relationship back to a stable place but you are making this about yourself. Don't do that. You can't think selfishly anymore. Not when you have so many other things to consider."

Brendon fell back on his bed, covering his eyes with his arm and sighing obnoxiously. "Fuck, you're right. I hate when you're right."

"I'm always right." Tyler taunted, and Brendon pouted up at the ceiling because again, he was right. "Listen, you're freaking out about this to everybody but the person you need to be freaking out about this to. You and Dallon need to talk about your relationship, Brendon, seriously. Because it's not gonna last if you keep telling this to everybody but him."

"I would if he would answer his goddamn phone."

"No you wouldn't. I know you.” Brendon folded his arms. “You'd continue to keep it bottled up and you would try to preserve everyone's feelings but you need to put your relationship with Dallon at the top of your priorities if you really, truly care about him. You do, don't you?"

Brendon looked up at the dinosaur holding a cake, offended. "Of course I do."

"Then fuck, Bren, focus on that. While he's gone, try and figure shit out for yourself. Think about what you want to say when you see him. If you keep hiding your feelings from him, then you guys will never last.” He reasoned, and Brendon reached up to wipe at his cheeks suddenly, he hadn’t even realized he was crying. “Now I'm gonna go, tiny, I need to sleep. But tomorrow afternoon we’re going to drive around, and it’s gonna be okay. Just hang tight, yeah?”

"Yeah. Okay. Thank you for everything. I'm naming my first born after you." He sniffled.

"You owe me like, six thousand first borns by now. We'll call it an even one." Brendon half smiled, but he still didn’t feel any better. "Love you, princess."

"You too. Night." He sighed before he dropped his phone onto the mattress beside him. The thing was that he was right. Maybe this was deeper than Brendon. Maybe he didn’t have a reason to be upset. Dallon had his coping mechanisms. He was going to use them, and Brendon was going to question him.

He just had to try and save their relationship. He refused to believe that it was doomed. They may have hit a wall, but they were still bandaging their wounds. They were salvageable.

Were they?

Brendon found himself anxious again when he woke up the next morning, trembling as he got up and got dressed and looked dead in the mirror. And he felt dead as he sat in the backseat of Josh’s car, playing with the window button and keeping an eye out though it was useless. If Dallon was going to hide he would do it better than leaving his car out for someone to find.

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked quietly, sitting to his left and watching him though Brendon hadn’t realized. Brendon shook his head, but didn’t tear his gaze away from the street as he peered out the cracked window for a white car. He knew they weren’t gonna find him. This was stupid. Dallon was good at disappearing. So didn’t that make all of this just pathetic? “He’s gonna be alright, Bren.”

“You don’t know that.” He snapped, but wouldn’t look him in the eye as he wiped tears off his cheeks and sniffled, glaring out the window as they drove by Wilbur park.

“I actually do,” Ryan promised, and it sounded empty though he knew Dallon better than Brendon did, he was coming to realize. He reached out to grab at Brendon’s hand, and Brendon let him.

“Why are we doing this?” Tyler asked suddenly, leaning his head back against the seat with a sigh. Everyone looked at him in disbelief, and he added, “I just mean, we’re driving around town looking for him like he’s some lost dog. He ran away from home, you guys, he’s not gonna be wandering around outside. He’s not gonna leave his car out where anyone could find it. Dallon’s smarter than all of us. If he ran away from home, he’s not anywhere around here.”

“He’s right.” Ryan agreed, and he was, because Dallon always thought these things through. He wasn’t one to make things easy. “This isn’t helping anything. Fuck. I don’t know what else to do.” He put his head in his hands and Brendon turned to look at him, paranoid.

“There’s nothing we can do.” Josh sighed, surprisingly calm for someone who had seen Dallon at his worst though he was always more positive than the rest of them. “We just have to hope for the best, I guess. Looking for him won’t make him wanna come home any sooner. He’s gonna come back.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” Brendon snapped. Josh looked at him through the rearview mirror but said nothing, and Tyler twisted in his seat as Ryan reached out to grab at his shoulder. “No, what if he’s hurt or in danger, or-“

“Brendon. Bren, c’mere.” Ryan tugged him across the middle seat and pulled him into a hug, his body shaking, as tears slid down his cheeks. “Hey, it’s gonna be fine. Dallon’s not gonna leave you. He’s not gonna leave us.”

“But he did.”

“He’s gonna come back. He always does.” Ryan promised, he knew, and he smoothed Brendon’s hair down when it stuck to his face with tears. “Come on. You’re thinking worst case scenario. Dallon is smart and he knows his limits. He might be fucking impulsive and idiotic but he knows.” Brendon buried his face in Ryan’s shoulder, and Ryan added quietly, “Josh, can you drop us off at Brendon’s?”

Josh nodded silently and Brendon looked up at him, eyes wide, but didn’t contend because he didn’t know how to say he wanted to be alone. Dallon was independent. He acted on his own. He didn’t care about anyone but himself. Brendon just wished that he was the exception to that.

“Let’s go.” Ryan took his hand as they stepped out of the car in front of the diner ten minutes later, not giving him much of a choice as he waved goodbye to his friends and led Brendon in through the diner.

“What are we doing?” Brendon asked in tears, not really in the mood to hang out.

“We’re talking.” Ryan decided, and Brendon let him lead him up the spiral staircase.

As they took off their shoes in the front room, Brendon’s mom poked her head out of the kitchen to greet them, but sighed when she saw her son in tears. “Hi, Ryan. No luck, baby?” She asked, watching him pull off his jacket, disheartened. He shook his head, sniffling, and she added, “I’m sure he’s okay.”

“He is,” Ryan promised with a nod, though it sounded more hopeful than honest. Brendon didn’t bother forcing a smile in agreement as he started toward the staircase so Ryan followed him, smiling apologetically at Brendon’s mother, and could only watch with unease when Brendon slammed his bedroom door shut behind him.

“What do you wanna talk about?” Brendon asked, seeming frantic as he turned to face him.

“Brendon.” Ryan reached out to grab his biceps and Brendon realized he was shaking, avoiding eye contact and trying to bite back tears though he couldn’t. “Brendon, you need to calm down. Hey.”

“I’m so scared.” He cried as Ryan pulled him into a hug, holding his head against his shoulder.

“I know, Bren, but I promise you, he’s going to be fine. I’ve gone months without hearing from Dallon. Months. This is nothing. He loves you so much, and he’s not gonna disappear. He’s just trying to run away from his problems because he doesn’t know how to face them. You are not a problem. You are not the reason he’s gone. Trust me. You trust me?” Brendon nodded, sobbing into his shoulder. “Okay. Sit down, Bren. C’mon.” He sat them down on Brendon’s bed and Brendon pulled away to wipe his face, suddenly feeling pathetic because this wasn’t his job. This wasn’t anybody’s job. He shouldn’t be crying over a boy. “C’mon. Let’s talk about Dallon. It’s about time you and I have a conversation about him.”

Brendon nodded, choking on a sob, and he guessed it was. “I, um.” He pawed at his cheeks and looked down at his lap, suddenly feeling ashamed for talking about him behind his back because he knew this wasn’t going to solve anything. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Yeah you do,” Ryan said. Brendon looked up at him, and nodded slowly because he did. He didn’t know how but he did.

“I’m terrified of the parts of him that I don’t know.” He admitted, but it sounded pathetic when he said it out loud. He was scared of not knowing. Everyone was scared of not knowing. “I am. I mean, Dallon is the love of my life. I mean that. I really do. But what if there are parts of him that are really bad? Parts of him that I won’t be able to handle? What if I’m not strong enough to love him because I’m scared of enough already, and if there’s anything that he does that scares me, I don’t... I don’t know, Ryan. What if I can’t take it?” The question stung on his lips when Ryan shook his head, as if to say he didn’t know. “Because— because look at this. He ran away. He did last weekend, too, except he had a reason. He still didn’t tell me, though. And I thought we fixed it but then, like, he disappeared again. And I’m terrified again. Because I love him but I’m scared of him. What he’s capable of. And I don’t wanna be scared of the boy I’m in love with.”

“I understand,” Ryan said, trying to calm him down because he couldn’t seem to stop crying. “And I know what it’s like to be scared of Dallon too. But take it from me, Brendon, he doesn’t have cruel intentions. He never has. He’s a good person, he just has shit communication skills and this botched sense of self.”

“I know, but I’m still so scared that everything is just a step toward the end of things.” Brendon reasoned, wiping his nose with the back of his hand and realizing how much of a mess this all made him. “I love him. But I hate him. And I miss him, too. And I don’t know what to do with all of that. I don’t know where that leaves us. I don’t even know what this is. But what if something really bad happened to him? What if his car broke down and he tried to hitchhike but the guy who picked him up raped him or killed him or both? What if he bought a plane ticket and went somewhere I’ve never even heard of and is never coming back? What if he kills himself, Ryan? I’m never going to forgive him for leaving but I’m never going to forgive myself for being so mad at him if he ends up hurt.”

“He’s not gonna kill himself.” Ryan shook his head gently, like he wouldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it. “He promised.”

“Yeah, well. The boy breaks promises.” Brendon figured, and Ryan glanced up at him with a sigh because he knew he was right. Dallon was so goddamn good at lying. “I thought I could trust him.” He added, voice breaking, and wiped tears off of his cheek with the heel of his hand. “He told me that I could trust him.”

“I think that...” Ryan swallowed, reaching out to place a hand on his knee, each movement calculated as he tried to find the words to say. “I think that you can’t take anything that Dallon does to heart. He’s a hard person to be friends with. He’s a hard person to be with. And he’s self-destructive, and scary, and he puts himself first. Which isn’t a bad thing, it’s just... sometimes he forgets he has other people to care for.”

“You can say that again,” Brendon muttered bitterly, glaring down at his lap; all of a sudden he realized that this wasn’t going to work. He and Dallon. Maybe they were fooling themselves the whole time. People like them couldn’t be together. People like them didn’t stand a chance.

“But what I do know, Brendon, is that he loves you.” He added, and Brendon looked up, wiping his cheeks again with a hiccup. It wouldn’t hurt to hear that from him once in a while. “And he wants you in his life. And I don’t think he’s going to end things anytime soon. So it’s up to you. You need to make that decision based on what you need. If you break up with him I’ll be here for both of you. But you need to be able to make that decision. You can’t torture yourself like this.”

“I don’t know,” Brendon whined helplessly. He shouldn’t be trusted to make this kind of decision himself. There were too many reasons to leave but even more not to. “I don’t wanna lose him. I just don’t know if I can keep doing this.”

“Then you guys have to have a long talk when he gets home. C’mere.” He pulled Brendon close and Brendon leaned his head on his shoulder, staring at a photo of him and Dallon on his bookshelf and wondering if he should end things before they got worse. If any of this was worth it. “You need to calm down, okay? Dallon does this. He hurts people. He doesn’t mean to, but he does. And he’s complicated, Brendon, and the truth is it’s gonna take you a really long time to get to know him. And it’s worth it if you do, but it takes a lot of energy. You have to make sure you’re ready for that.” He pat his arm, a good luck pat, and Brendon took in a shuddering breath as Ryan sat up, leaving a hand on his shoulder. “That’s all I have to say. I’m gonna go home, but I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Brendon agreed, and he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to tell him he helped. Because he did. Brendon just didn’t know how to determine whether he was strong enough to wait years before he knew the boy he fell in love with. “Thank you.” He added, and Ryan nodded, never really getting just how good of a friend he was. He forced a smile when Ryan let himself out, telling him to take it easy because he meant what he said, Dallon would be fine. Brendon just had to find it in him to believe it.

* * *

Brendon pushed a hand through his wet, unbrushed hair after a long shower, having locked himself in the bathroom to stare at the tiled wall, dripping with condensation, as he tried to make a decision. But he hadn’t and he couldn’t, and he wiped his hand off on his sweatpants as he went to check his phone, left to charge on his side table because Tyler had been texting all evening to check up on him. He was sick of being checked up on. But when the screen lit up, it wasn’t Tyler’s name on the screen. It was Dallon’s.

Dally: I’m okay I’m safe don’t worry about me

He pulled his phone off the charger with wide eyes and sat down on the edge of his bed, suddenly hot all over and anxious enough to make him shake. Twenty-three minutes ago. Dallon had texted him twenty-three minutes ago and he was too busy wondering if he should put an end to the relationship to get the message. If this was supposed to make him feel better then Dallon was shit at comforting because Brendon felt like he was going to puke.

Bumblebee: where are you

Bumblebee: when are you coming home

Bumblebee: dallon

Bumblebee: dallon what the fuck

Brendon stared at the screen until it turned black and Dallon didn’t answer. And he didn’t answer twenty minutes later when Brendon was sobbing into his hand again, because this wasn’t fair, he was supposed to be here, he was supposed to come home. Brendon didn’t do anything wrong. He apologized. Dallon promised it was okay. So why did he leave?

Brendon squeezed his eyes shut; he needed to make a decision.

* * *

Brendon rocked back and forth on his heels as he stood behind Ryan, waiting until Dallon’s mother opened the door to the apartment. She hugged them each, going through the motions of asking if they wanted something to eat or drink, guiding them toward the living room of an apartment that felt empty without Dallon in it.

“Are you gonna file a missing person’s report?” Brendon watched Dallon’s mother pace back and forth in front of him. “Cause he’s been gone for a few days and I’m getting really nervous and I think we should try something bigger like going to the police or, I don’t know. The feds. Or SWAT. Or the White House.”

“If he doesn’t come back in the next couple of days I will. Call the police, that is.” She turned to look at Brendon with a sigh. “But he’s eighteen. He’s a legal adult. If he wants to leave home then I can’t stop him.”

Brendon shook his head, and that didn’t make any sense. He ran away. He was missing. His mother was still his mother. Boulder City was still his home. Someone had to do something. “But-“

“No, Bren, she’s right.” Ryan interrupted, and Brendon slumped back in his seat, distressed. What if it wasn’t temporary? What if he was gone forever? It felt so easy to want to run away. Cut ties and disappear. Brendon couldn’t blame Dallon for leaving. “Do you have any idea why he’d leave? Did he say anything, or hint at it, or...?”

“He’s upset at me for dating again.” She fell back on the couch and Brendon froze, realizing then that maybe this wasn’t his fault at all. “He told me that he didn’t like my boyfriend, and wanted me to break up with him. And I said no. And I told him months ago to tell me when he was uncomfortable and he never said anything so I guess he’s been holding it in for months and that’s why he reacted this way. He bottles things up until they explode. But he just ran out, he didn’t even take clothes with him.”

“Then he can’t be staying wherever he is for long.”

Brendon got up, trying to choke back tears. Of course that was what it was. His mother. Running away from his problems and trying to search for his answers. Like his story of self-destruction except there was no thunderstorm or a feeling of clarity. There was just an unspeakable gap between Dallon and who he used to be. Just a faceless stranger trying to mend a broken family. Brendon never would have pushed him had he known how bad things really were.

“The last time he did this he was gone for a week. So I guess in a way this isn’t that bad, right? He’s gonna come home.”

“I don’t know.” She put her head in her hands. “He was really mad at me. I’ve been calling him every day but his phone is off, and I can’t track him, and I don’t know what to do. Have either of you heard anything from him?”

“Wait, yeah,” Brendon said suddenly, going to grab his phone from his back pocket. It had completely slipped his mind. The text. “Yeah, he texted me last night. I tried texting him back and he didn’t answer.” He fumbled to unlock his phone, handing it to Dallon’s mother and going to bite at his thumb nail anxiously as she read it over. “I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean, he says he’s safe, but I don’t know why he texted me. He’s been mad at me too.”

“Fuck,” Ryan breathed out, shaking his head. “So he turned on his phone for a second to text you and turned it back off. At least we know he’s alive.”

Brendon sniffled, and he didn’t know what to say. Was that supposed to be comforting or concerning? “I guess he did.” He said quietly, taking his phone back. “I think, um. I think I’m gonna go home, if you don’t need me. I don’t really have anything else, and I have to work, and I just-“

“Yeah, Bren, you can go home,” Dallon’s mom assured him, getting up to pull him into a hug though he couldn’t find it in him to fully reciprocate. “Thank you for coming, sweetie. I just wanted to see you. I promise I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

“Thanks.” He sniffled, and Ryan got up too, following Brendon to the door. “You can stay, if you want. I kind of just wanna be alone right now.”

“Okay. Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Ryan hugged him too and Brendon nodded, trying not to cry. “Remember what I said. Don’t take this to heart.” He whispered. Brendon was trying but it wasn’t that easy.

Down on the street again, the cool air hit his face as the lobby door swung shut behind him. Brendon rushed toward the bus stop with tears in his eyes, holding a hand over his mouth to mute his sob. Dallon didn’t care. He didn’t care because if he did then he wouldn’t have left. He just wanted him to come home. He just wanted to know what to do or say to make all of this feel a little less like the end of something.

“Hi, ipo,” Brendon’s mother greeted as he pushed through the door of the diner, having wiped away his tears before he got off the bus though his skin was still blotchy and red. He didn’t bother forcing a smile as he headed behind the counter, reaching for his apron clumsily. “What did Leann have to say?”

“Just that Dallon left because of her boyfriend.” He huffed; he could point fingers all he wanted. At Jack for sweeping Dallon’s mother off her feet. At Dallon’s mother herself for falling for him, for telling Dallon he came first, for telling lies because she didn’t know at the time that they would be. At the man who killed Dallon’s father or at God or at Dallon for leaving in the first place. But when it all came down to it, not only one person was to blame. Everyone was. No one was. “She hasn’t heard from him.”

“He’ll be home soon.” She promised like she knew, though at this point it was starting to sound more like a prayer than a reassurance.

“Right.” He agreed, and he knew it was important to stay optimistic but his throat ached with a sob he swallowed down and he didn’t know what to believe here.

He sorted sugar packets in between orders, watching the dinner rush come and go and praying that when the door opened it would be Dallon, apologetic and ready to explain himself. But he knew Dallon and he knew that wasn’t him.

“Hey, baby, we’re closing soon, why don’t you leave early? You look like you need a break.” His mother pat his back suddenly a few hours later, and he looked up to see people trickling out, heading toward the darkened sky. It was pushing seven o’clock, and he’d been aimlessly wiping down the counter for a while now.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m gonna go.” Brendon agreed, suddenly overwhelmed, fumbling to take his apron off before he left it on the counter and turned to rush into the supply closet because he didn’t want to have to face everybody upstairs. His mother watched with concern as her youngest disappeared, but said nothing because he needed this. To break down where no one could tell him that everything was going to be okay.

He leaned forward with his head in his hands, choking out a sob and not bothering to try and muffle it. Let everyone hear him. Let the whole city hear him. He didn’t care. He just cried into his hand, loud and messy and scared, because he didn’t know what else to do anymore. Things had never felt so estranged. Hopeless.

He slid down the wall and buried his face in his knees, chest aching with tears as he tried to stop them. Dallon didn’t care about him. He couldn’t care about him. Because he was wherever he was, and Brendon was crying in a supply closet trying to remember why he fell for this boy in the first place.

“Bren?” His mother knocked on the door what seemed like ages later, making him glance up but not make a sound as she pushed open the door cautiously. “Hey, babe. You okay?” She asked gently, refraining from reaching out to touch him as he shook his head. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No.” He sniffled, but got up to dust himself off anyway. This was pathetic. Crying in the closet at work. He was better than this. He had to be better than this. He had more pride than letting a boy make him cry.

He wiped his cheeks, and that was the thing. It wasn’t fun anymore when all he was doing was wondering what the hell this was.

“No, I don’t wanna talk about it. I don’t even wanna think about it. Is everybody gone?” Wordlessly she nodded, leaning against the doorframe. “Okay. I’m gonna go sit down and get something to drink. Sorry.” He moved past her and back into the diner, aware that she was watching skeptically because he wasn’t fine. Nothing about this was fine.

His mother left him to pretend and went upstairs once the door was locked and the sign read closed, leaving Brendon alone at the counter with a glass of soda because it was too late for coffee and he didn’t feel like a hot drink. He pushed his straw around, chasing ice, letting his mind wander though he hadn’t meant to.

“Hey, kid.” Brendon’s dad greeted suddenly, reaching out to nudge his shoulder to get his attention. Brendon looked up at him, blinking tears off his lashes, and didn’t bother forcing a smile as he began to dry the remaining glasses with his rag. “What’s going on?”

“I think I might break up with Dallon,” Brendon admitted quietly, the words feeling foreign on his tongue. He never thought he’d say them; he had been thinking them for days, but it didn’t feel like it could be a reality. Not until he realized that at some point he might just have to get used to Dallon being gone.

His dad looked up at him stoically, cleaning out a glass, and said, “That’s a big decision.”

“Does that mean a bad decision?” He asked and his father shrugged, more or less, leaving Brendon even more uncertain. “Daddy.” He pleaded. He needed an answer from someone else. He couldn’t come up with one himself.

“I think that you need to do what you think is going to be best for your health.” He reasoned, never being one to tell Brendon what he thought the better option was, and Brendon knew that but the problem was he lost either way. “I know you love him, and you’ve been happy with him, but we grow out of things and we change and you may be changing. So might he. And that isn’t always a bad thing. So I think you have to ask yourself if he’s worth fighting for, or if you have to cut your losses because it’s gone too far. I don’t think anyone else can make that decision for you.”

“You’re right.” Brendon began to play with his straw again before he went to rub at his eyes. He just wished it was more black and white. “I’m just... I keep trying to measure the worth of all of this. Because I love him, and I want him in my life, but what if this all means I can’t trust him? Or that he means more to me than I do to him? I don’t want to be the one who loves more. I want us to be equal. I want us to be partners. And I want to work this out. But to do that he needs to tell me who he really is and I just don’t know if he’s capable of doing that.”

“It’s hard opening up when you’re guarded. You of all people know that.”

“I know. He’s just so difficult to understand.” He rested his chin in the palm of his hand and watched his dad stack a few glasses by the soda machine. “I just wanna skip all of this and fast forward to being happily married where all the hard parts are over.”

“Don’t wish your life away, Brens.” His dad turned to look at him and, despite the circumstance, smiled. He saw himself in his son because he had felt the same way once upon a time. Brendon stared back at him, never having known just how important it was to live, and he wanted to but he didn’t know how. “You’re gonna have a lot of good memories with the bad ones too.”

He tried to smile back, but it didn’t feel like he had anything to look forward to. “I hope one of them isn’t having to cut off the most important person in my life.”

“You’ll work things out. I have faith in you.” He kissed his forehead and Brendon sniffled. “Go to bed. Wait until Dallon comes home and you two talk before you make any life changing decisions.”

“Yeah.” Yeah, that was probably a good idea. “Okay. Thanks, daddy.” He slid out of his seat and took a final sip of his drink before he escaped upstairs, trying to ease his shaking. He couldn’t just decide to cut Dallon off. He couldn’t just do that to him. Them.

He didn’t even really know if there was a them anymore.

* * *

“Brendon?” His mother’s voice made him crack an eye open, still hazy with sleep and bliss until he realized. He shifted in bed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and she asked, “I’ve been calling you. It’s time to get up.”

“Mmm.” He groaned, curling up and hiding under the covers. He didn’t want to face today. He didn’t want to face any day. “I feel like I’m gonna puke.”

“Is this actual sickness, or wanting to get out of school sickness?” She leaned against the doorframe, and he peeked out from under his comforter to look at her smiling sympathetically.

“Anxiety.” He peeped; he really did feel sick to his stomach. “I barely slept. I kept waking up and having those weird racing thoughts and my brain wouldn’t stop making noise.”

She clucked her tongue, tilting her head at him as she watched him try and retreat further into his bed. “I’ll tell you what. Go back to bed, and when you wake up, come down to work and I’ll keep you busy. You can stay home from school today, but you’re going tomorrow.”

“Okay. Thanks, mama.” He tried to smile and she went to twist his blinds to darken his room. He buried his face in his pillow and she sighed, pulling his curtains shut and going to brush a hand through his hair before she pressed a kiss to the top of his head and left him to fall back asleep.

Dallon wasn’t at school, Ryan had texted, though Brendon wasn’t shocked. He just let his mother put him to work, cleaning off tables and washing dishes because he didn’t feel like talking to people today, and it was a nice distraction until he started thinking again. It had been almost a week. Almost a week, and Dallon felt like a stranger.

He stared out the window of his father’s car on Friday morning, watching familiar buildings pass until he pulled up to the sidewalk in front of the school. Brendon thanked him, only nodded when he told him to have a good day because he didn’t have the heart to say that he knew he wouldn’t, and went to find Tyler waiting for him on the sidewalk.

“Hey, are you okay? You weren’t here yesterday and you didn’t text me.” Tyler asked as Brendon approached him, reaching out to pull him into a hug.

“Yeah, I’m fine, everything’s fine. I just felt sick.” He hugged him back, still feeling that sickening anxiety twist in his stomach, and Tyler pulled away to look at him skeptically. “Seriously.”

“Okay.” Tyler clearly didn’t believe him though he wouldn’t say it, and let his eyes wander from Brendon’s face to somewhere behind him. He was quiet for a second while Brendon watched him wordlessly, too tired to try and make conversation, and then his eyes narrowed, squinted, and his eyebrows went up in shock. “Bren.” He nodded his head over Brendon’s shoulder, and Brendon turned to see Dallon walking toward Josh’s car, gripping the strap of his bag tightly like he was wary. Like he was seconds from having to get away again.

Before thinking it over Brendon darted toward him, seeming to catch his attention quick because Dallon enveloped Brendon in a hug as soon as he reached him. “Hi, Bren.” He said quietly, timidly, and Brendon pulled away from the hug like he were on fire, suddenly realizing just how mad at him he was.

“Don’t you ever fucking do that again.” He hissed, shoving Dallon away from him.

“Dallon,” Ryan called from Josh’s car, and he and Josh made their way over to the two, not even giving Dallon a minute to explain himself.

“What the fuck, man?” Josh pulled Dallon in a hug; he was the only one, though, as Ryan was glaring and Tyler was just approaching slowly, going to stand by Brendon protectively because all of a sudden, Dallon was someone he needed to be protected from. “We were about to call in a missing person’s report. Your face would have been on the side of a milk carton. Where the hell did you go?”

Dallon stepped back to look at all of them calculatedly, at his boyfriend and a protective best friend and Ryan, and said with hesitance clear in his voice, “I was with Ardan.”

Ryan stared at him in disbelief, narrowing his eyes dangerously. “Fuck you, Dallon.” He snapped, and Dallon glared back at him but said nothing when he reached out to grab his wrist. “Come with me.”

Dallon turned to meet Brendon’s eyes as Ryan pulled him toward the school. Brendon’s heart was pounding, this wasn’t his Dallon, this couldn’t be his Dallon, because his Dallon didn’t scare him like this. His Dallon didn’t feel like a stranger. “Meet me after school, I’ll explain everything.” He promised, and Brendon could barely nod before Ryan pulled him away harshly.

Brendon watched them go warily, and Tyler wrapped an arm around his shoulders defensively. Hesitantly, Brendon started to ask, “Ardan is...?”

“Ryan’s brother,” Josh said, and Brendon’s eyebrows went up in disbelief, looking over toward them again. Josh shook his head, disappointment clear in his eyes, and turned to add over his shoulder as he started after his friends, “we’re gonna talk to him, Bren.”

Brendon nodded speechlessly, eyes wide and trying to let it sink in. He’d been gone five days. Five days was a long time for someone to disappear from their life. Brendon was starting to think that this wasn’t healthy anymore. The impulsivity. It wasn’t just Brendon and Dallon anymore. It wasn’t just them living as a whole. They were individuals again, and Brendon hadn’t even realized when he’d given up his independence for the unity in the first place but maybe it was a problem and he didn’t even know it.

“Are you okay?” Tyler asked quietly, turning to look at absent eyes.

Brendon swallowed thickly, his gaze training on three retreating figures as they disappeared into the school. He didn’t know what he thought was going to happen when Dallon got home. If he thought he would apologize on his hands and knees and beg for forgiveness. If Brendon would see him and forget everything. If he would realize suddenly that this was something worth keeping.

“Standby.” He whispered, throat closing around his tears.

Josh chased Ryan and an irritated Dallon down the hallway to where Ryan’s locker sat in the main hall, vacant because class didn’t start for another fifteen minutes. He didn’t release his tight grip on Dallon’s arm until he was at his locker, out of sight of any peers, and Dallon sighed but knew well enough not to leave because Ryan always found him. “What do you want?” He asked, sounding bored, though they all knew.

“Listen to me. This is not okay. This isn’t a teen drama. You are not allowed to use my family for your bullshit, Dallon.” He hissed furiously, and Dallon looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “Do you hear me? You are not allowed.”

“I’m not doing anything to be dramatic, believe it or not. You have no fucking idea what’s going on right now.” Dallon snapped, and he hated yelling at Ryan but sometimes he just didn’t know what else to do. “You have no fucking idea. I feel like I can’t breathe here sometimes, in this fucking city, and I didn’t wanna be here. I couldn’t be here. Maybe that’s dramatic to you but I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“But why him?!” He asked desperately, and he knew they were friends, knew Dallon trusted him, but didn’t see why Dallon was still hiding in his secrets after all this time.

“Because he’s not in Nevada!” He threw his hands up and Ryan crossed his arms. “Because I couldn’t afford a hotel so I stayed with him for a few days. And I’m fucking glad I did, okay? I’m glad. Because I can’t deal with everything here sometimes. All the people. I feel like I’m fucking suffocating.”

“Oh, all the people including your boyfriend. The boyfriend who is fucking scared of everything!” He raised his voice before realizing that they were in a school hallway and lowered it again, though it stung just as bad when he added, “I can’t believe you would do that to him.”

Dallon started to shake his head with clear reluctance. “I didn’t-“

“No, Dallon, he’s right.” Josh interrupted quietly, and Dallon turned to look at him in surprise. “How could you do that to him?”

“It had nothing to do with Brendon.” He argued defensively, never being one to admit when he was wrong. Josh looked down at his sneakers and Ryan shook his head, disappointed because he thought things were better now. Like they’d finally burned all the old bridges they had been crossing back and forth for years. “Seriously. It didn’t. And I know that it might sound stupid to you but I needed to leave. You don’t get it.”

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t.” He agreed, and Dallon took a wary step back. “I don’t get it. Because I don’t run from my problems. I think about other people. The fact that you don’t think this has anything to do with Brendon shows how arrogant you really are.”

“Okay, we’re back to this? I’m arrogant now? Because I went away for a few days because I didn’t want to be home. That makes me arrogant.”

“No, you’re arrogant because you didn’t think before you did this. And I know you have to put yourself first sometimes, I know that’s important, but you have to go about that in a better way. Like telling your friends or your boyfriend or literally anyone where you were going! Brendon was terrified, Dallon. Terrified. He thought you were dead or gonna kill yourself or something. He was miserable thinking that you left him for a reason. And that you weren’t gonna come back. That boy is the best goddamn thing that’s ever happened to you. Don’t hurt him. Don’t fuck that up.”

“I wasn’t trying to hurt him!” Dallon argued defensively, and he really wasn’t, but he did and he didn’t know what to do with that.

“But you were careless.” He said with finality, and Dallon stopped to listen to him because he could feel tears clawing at his eyes. “That’s the thing. You were careless and unfair and idiotic and you did a stupid thing. Running away is a big deal, Dallon. To somebody who lost her husband, and to somebody who’s scared of everything and to me, it’s a big deal. And I know you needed to get away but there are a thousand ways you could have done that without the impulsivity.”

Dallon stared at him, feeling tears build up in his throat. He never thought about Brendon being scared. Only about him being mad. His being scared was a whole other story. “I didn’t think about that.” He admitted quietly.

“No. Of course you didn’t.”

“I don’t only think about myself, Ryan.” Dallon grit his teeth, tears welling up in his eyes. It was oddly reminiscent of the way they used to fight, but now Ryan was fighting for something else. For someone else. He wasn’t on Dallon’s side, and Dallon wasn’t against himself, for once. Maybe he should be.

“Just sometimes I wonder.” Ryan sighed, going to twist his locker open like it were nothing. Like suddenly he was done arguing. Josh looked between them and said nothing, didn’t really want to be in the middle of it, and Dallon bit back tears. “Sometimes I think you changed and then you just keep acting like you did when you were at your worst. And if it’s getting bad again, Dal,”

“It’s not.” He interrupted.

“Have you-“

“Yes, but it’s not.” He insisted desperately. Ryan shoved his jacket in his locker and quirked an eyebrow, disbelieving. “I promise. I just get angry sometimes. I just get upset. I’m not gonna kill myself or anything. It’s not that bad. Stop assuming the worst of me.”

“Yeah, well. It’s really fucking easy to do that when you’re giving me no reason to believe you.” He slammed his locker shut and Josh flinched, watching a tear slip down Dallon’s cheek just before he wiped it away with a trembling hand. “I gotta go. Talk to me when you’re not acting like a child.”

He took off down the hall and Dallon took in a shuddering breath, unprepared for that; he was never really prepared for things like these, though. Josh placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it, not knowing exactly what to say, because he’d been stuck in the middle before. It wasn’t a place that anybody wanted to be.

“He’s right, Dallon,” Josh said gently, and Dallon looked at him, disbelieving. “You hurt a lot of people. Make amends before it’s too late.”

And then he disappeared in the direction Ryan had gone, and Dallon was left staring after them in tears, not knowing what to say. Making amends wasn’t easy. Not when he had messed up so badly.

* * *

Brendon was shaking when he looked up to see Dallon approaching him in the parking lot after school. He stood up straight, back against Dallon’s car, and didn’t say a word as he waited for Dallon to unlock it. “Hello to you too,” Dallon said quietly, and Brendon climbed into the passenger seat. He didn’t want friendly banter. He didn’t want Dallon to flirt with him and make him smile and tell him what he thought he wanted to hear. He just wanted his answers.

He looked out the window when Dallon climbed into the driver’s seat, fixating his gaze on a chip in the paint on the car beside Dallon’s because he didn’t want to see that look in his eye right now.

He had fallen in love with Dallon so hard and so fast that they crashed into each other. Now he wondered if that crashing became colliding became destroying each other.

Dallon parked in front of the macaron place and Brendon looked up at the building, biting on his thumb nail and not saying that he didn’t want to be here. Dallon circled the car to let him out and they were painfully silent as they started into the building, Brendon claiming a seat and Dallon going to get them a few macarons.

“So,” Brendon said shortly when Dallon set the plate down in between them. “Are you gonna explain what the fuck happened or are you just gonna try and charm your way out of it?”

Dallon sighed, resting his elbows on the table, and pushed his hands through his hair. “Don’t snap at me, Brendon. I’ve had a shitty couple of days and I got yelled at enough in the past twenty hours and I can’t hear it from you too. I’m gonna explain. Just let me do that, okay?”

Brendon’s stomach sank, and this was the first time they had talked in almost a week. He didn’t want it to have to be the last. “Sorry. I’m just... can you please tell me? I’ve kind of had a really bad couple of days too.”

Dallon nodded civilly, reaching out for his plastic cup of soda and taking a long sip as Brendon’s eyes trailed away from his own. He stalled for a second, taking his time to think, and Brendon went to push a macaron onto the other side of the plate. “I told my mom that I was uncomfortable with Jack.” He started carefully, and Brendon looked up to meet his eyes. “She said, basically, that it doesn’t matter if I don’t like him. That it won’t change anything. And I know that it was elementary to think that she would break up with him for me. I know. But that doesn’t mean it hurts any less. Regardless of what you or anybody else thinks, I have the right to want him out of the picture. I have the right to be upset.”

“Of course you do, Dallon, but that doesn’t explain why you ran away for a week and didn’t tell anybody where you went.” He argued, trying to keep his voice down because it was easy to eavesdrop in a small place like this.

“I...” He sighed, and Brendon watched him with his shoulders squared defensively. “Do you remember when you told me that sometimes you get really overwhelmed around your family because you’re all on top of each other all the time? Especially when there’s a lot going on?” Wordlessly, Brendon nodded. “That’s how I feel sometimes. I love BC but sometimes I feel trapped here. I feel like I can’t breathe. And that’s not to say I don’t appreciate the people I have here, because I do, but when everybody is watching me, and trying to pinpoint everything I do to see if I’m okay, it gets overwhelming. So I left because I needed a break. Sometimes I just need a break. I need to get away from everyone and I don’t want you to take it personally because it wasn’t about you.”

Brendon stared at him, and he knew it wasn’t about him, knew it wasn’t his fault, but in a way it was. They were supposed to be there for each other. They were supposed to be each other’s rock. Dallon disappearing just meant that Brendon wasn’t enough to help. He didn’t know what to do about that.

Dallon said nothing as he waited for Brendon to answer, but Brendon didn’t know how. He was so sure that when Dallon came home the right decision would be clear, but now he was caught in the middle of hating him and feeling guilty for it.

Brendon shook his head, lacing his fingers through his hair in exasperation. He didn’t even know where to begin. What to say. He didn’t have to tell him where he was going but he could have told him he was leaving. He could have trusted him. A relationship without trust and mutual respect was hardly a relationship at all. “I am so mad at you right now.”

Dallon nodded calmly. “I understand. And I don’t blame you. And I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I just need you to understand why I did what I did. I mean, you know me. At least I like to think that you do.” He watched Brendon for a second, and only swallowed thickly when he said nothing. “I don’t know how to change my coping mechanisms because I’ve had them for so long. And I know that I hurt you and I’m sorry, Brendon, and I know I could say that a million times and it wouldn’t make things better. I should have told you what was going on. I hate that I shut you out. I just... I wanna answer your questions.”

Brendon looked down to push a macaron into its category and Dallon tried to smile, grateful to be here with him considering the circumstances. “I understand why you left. I would run away sometimes too if I could. But there’s a reason that I don’t. There’s a reason people don’t run away every day.” He looked up at him, eyes completely void of emotion. “It’s dangerous, Dallon. And stupid. And childish. And selfish, too. Though I’m sure you know this.”

“I do.”

“Great. So you don’t need me to tell you.” He pulled his hand away from the plate, going to crack his knuckles aimlessly. “Look. I know that you’re hurt. And obviously there’s no way I can know how you feel. My family situation isn’t like yours. But you having a hard time doesn’t make it okay to just... leave.” He added, and Dallon wasn’t expecting him to chew him out though he nodded, listening nonetheless. “You have a family, and friends, and a partner who needs you. It may not seem like it all the time but I do. And you’re an intelligent person, Dallon, and you’re kind and conscious and levelheaded most of the time so I just don’t see why you would do something so stupid and impulsive. I would have thought... y’know, I would have thought that you would be able to handle these things better than running from them.”

“I know, and you’re right, and I wish I was better at dealing with my problems head on. I just never... knew how.” He played with his hands as Brendon stared at the ring on his finger.

“I’m glad that you’re alright,” Brendon added, and Dallon looked up hopefully. “I just wanted to let you know that. I’m really glad that you’re alright. I was scared that— that something had happened to you. You always see this stuff on TV about bad things that happens to kids who run away from home. I tend to think the worst.”

“I know.” Dallon reached out to touch his hand but decided against it. Brendon could understand his reasoning. He wished he could check out of his own life sometimes. Rent a new personality, be a different person. But that was the difference between him and Dallon. He had been taught how to cope. Dallon never accepted any help. “I needed to get away from everybody who sees me every day. And you’re right, it’s selfish and stupid and I could have gone about this in so many better ways. But I didn’t know how. I just wanted to leave. Pretend this isn’t my life. And I cried it all out, made my peace with it, and I’m ready to be home. I just want my home.”

Brendon nodded gently, not exactly unforgiving but still hesitant. He had a lot of things to sort out first. He grabbed a macaron and split it in half, handing part of it to Dallon like routine and watching him smile to himself as he accepted it like a peace offering. “Where did you go?”

Dallon picked aimlessly at the cookie before he set it down on his napkin and pushed his hair out of his eyes. Reluctantly, he admitted, “I was with Ryan’s brother. He lives in Phoenix.”

“Phoenix? Like, Phoenix, Arizona?” He asked, shocked, because that was scary. That was far. “Isn’t that hundreds of miles away?”

“About two hundred seventy. It’s a four-and-a-half-hour drive. Uh.” He looked down at his broken macaron, regret hidden in blue though Brendon knew he couldn’t be that apologetic. Dallon Weekes did what he thought was best for himself. He ran from things that threatened that.

He hadn’t even planned it. He didn’t know how long he would be gone. That gave him no time to decide what to do. Brendon knew now that he was impulsive, but he thought that Dallon would be one to be rational. Smart. Not one to run away for a week because of a disagreement.

Brendon’s eyes trained on Dallon’s, staring down at his hands. He knew things were bad at home, but... he didn’t know they were that bad. “Why Ryan’s brother?” He asked gently, not even knowing where to start.

“Because he’s not in Nevada and I needed something far from home. Had I only needed a few hours to cool off I would have gone to you or Josh or Ryan, but this... this wasn’t that. I needed to think. I needed to clear my head. So I started driving and I went through my phone and I found the one person I trust who doesn’t live in this state and I called him.”

“And you didn’t... plan anything?” He asked next, because that part was the scariest. That he just didn’t know where he’d end up.

“No.” Dallon shrugged, finally taking a bite out of the macaron. “All I knew was that I wanted to leave. I didn’t want to be around my mom. I didn’t want to be home. And Nevada is home, y’know, and I just felt like no matter where I went my mom would manage to find me. I can’t always deal with that. Ardan has a two-bedroom apartment there, he lives with his friend. They let me hang out for a while so I could take a breath. I just planned to stay until I felt ready to go home. Realized after a few days that I was never going to feel that way so I made myself go home anyway.”

“Holy shit.” Brendon breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. This wasn’t Dallon. Dallon made rational decisions. Dallon didn’t run away from home when he was upset. Or at least Brendon didn’t think he did. “Shit, Dallon, you ran away. I can’t believe you did that.”

“I’m okay, though.” He promised, but how could he be?

“I just... it scares me, thinking about you going out there all alone. Feeling like you couldn’t trust any of us to take care of you. I’m your boyfriend. You know you could have called me. I wish you had.”

Dallon looked up at him again, his hair hanging in his eyes, and Brendon was disappointed. He didn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry I didn’t. But you wouldn’t have been able to help, Brendon. I know you. You would have told me to stay with you or to go home to talk things out with my mom. And if I had stayed with you my mom would know, and she would try to get to me when I wasn’t ready. And you would constantly be asking if I was okay, and trying to give me advice, and I value you and I appreciate that you try to help me but that’s not what I needed. It’s not what I want right now. And you do know what’s best for me in a lot of cases, but this... this was something I had to handle on my own. And I was afraid that if we talked then I would have been angry at you for trying to be rational when I just wanted to cry and scream and be a child about this. I probably would have gone off on you and I don’t want to have to do that. I didn’t want to hurt you more than I already have.”

Brendon opened his mouth to say that he didn’t hurt him but the words died in his throat because that would be a lie. He was hurt. He was upset, and mad, and hurt. And he looked away, not bothering to agree or disagree, and instead asked, “Have you talked to your mom?”

He nodded, sighing uneasily, and maybe Brendon wasn’t the worst thing in the equation. “She’s pissed. Within reason, of course, but... I tried to explain why I did what I did. That I needed to calm down and compose myself before I could come back and talk about it. I just... I know it’s screwed up but I wanted her to worry about me. I wanted to remind her that I’m the most important thing in her life.” He looked down regretfully, picking at his nail beds. “I know that makes me sound crazy. I swear I’m not. I was just overthinking things again.”

“I know what you mean, though,” Brendon offered, and Dallon seemed hopeful when their eyes met again. “So you’ve talked things out with her, then? Everything is alright?”

“More or less.” He shrugged, pausing to take a sip of his drink as Brendon watched, still mostly on edge. “We kind of made a compromise. She’s gonna make sure that I have as much contact with him as I want and I have to understand that not everything is under my control. And I’m kind of controlling anyway so that’s... y’know, that’s really hard for me.”

“Yeah, it must be,” Brendon agreed quietly, and Dallon started to twist his ring off his finger.

“I told her that I’ve been feeling really neglected and unloved.” He added hesitantly, and wouldn’t look at Brendon though he could feel him stare.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” He said, almost apologetic; maybe this wasn’t all on Dallon. Maybe Brendon had been neglectful of him too.

“No, of course you didn’t, I never said anything. It’s mostly my family, it has nothing to do with you. I didn’t wanna get you involved.” He shook his head, but Brendon felt guilty for not seeing it. For not knowing how sad he was. “She promised to do better. We talked a lot when I got home last night and I really think that things will be different.”

“Good, baby. That’s really good.” Brendon reached out to touch Dallon’s fingers with his own. Dallon was repairing things slowly. Brendon needed to let himself heal too.

“Yeah. And I wanna do better too.” He said and it sounded like a promise, if Brendon dared to believe in those anymore. “I’m grounded, though. Just for the week. My mom isn’t that strict with stuff like that but she’s pretty upset with me for everything.”

“Justifiably so. I mean, you did disappear,” Brendon reasoned, and he was expecting Dallon to refute but he only nodded in agreement.

“Ryan said that you were scared.” He added, catching Brendon’s gaze again with hesitance. Brendon was never so good at admitting that. “That you thought I was gonna kill myself.”

“Yeah, well.” Brendon looked away, suddenly embarrassed; it felt like an overreaction when he was sitting here with him. But it wasn’t, and he knew that. Nothing about it was an overreaction. “He told me that you were acting the same way you did before you attempted. I didn’t know what to do with that. I just wanted to talk to you but I couldn’t.”

“I know.” Dallon slid his fingers into the spaces between Brendon’s cautiously, and Brendon hadn’t realized how scared he still was until Dallon’s touch made him feel somewhat at peace. “I’m alright, Brendon, I promise. I just needed a break. I’m smarter than I was a few years ago. I know how to handle myself and my mental illness. And I don’t want to scare you. I never want to scare you.”

“I just don’t wanna live without you.” Brendon found the words caught in his throat as he realized now that maybe not everything was infinite.

“Trust me, baby, I’m not gonna do that to you. I promise.” He crossed his heart, and Brendon wanted to believe it, he really did, but Dallon said a lot of things. Brendon wasn’t sure how many words held truth anymore. “I’m okay. I swear I am. And if I get back to the place where I think I’m going to do something then I’ll talk to you, okay? I want us to be open with each other. I want you to be able to trust me.”

“It might take me a minute,” Brendon said, tears in his eyes, as he realized that amongst many other things that had been broken too.

“That’s okay,” Dallon promised quietly.

“Okay.” He took in a shuddering breath, looking down at their hands and then up at blue eyes he had fallen in love with so long ago, feeling miles away like they almost never did. “But listen to me, Dallon. You can’t do this to me again. You can’t keep disappearing when I need you. I don’t want to have to give you an ultimatum and I know that’s pressuring and not fair to you but we can’t have a relationship if you keep leaving like this. If you don’t think about me. I know that you have your reasons but it makes me feel like I’m not...” He squirmed in his seat, not wanting to say it out loud. “I don’t know. It makes me feel like I’m not important. I can’t feel that way with you. Not anymore.”

“You’re the most important person in my life, Brendon. I know I don’t always act like it, but you are. And I wanna do better. I really do.” He tightened his grip on Brendon’s fingers and Brendon nodded, trying to take it to heart. He was important. He was important. So why didn’t he feel like he was? “If there’s anything wrong, ever, just tell me and I’ll try to fix it. I’ll try to make things right.”

“Okay.” It came out in a whisper, but felt more like a prayer.

Dallon had tears in his eyes too but Brendon said nothing, only wondered. “And I’m sorry for scaring you.” He added, voice cracking, and Brendon’s stomach was still sick with worry. Dallon said he was okay but he didn’t seem like it. Okay. Okay was just some in between. “I’m so sorry. I know that what I did hurt you and I never wanted to do that. I promised myself I wouldn’t. And I understand if you can’t forgive me. I understand if you don’t want to do this anymore.”

Brendon shook his head, and his heart pounded in his chest. Just a day ago this all seemed so clear. Now he was seeing the look in his eyes and things had never been so incomprehensible. “I love you.” He said quietly, rubbing Dallon’s thumb with his own. “And I’m trying to forgive you. I’m trying to be okay with this. I’m trying for us.”

Dallon nodded solemnly, and Brendon prayed that things would never get this bad again. Things were up in the air right now, and Dallon needed to heal. His wounds were still open. He just couldn’t find the stitches. “I’m trying for us too, Brendon.” He promised, his words holding a different meaning but the same weight of truth. “Are we okay?”

Brendon watched their fingers move into each other’s and looked up at him, at hope in his eyes and a smile that wasn’t a smile, and he tried to nod. He didn’t want to resent him. Dallon was trying. “Yeah, we’re okay.” He said uneasily, and he swore he would try too.

* * *

Dallon brought him flowers. On Saturday evening Dallon showed up at his door, clad in an actual suit, and handed him a full bouquet of flowers. “What is this for?” Brendon had asked when he pulled him into a hug, holding the flowers in one arm and Dallon in the other.

“Just because I appreciate you,” Dallon told him, and Brendon knew he was trying to buy back his trust. He knew.

He sat on Brendon’s ottoman patiently and waited for him to get dressed in something formal before he took him to a restaurant up near Vegas where he had made reservations; a date, with live music and different kinds of knives and everything. Brendon felt guilty, at himself for falling for it and at Dallon for his heart, because he knew this boy was good. He just didn’t feel okay about this.

Brendon didn’t want to be upset with him. He just was.

“You didn’t have to do this. I don’t need fancy dates or anything. It makes me feel so spoiled.” Brendon said conversationally as Dallon opened the passenger seat door for him.

“I like spoiling you,” Dallon returned, and Brendon tried to smile as Dallon circled the car and climbed in.

Brendon leaned his head to the side, watching him slide into the seat beside him. For weeks Brendon had felt like nothing he was doing had any end. Like it was all for nothing. He had been getting in his head, and now he just wanted to get back to a place where he felt okay again. The problem was, he was still trying to find where that was.

Brendon twisted the heat on and off aimlessly as Dallon fumbled with the keys in his hand. They were both quiet, Brendon's mind wandering as Dallon's was God knows where, and Brendon turned as the engine revved up, as Dallon began typing Brendon’s address into his phone’s GPS, and Brendon said quietly, "I'm still kind of upset with you, you know."

Dallon stopped, motionless for a long second, two, three, four, and with hesitance turned to look at him. "I thought you said that you were trying to forgive me.” He said, eyebrows knit in impending worry. “I thought that meant..."

Brendon nodded slowly, leaning back in his seat as he left the heat on low. "I am. And I did. But that doesn't automatically... make things okay. I accept your apology and I forgive you, and I know that after what happened I have no place to be upset with you, but..."

"It’s justified. I'm upset with me too." Dallon looked away, giving up and putting his phone in the cupholder of the middle console with a sigh. "I know bringing you flowers and to a fancy restaurant won't fix things. And I know these past two months we've been estranged, in fact we really haven't gotten along that well, and I..." He stopped, and Brendon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unused to the confrontation. "I just wanted to try and make things feel normal for a minute. Because I don't know how else to do that."

"I don't either," Brendon said, and Dallon let out a tremulous breath. Had he been on edge all night? Brendon hadn't noticed, and maybe that was part of the problem. "I have abandonment issues." He added, and when a pair of blue eyes met his gaze, he dropped it to his lap. "I have like, serious abandonment issues. And I don't know if it— if it has something to do with why I'm scared of people. Because everybody has control over me, and that scares me. Because I've always promised myself that I was gonna try not to let that happen. That's why I do what I do. Organize things, fit things into boxes, cause that's the only way I get control. And it was always just me. I mean, I had Tyler and my family too, but... I was Brendon Urie. I was alone when it mattered."

Dallon rested his head against the back of the seat, watching the way his eyes flickered when he spoke. "I know what you mean."

"I know you do." He nodded, but kept his hands to himself. "And the thing is, I felt like I didn't have as much to lose, back when I was alone. And then, I mean, you... you changed my life. And I needed you so much more than I thought. But I'm not just me anymore. I'm not alone. Because you're a part of me. You're my partner. And I never wanted to say this but I'm scared that you're going to decide— like, that you don't want me anymore. I'm scared that I'm gonna lose you. Because things keep getting worse. Because as soon as I thought everything was okay you disappeared again. And I am so fucking mad that you did that to me. Because I thought that I meant nothing to you. And I am so fucking sick of feeling like nothing."

Tears slid down Dallon's cheeks suddenly and Brendon startled, not expecting it because he thought he was going to get mad, scream, break things off because it was easier that way. Everything would be easier if this ended. They both had to know that. But Brendon didn’t know if that was what he wanted. If it was too contradictory or if it would solve more than it would hurt.

"I know. It’s just... it’s so much easier to do what you feel like you need to do when you don’t have anyone else to worry about.”

“But that doesn’t make it okay.” He retorted, but tried to promise himself he wouldn’t snap because he didn’t want any wars. He just wanted to know what the right thing to do was. He just wanted Dallon to make all the choices because that was what he did best. “Doing what you feel you need to do regardless of what the people you care about want. It fucking sucks, you know? It sucks knowing that in the end, you’re not always gonna put me first.”

“And I’m sorry that that’s the way it is, but I can’t change that! I can’t change the way I am.”

“But it just makes it seem like you don’t care about me.”

“I do care about you. But I don't let myself become attached to people, Brendon. You can’t resent me for being terrified of this. Caring for someone else. I don’t know how to do this.” He gestured between them fervently like they weren’t what they were. Like they weren’t something groundbreaking. “You’re not the only one who has trouble with people. With everyone. Because I'm scared that I'm gonna lose them and then... I don't know. I'm scared of losing people too. And I'm not scared of people, I'm not you, but I know that sometimes we clash. I know. And that scares me. I'm scared that I'm gonna lose you too. That I'm gonna fuck up and you're gonna leave. Because all I've been doing since the day he died is fucking up." He cried. "And I don't know what to do. I'm trying, Brendon, I'm trying so fucking hard."

Brendon wiped at his own cheeks, letting out a shuddering breath; he wanted to get it, but it was hard coming from the one he’d hurt. It was hard trying to see where he was coming from when everything was so gray. "I know."

"And I know that it's not fair to you, me not being here. I know in the past two months I've literally been the worst fucking boyfriend, and I'm giving you so many fucking reasons to leave me, but I can't-" He paused, covering his mouth with his hand when he let out a constricted sob. "I can't keep apologizing because I don't know what else to do."

"No, Dal. You're not..." Tears burned in the back of his throat. "You're not a bad boyfriend. You're just going through a lot. And I'm not so horrible that I'm not gonna give you your space for that, and I don't want to be clingy, but every time I don't hear from you I freak out because I think that you're leaving and I can't deal with people leaving, Dallon."

"Me neither, and I don't know what else to say to you." He shook his head like he was giving up, but he couldn't. "I was scared that if I didn't leave then I was just gonna take all my anger out on you again. And I can't do that anymore, Brendon, because I know I didn't say it but I saw how fucking scared of me you were. I never want you to be scared of me."

Remnants of a cigarette burn flashed in his mind as he heard it. The sound of Dallon's voice, admitting what he'd known all along. The sound of Dallon's voice echoing down an empty road as he put a dent in his car because he hated the world so damn much. "I'm not," Brendon whispered with hesitance.

"Brendon." He cried in exasperation, turning his head to meet his eyes. And as tears slid down his cheeks torturously, Brendon couldn't shy away. "I know you. You can't lie to me. Tell me the truth."

Brendon knew he couldn't keep lying. He'd been brutally honest and that didn't work out well for them, but nothing was filtered in this car anymore. This was where everything happened. This was where Brendon found it in him to tell the truth. Where he realized that when it came down to it, they couldn’t keep lying to each other. Bottom lip trembling and tears pooling in his eyes, he admitted in a whisper, "I don't know who you are sometimes."

Dallon let his head fall back against the seat, eyes closed and hands shaking. Brendon bristled away, leaned against the door and covered his mouth. He never meant to say it, but he was sick of holding things in. "I, um. I was in like, third grade, the first time I really had this concept of pain."

Brendon sniffled, furrowing messy brows in confusion. "What?"

"I was in third grade," Dallon repeated, a distant look in his eye. Like he was trying to save a sinking ship, but it was already underwater. "And I was sitting at home, it may have been my old place, I don't know for sure, but I was sitting at home and there was this tiny knock at my door. And I remember thinking that it had to have been a mouse or something, I just..." He let out a weak laugh. "It was ridiculously quiet. And my dad answered it. And Ryan came in with this huge fucking gash on his arm, Bren, it was literally dripping with blood."

Brendon covered his mouth, thinking back to the tales of a vespine childhood as told by the boy in a dimly lit room. Broken bottles, broken arms. "Oh, my God."

"And that was probably the third or fourth time he had come to me. And I was like, eight. I didn't know what to do. But this was different. Because the first few times, he just hit him. And then my best friend was showing up at my door, and he had to explain to my dad for the first time that his own father was hurting him. And he didn't understand why, and I didn't either. We were kids, you know? And my dad explained to me that sometimes people did things to hurt other people. That, I think, was the first time I really learned about that concept. People hurting others. It was hard to grasp, kind of, because I lived in this sheltered little world where things like that didn't happen. My parents loved each other and me. But Ryan was different. And that day was the day I promised him and my dad and myself that I would never intentionally hurt somebody. That I would never do something so damaging. I made a vow."

Brendon wiped his cheeks again, watching the way tears glistened on Dallon's own pale ones, disappointment clear in his eyes because he never grew into who he wanted to be. Brendon didn't know what to say. "Oh."

"So once after my dad died and I was acting out, Ryan and I got in this fight. Like, a really big fight. I don't remember exactly when. But he told me that I didn't think of anyone but myself, and that I was hurting people. Like his dad did. And, um." He looked down at his thighs regretfully. "I told myself when I started junior year that I wouldn't be that person again. Because I apologized, and I know apologies aren’t worth anything but I really apologized. Tried to make it up every day. Because I knew that I had been hurting everyone but I wouldn't stop. I couldn't. Because he was right, and I only thought about myself. And he laughed when I apologized every day for months, he thought my perseverance was funny. And I apologized to Josh too, for having to be so patient for years, and I apologized to my mom, and my dad, and I went to church and I apologized to God because I... I made a lot of mistakes, Brendon. And I promised myself and Him and everybody that I wouldn't go back there."

Tears slid down nacreous cheeks as he felt a mountain shrink between them, still too steep to climb. "And..."

"And I did. Go back there, I mean. I never wanted to.” He paused, stretching his arms, his hands against his knees. “But I did. Because I never really took into account how anything would make you feel. Because I burned myself in front of you, and I didn't bother telling you that I would be at the hospital for the weekend, and I didn't tell you where I went when I ran away. And because I didn't tell you so much about me when we became friends. Because I still don’t. And that's why for years I never spoke to you, I never had the guts to talk to you or ask you out because I knew I would fuck it up. Because I'm ashamed of who I am, Brendon. I'm ashamed of my past. And you've been open with me and I've abused that, and I'm sorry. Because I like that you think highly of me. And I'm scared that if you knew who I used to be, who I still am and who I try to hide, then you would see me differently. And you don't know how nice it is to have somebody who didn't know me during all of that."

"Dallon, I could never see you differently," Brendon swore it, crossed his heart, hoped to die, stuck needles in his eyes because he would rather not see the way Dallon's hands shook as he tried to stitch himself back up. "Listen to me. I will never judge you for who you used to be. And I will never judge you for the parts of you that you don't like and can't get rid of. I don’t want to evaluate and analyze you. I wanna know you. I wanna know how to take care of you too. I’m not mad at who you are. I’m mad that you want to hide that from me. Not mad. Upset. I just... I just hate that you feel like you can't be honest with me."

"I want to be. It's just... hard, Brendon." He sighed, and Brendon met his eyes again as Dallon leaned back against his seat. "You weren't there when it happened but after my father died... I wasn't okay. I was hurting myself and writing suicide notes to hide in my drawer, I was shutting out everyone because I was so fucking scared. I'm always scared. And I know I don't always show it because I have to be the person everyone needs me to be. I need to have myself together and take care of people. I just do."

But where was the line between taking care of others and taking care of himself? Because Brendon couldn't see it anymore, where Dallon had smudged his morals of protecting the people he loved. If he wasn't protecting him, then what was the point? All those suicide notes and no one to address them to, in Dallon's eyes through the looking glass of brighter than white lies and truths he swore he'd never tell. Who was he sending them out to? Did he still think people didn't care? "You don't have to have it all together all the time, Dallon." He whispered breathlessly. "And you don't have to take care of anybody."

"Yes I do, Brendon." He snapped, and Brendon had never realized he felt that way. "And I'm not belittling you because you don't understand, but I need you to know that this is something we differ in. It's not just some heteronormative man of the house thing, it's just... I am such a fucking disappointment. And I could tell you all of the shit that I put my mom and my friends through for two years, but that's a long time to make mistakes. And it's all the same now. I was a disappointment to my mom, and to Ryan and Josh, and probably my father. I still am. And now I'm a disappointment to you, too."

Brendon shook his head slowly, horrified that Dallon would even say it. Dallon was brilliant. He was intelligent and kind and creative and his bravura was shocking, sometimes. And to hear him say those things about himself, Brendon wouldn't even listen anymore. "You are not a disappointment, Dallon. Just because you did something wrong doesn't make you a disappointment. It’s just your actions that are disappointing. Not you. And I can't believe you think that about yourself."

"You can't say you don't either, Brendon." Dallon choked out, and it sounded threatening. Lachrymose. Like Dallon had it all figured out and Brendon had been torn out of his hiding place and the truth had been stolen from behind his teeth without his permission. But it wasn't true, it wasn't... "You can barely look me in the eye."

"I'm not..." Brendon huffed, frustrated because he just didn't know how to say it. "I don't think you're a disappointment. But I am fucking disappointed because I expected more of you, okay?!" He snapped, and blue eyes were wide like a deer in the headlights when Brendon dared to look. "I want this relationship to mean something to both of us and this can't be a one way street, Dallon, I need you to love me the way I love you!”

"I do!"

"Then you need to act like it!" Brendon cried, and Dallon looked away, down at his lap and his shaking hands. "Because you aren't acting like it." He whispered, his throat closing around a sob, tilting his head back against the seat and watching tears slide down his cheeks. "I don't wanna have to give you an ultimatum. I don't wanna be that kind of boyfriend. But... this isn't working, Dallon."

Dallon shook his head slowly like he had been expecting it, but even precedent didn't make it any easier. He was quiet for a second, breathing incongruent, and he tilted his head back and closed his eyes like he was praying. Brendon dared to look, watched his throat move when he swallowed thickly, watched perfect lips exhale in a sigh. "I can't fight anymore, Brendon. I'm exhausted."

Brendon covered his face with his hands, shaking his head in distress and wiping tears away like dirt. "What are we gonna do?" He asked, voice broken, muffled by his hands because he didn't want to see Dallon right now.

"I don't know." He shook his head too, brushing hair off his forehead and staring straight ahead unseeingly. Those eyes had seen so many things that Brendon couldn't imagine, didn't want to imagine. Now they were seeing things Brendon couldn't bear to see too. "I don't know. Should we break up?"

Brendon's breathing hitched and tears slipped down his cheeks. Anxiety lined his veins, flooded his bloodstream and left his hands shaking again. This wasn't what he asked for. He never wanted this. To make this... decision. This stupid fucking decision that had been haunting him for days. "Break up?"

Dallon nodded slowly, avoiding Brendon's gaze because if he saw his eyes then there would be no way he could do this. "I mean, we have two options." He said steadily though they both knew it was a facade, placing hands on his thighs to keep them from trembling. "We can either work at this, Brendon, or we can call it off."

Brendon sniffled, looking down at his lap. Hair fell in his eyes and he shook his head, could see Dallon look at him out of the corner of his eye. Could he just let all of this bleed away like it had never happened? He and Dallon had built something so beautiful, so soft, and to let it end felt like a failure. Like everything was for naught. He didn't want to give up so easily. "I don't know what I want." He admitted, quiet enough to sound like a confession. A confession with a gravity he wasn't completely set with two feet solid in, yet.

"I don't either." Dallon pushed his hands through his hair, staring down at his knees like this were a distorted nightmare and he was trying to make sense of it all in comatose. "God. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I've done, and for not being emotionally available for you sometimes, and I'm sorry for scaring you. I'm sorry that you don't know me."

Brendon shook his head, reaching out to take his hand carefully over the middle console. They were frayed at the edges, but they were still them. "I do know you, Dallon. I know a lot about you. It's just scary for me to think that there are things about you that I don't know. Because you know how I feel about change. What happened during our fight was such a big change for me, and I didn't know what to do. I still don't." His eyes flickered down toward their hands, where they stuck. "I'm scared of people because of what they're capable of. I was scared of you that night because it felt like you weren't you. I was scared that you weren't who I thought I was. I was scared of a Dallon that I didn't know."

Dallon tilted his head against the seat, smiling sadly like he realized then that this was irreparable. "We're the same person, Bren."

Brendon smiled back, fearing that this was the end. But he didn't want that. He just wanted to be honest. Tyler had told him to figure things out, think of what to say to Dallon, try and tell the truth because without honesty, they wouldn't survive. They just needed to talk. Somewhere along the way, Brendon just kind of forgot how. "I know. And I don't know how to explain it, exactly. I don't know. It just made me think that maybe there's something wrong with us if I'm, y'know..."

"Scared?" Reluctantly, Brendon nodded. "Yeah, I know. And that's a problem that we probably need to talk about. So, um." He thumbed his hand gently. "My depression isn't caused by my dad dying. Depression isn't just caused by something. I had it all my life, it's genetic. But my dad dying was a trigger. And over the course of the year after he died, I kind of figured out that when I'm in a really bad place mentally, then I can be really unstable. At that point I had also stopped taking my meds for a while because I hated them, and that made things worse. I was so fucking stupid, Brendon, and I know that now. It was stupid." He sighed, ashamed in himself. "Lately I've been in a really bad place, which is why I've been acting the way that I have. I resort to my old coping mechanisms when I don't know what else to do. When I feel out of control. Right now, I just feel so fucking out of control."

It made sense, in a way. Because everyone just wanted a little bit of control. Brendon sorted things into boxes and Dallon acted out, did the only thing he knew how to do. Brendon just didn't know where else to look for reasons, because Dallon was on his last breath. He was trying. Brendon was too. "I know."

"I know you do. And I’ve always coped in detrimental ways. My dad died suddenly and I never had the time to prepare. I never had the time to learn how to make my peace with it. And I know that before I really met you I was a different person, and I'm not that careless or inconsiderate now, but it's my internal instinct. To protect myself when I'm hurt." He sniffled. "You said that you don't know who I am sometimes, Brendon, but that's because in a way, we just met. We met a year ago. And the honest truth is that it's gonna take some time for you to see all of me. Just like it's gonna take time for me to see all of you. And I'm willing to try and let you in if you do the same, okay?"

Brendon nodded, wiping his cheeks. He knew, because telling everybody but Dallon how he felt was doing him no good. He just needed to prioritize them. He hadn't been doing that. He looked at him, at the moonlight reflecting on the slope of his cheek, and things like this took work. They both just had to be willing. "Yeah. Okay."

"Okay." He outstretched his fingers in between Brendon's, examining the way they fit together. "Look. I was hurt. I am hurt. And I know you are too and right now I'm praying that this isn't you gearing up to break up with me, but I make mistakes, Brendon. I always have. It's just that now you know about it. And one day I'll tell you about my past. One day when you and I are stable, when I'm not so scared of losing you because I know that you're mine forever. When you and I are okay again, maybe. Because I want you to know all of me, I want you to know about the rollerblades and how I came out to my friends in the middle of the desert and how I started rebelling after my dad died. I want you to know every part of me, even when they're not good. But my coping mechanisms are a part of me too. And I will never be able to promise you that I'm not gonna be an idiot sometimes. But I trust you, Brendon, and that is so fucking terrifying. Because I don't think I've ever trusted anybody this much."

Brendon's heart was pounding, trying to make sense of this all. The truth was he didn't know what trust was until Dallon had taught him. He spent a lifetime hiding himself away only to open up at the first exchanged smile, the first project done, the first arts and craft session in a tiny little rec center. Awkward first kisses and first dates, second dates, third dates. Under the stars in the middle of a cold February, under the catwalk on a stage where lights shone bright and a boy's smile shone brighter. Holding hands across a table. Making hushed promises, confessions hidden under nightlife moods, riant laughter in the motion of the ocean when the sun was rising in a world he had only just been introduced to. Brendon trusted Dallon too, a lot more than he knew.

And it really was terrifying.

"I trust you too, you know." He whispered, searching Dallon's eyes though everything was already out in the open. "If I didn't I would have broken up with you every time there was a challenge. Like when you didn't answer my calls after the fight. And I was scared, Dal, I was scared that I didn't know you. I’m not gonna lie. I was scared because you're my best friend and the thought of you not being open with me hurt, and because I knew that you were in pain and I couldn't help, and because you were mad at me and I made you cry and I'm never gonna forgive myself for that, I think. I'm always gonna be worried that I'm making mistakes. I think that's the thing about us. We keep fucking up because we don't know how not to."

Dallon smiled, and maybe they weren't quite doomed yet. Maybe they had just gotten a little lost in translation. "I think you're right."

"And I think that maybe we've been hiding from each other for way too long." He reached up to push his thumb against his Dallon's cheek, stained with tears. "Can we stop hiding, please?"

"Yeah." Dallon sat up and sniffled as he put a hand out in front of him, seal it with a handshake. But Brendon shook his head and reached out to wrap his arms around Dallon's neck, burying his face in his shoulder. "Yeah, let's stop hiding. I'm gonna take you home, okay? It's late and cold and I feel like I may be overstaying my welcome with you."

"You're never overstaying your welcome." Brendon pulled back and smiled warmly, or tried, or hoped he did because he didn’t want to feel so cold anymore. "The bunk beds are still an offer. If you really wanna get away from home."

"I'm keeping that in mind, Urie, don't assume I'm not." He said, smiling weakly. "Um. I think we need to... like, ease back into us. This has been so much and I feel like we might need to get back into the swing of things. Try to find comfort in us again. If that's okay. Take it slow.”

"Yeah. I think... um, I think that's a good idea."

"Okay. Lemme take you home. Strap in." He nodded his head toward his seatbelt, and Brendon went to pull it on.

Brendon sat quietly in the passenger seat, picking at his nailbeds while Dallon twisted the heat up and started on the road home. They didn't talk, but they didn't have to, because everything had been said. Brendon didn't know what else to touch upon, but that was okay. He and Dallon would learn. He would learn. He leaned his head back against the seat, reaching out to put a hand on Dallon's thigh. Things would be better. Dallon turned to smile at him, placed his hand on top of Brendon's.

As the streetlight in front of the closed diner flickered, Dallon climbed out with Brendon to walk him to the door. Across a single sidewalk square, a few feet from the car, but Dallon just wanted to make sure. Brendon pulled his keys out of his jacket pocket, started to fumble with them, but Dallon reached out to put a hand on his waist, making him pause all motions to look up and meet his eyes.

"Hey. In the past three and a half years, you are the best thing that has happened to me. If I do anything to fuck this up, please tell me. I want to learn how to fix whatever makes this wrong.”

Brendon nodded, but the thing was he knew Dallon wouldn't fuck it up. Because he knew Dallon. Maybe not as well as he would like, but time was on their side. He swore it. "Same to you."

"Mhm." Dallon agreed right before he linked his pinky with Brendon's tightly. "Listen, Bren. Under any circumstances, I'm gonna be by your side. I'm gonna have your back, I'm gonna be here for you to fall back on, I'm gonna support you when you need it. We're a team, okay? Let's be on the same side."

Brendon pulled him into another hug, pinkies still linked as he nodded against his shoulder. He wanted Dallon on his side, because they worked together and he didn't ever want it any other way. Brendon never had been one to forgive and forget, but Dallon was different. Dallon was the one he told to forgive the world to let himself feel again. He couldn’t not listen to his own advice.

He'd love to be on the same side. "Yeah."

"Okay. Now get inside, it's cold out here." Dallon took the keys from Brendon's hand to stick them in the lock, and Brendon gave him a sweet smile as Dallon placed them back in his palm and held the door open for him. Brendon thanked him, said goodbye, but Dallon whispered his name as he turned away. He turned back, brown eyes wide, and Dallon said, "Things are gonna be better."

Brendon nodded, because he felt like they had reached some common ground. At least he hoped they did. "I know." He said, and they exchanged warm smiles before Brendon escaped upstairs into the warmth of his house. He stood against the closed door and sighed, finally feeling like maybe there was something he could try and understand.


	31. Chapter 30: Cascading Failures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW drugging and drinking!!!

As October neared its end Dallon was walking on thin ice and Brendon didn’t realize it, but he was too. Being too careful around each other. That happened very rarely, as Brendon was comfortable around him, and always had been. But talking had helped, let him get a lot off his chest because he’d been holding it in for weeks and he hadn’t even realized. He and Dallon had been hiding from each other for a while now.

But things would be different. Because Dallon knew what Brendon never wanted him to, because brutal honesty had to work this time around. It felt like couples’ therapy in the front seat of his car. Truths had been told, secrets had been admitted, sins had been confessed. Dallon wasn't scary. He wasn't somebody to worry about, he wasn't someone Brendon didn't know. He was just broken, he just had questionable ways to cope. But they made promises to each other they meant to keep, all while tearing open their chests to show each other their borrowed hearts, all bloody and stitched up but still beating. He wanted to be wary after all that.

They swore things were fine, apologized over and over for so many different wars that Brendon was starting to lose track of. Dallon cried in the driver's seat as he told Brendon just how fucked up his past was, and Brendon cried because he had no idea. Because he wasn't just scared that he didn't know Dallon well, he was scared that the reason for that was because Dallon hated who he was so viscerally that he wanted to distance Brendon from the parts of him that could hurt. And Dallon, after everything, was still worried that he had fucked everything up.

“Hey, we’re okay, right?” Dallon asked quietly one day at the end of the week as he matched Brendon’s pace in the hallway on his way to his next class. Brendon nodded, didn’t even have to think about it, and laced his fingers with his boyfriend’s right there in the middle of the hall.

“Yeah, we’re okay.” He promised.

“Okay. Then I’ll see you in English, bumblebee.” Dallon leaned down to kiss his temple and Brendon let him go, turning to watch him and smiling as he ducked into his classroom.

Things had to get better. They had to.

Dallon was waiting outside their English classroom when Brendon got there a few blocks later, leaning against the wall and smiling sinuously as Brendon approached him. “What are you doing?” He asked, not expecting to talk to him until after class.

“Waiting for you, Urie. C’mere.” He got his waist and pulled him close, and Brendon looked away awkwardly with a laugh but let him.

“This isn’t easing back into things.” Brendon smiled up at him, and Dallon wrapped both arms around his waist.

“Sure it is.” He whispered, catching his lips and making him blush because he wasn’t used to the PDA, but he reached up to hold his shoulders because after everything, it couldn’t hurt.

“Get a room,” Ryan said passively as he headed into the classroom, and Brendon giggled at the attention as Dallon tugged him by the waist to follow, not saying that they’d continue later though Brendon could see the look in his eye.

“Jealous?” Dallon teased.

“Of you, maybe.” He teased back, going to hook an arm around Brendon’s shoulders as they started toward their seats in the back of the room. Dallon scoffed playfully, and Brendon turned to grin at him over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows suggestively and going to set his bag down on the floor. “PDA is gross, Dallon.”

“Yeah, I know.” He agreed, but his eyes lingered on Brendon as he slid into his seat in the center of the room. “But I can’t help it sometimes.”

“Dork,” Brendon said under his breath, but smiled as he claimed his seat. Mr. McCracken greeted the students with a hello and as he instructed everyone to free write for a few minutes in their journals, Brendon busied himself in watching Ryan write and clicking his own pen aimlessly because his thoughts were too jumbled to get down on paper, anyway. “Hey, Ry? You know that girl’s party this weekend? The one for Halloween?” Without looking back at Brendon he nodded, and Brendon asked, “Are you gonna go?”

“No.” Ryan sat back, turning to look at a curious Brendon leaning forward on his desk. “High school parties are dumb, Brendon. It’s just a bunch of teenagers drinking and acting stupid. If I wanna drink and act stupid, I can do it without the entire senior class watching me. Not that I drink. Or act stupid.” Brendon half smiled, rubbed at his eyes tiredly. “Why do you ask? Are you thinking of going?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, resting his elbows on the desk. “I just wanna do something fun. I feel like for weeks I’ve been stressed about all these stupid things and Dallon and I have been fighting and I just— I wanted my senior year to be great. It got off on the wrong foot. So I wanna have fun. I wanna have fun with him. I think we just... need to rekindle.”

Ryan snorted. “It looks a little like you’ve already rekindled.”

“Hey,” Brendon scoffed, but looked over to stare at his boyfriend’s back as he wrote smoothly in his journal. “No, I don’t know. He’s trying. So am I. We just— we’ve been distant for so long. I need to get out of my head.”

“I get it. And you should. Dallon should too. He’s literally allergic to fun.” Brendon laughed, he couldn’t help it, and Ryan added, “I’m serious, the idiot never does anything fun. You’re good for him. Seriously. Take him to a party. He might actually smile. Who knows.” He folded his arms, and Brendon realized it may not even be a joke. “Just... watch it, Bren, okay? High school parties can be a lot. Especially when they’re your first one. Don’t drink too much. That shit can be dangerous. Especially for someone of your height and weight. And I don’t think Dallon should be drinking, or if he would even want to, but if he does make sure you call someone for a ride. Even if it’s me. I’ll borrow my mom’s car.”

“I’ll be okay, Ryan, I promise. Dallon barely wants to go in the first place so I don’t think he’s gonna drink. And if he does, and my siblings can’t pick me up, then I’ll call you.” He promised, linking his pinky with his because Ryan was serious about this kind of thing, always was. “So you said you don’t drink?”

“Nope. My dad was an alcoholic and I know I have the genes for it so I try to stay away from it. I don’t wanna drink until I’m twenty-one anyway. But I won’t judge you if you do it. I’ve dealt with Dal and Josh drinking, so-“

“Wait, Dallon?” He interrupted, lowering his voice, because he didn’t know that Dallon drank. He’d told him once he didn’t. “He drinks?”

“No, not usually. He hasn’t in a long time. He’s never gotten drunk, I don’t think, just... here and there, after everything that happened. It was him acting out. He knows better now.” He looked up at Dallon, still writing quickly like he just had too much to say. “Yeah, he knows better now. He’ll take good care of you this weekend.” He turned to look at Brendon, smiling. “As long as you’re with people you trust and you watch yourself, you should be fine. Don’t accept drinks from strangers, don't make stupid decisions you’ll regret when you’re sober, don’t leave your drink unattended, don’t get in a car drunk or with someone who’s drunk, blah blah blah. You’ve heard it all before.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it all before.” He said, it was the default advice, Kara had given him the lecture before that back to school party he went to when he was a freshman for a good hour before he made Tyler take him home. “Thanks.” He added and Ryan nodded, returning to his classwork as Brendon started to write something in his journal too.

He could drink if he wanted to. It was a high school party; everyone would be drinking. He wasn’t careless, wouldn’t let himself drink too much or do anything he would regret, and anyway, there was strength in numbers. Tyler and Josh and Dallon were gonna be there with him. He scribbled down his thoughts, mapping out a plan because he deserved it. A night without worry. After everything that had happened, he deserved it.

“I don’t know what to be,” Brendon complained, dragging his feet as he walked down the aisle with masks decorating the shelves, though nothing stood out to him. Dallon turned to look at him, carrying the shopping basket filled with a few things Brendon hadn’t even seen him grab, already having planned his costume because Brendon had mentioned the party weeks ago.

“Well, you should’ve planned ahead. It’s the day before Halloween, Bren. These things require precision and care.” Dallon reasoned wisely, grabbing a box off the shelf nearby and holding it up, costume makeup because for some reason he didn’t want to take his mom’s, before he tossed it into his basket.

“Tell me something I don’t know. What about you? What are you gonna be? I haven’t been paying attention.”

“I know, you’ve been busy complaining.” He punched his arm, meaning no harm, and picked a box out of his basket to show Brendon. “I’m gonna be a vampire! I’m getting these little fangs, and I’m gonna wear eyeliner, it’s gonna be great.”

“Just eyeliner? So what’s the makeup for?” Brendon asked, pointing at the makeup he’d grabbed as he set the teeth back down in the basket.

“For you. You’ve gotta do something. You’re dragging me to this party in the first place. I don’t like parties, Bren. I don’t even like people.”

“I think it’ll be fun. We need something like this right now.” He reached out to poke at Dallon’s side aimlessly. “Maybe I’ll be, like, a dead guy. I already have the personality for it. I’ll tear up an old shirt and I’ll ask my sisters to do my makeup for me. I should make an effort, right? I can’t be all lame like you were when you wore your admittedly very cute cat ears last year. I mean, nothing’s gonna top you with eyeliner on. Except me, if you’d let me.” He took his hand, swinging them in between them.

“The personality of a dead guy?” He asked and Brendon nodded, scanning the shelves with a cheeky smile though he was sure he could improvise with everything else. “Funny. Yes, Urie, you should make an effort. And we’ll see. We’re easing, remember?” He swung his hand back. “And I resent that! I went through like, half a dozen boxes before I found those stupid ears. I just did it because I was trying to make you fall in love with me.”

“Easing is no fun. And I was already in love with you. You smile at me and I melt.” He turned to grin at Dallon as they approached the register, holding his hand as far as he could until they broke apart. “We’re gonna have fun. And if you don’t, we can go home and watch something from the Movie List and we can talk. Or not talk. Whatever you wanna do. Let me pay.”

Before Dallon could refute Brendon got out his wallet, pulling out a ten dollar bill because what they were buying wasn’t much. Dallon reached out to place a hand on his shoulder as a thank you, not saying it because the words were always lost on him, and Brendon got it, never made him say it, took his hand again as they headed out toward Dallon’s car. They would have fun. Brendon would make sure of it. Because he had to remember what it was like to have fun with Dallon before it was too late.

Ty: the house is on avenue k off of mexico st!! meet us there at nine you’ll see all the cars out front

Brendon smiled at his screen as he stretched on Sunday morning, inexplicably excited because he had never been to a high school party, save for the one his first week of high school though things were different then. He didn’t have a boyfriend. He was scared. Now, well, he was still scared, of the people and the drinking and the loud music, but there was unmistakable excitement buzzing in his veins as he got up to brush his teeth.

He trotted down the spiral staircase and overheard the chatter of his family as they decorated the diner, closed until four when the neighborhood flooded in before trick or treating. “Morning, keiki!” His mom greeted, turning to grin at him from where she was hanging fake spiderwebs above the soda machine.

“Hey, Brendon, catch!” Mason whipped a handful of fake spiders at him and Brendon dodged them, slipping behind the counter and pouting at his oldest brother.

“Stop!” He whined, and his mom wrapped her arms around him because she couldn’t help it when he looked the way that he did. He hugged her back, grateful she was being so lenient with letting him go to a party on a school night, and then moved past his mom to grab a glass and fill it with ice. “Hey, I don’t have to work today, right?”

“No. And you don’t need soda right now, Brendon, stop. You’ll have enough candy today. That’s way too much sugar.” His mom berated as he filled his glass with Coke, but he took a sip and only smiled when she sighed.

“It’s like, noon. And sugar on Halloween doesn’t count. Everybody knows that.”

“You still haven’t had breakfast.” She went to swat at him as he escaped from behind the counter, instead going to observe all the decorations already hung on the walls. They outdid themselves every year, Mason always picked up a few new things at the Halloween store, and Brendon went to snatch a piece of chocolate from the candy bowl before she could protest. “What time are you leaving?”

“Dallon’s gonna pick me up a little after eight thirty. We’re meeting Tyler and Josh at nine. I have to shower and do my makeup to look more dead than I already am and paint my nails, though, and it might take a little while. I’m gonna paint them black. Y’know, to be spooky.” He wiggled his fingers before peeling open the chocolate and ignoring his mother’s look of dissent because she hated when he had too much sugar. “And I’m gonna stay at Dallon’s after, if it’s okay. I have clothes there; I’ll just shower off the makeup after the party and then be back home after school tomorrow.”

“It’s fine. Just try not to stay out too late, okay? It is still a school night, after all.” His mom leaned over the counter and Brendon nodded, though he wasn’t really sure what was on the agenda for the night. He didn’t know how high school parties worked, or if a costume party was different, or if they would even stay that long because Dallon wasn’t as excited as Brendon to be going.

“Yeah, no, of course. I’ll make sure to let you know what goes on. How late I stay and if I end up going back to Dallon’s early.” He chewed on his straw, leaning against the counter. “He doesn’t really like parties so we probably won’t stay the whole time. Just a little while.”

“Okay. Just be safe. Be smart.” She said, and he would, he promised, nodded to confirm it. They had only said yes to begin with because they knew it was a big deal for Brendon to want to try and thrive in an environment with people his age, from his school. To try and find some common ground with the people he saw every day. Besides, he had the perfect plan, to meet up with his friends, dance, drink a little, and sleep off whatever alcohol he had in his system in Dallon’s bed before school the next day. It was a perfect plan. Nothing could go wrong.

“I will, mama.”

“Okay. I trust you, Bren. I just want you to be wary. Keep an eye on your drink and your friends. Don’t stray from them, don’t get peer pressured, and don’t do any drugs. I know there will be alcohol, and I will not punish you for drinking so long as you do it safely but you need to set limits, got it?”

“He’s got it, mama, relax!” Kyla laughed, going to pat her baby brother on the shoulder. “He’ll be fine. He knows what and what not to do.”

“I just worry about you kids. Especially with everything...” She trailed off, not wanting to say that she worried most about her son who was scared of everything though that was what she meant.

“I’ll be okay. Dallon and Tyler and Josh will watch me all night. Dallon’s protective of me. You’ve seen him.”

“I’ve seen him.” She forced a smile, and then circled the counter to pull him into a hug because she couldn’t help it, it felt like a milestone. He laughed, he knew he was going to be fine, and she sighed at his blind optimism and naivety because Brendon never knew what he was getting himself into. He just wanted to be hopeful. “And if anyone tries anything-“

“I’ll have Dallon kill them.” He promised, only half joking, and she managed a laugh because he promised he would be safe.

Brendon smiled at the wall of the shower as he washed his hair that afternoon, scrubbing his skin with strawberry body wash. Maybe he was naive, maybe it was because he was still sheltered, but it wasn’t like he’d never been out of the house.

He brushed through his hair and let Kyla blow dry it straight while she and Kara painted his nails and did his makeup as a team. He found one of his brother’s old white tee shirts to tear up and splatter fake blood on, luckily Mason had some for the decorations as Dallon didn’t pick up any on their trip to the Halloween store, and Brendon looked at himself in the mirror for a long few minutes while he waited for Dallon to pick him up as he tried to convince himself that it would be a good night. It had to be.

He wanted it to be memorable. He wanted to make an impression. He didn’t want to be the Brendon Urie everyone knew him as. He wanted to reinvent himself tonight.

“Hey, comrade.” Dallon greeted from where he was leaning against a table, wearing all black and smiling warmly when Brendon went to pull him into a hug. “You look great. That shirt is like a dress on you.” He added with a laugh, taking his hand to spin him around before Brendon went to kiss his cheek. “I like the makeup, too. Careful, I might bite ya.”

“I’m not opposed to that. And thanks! Kyla did it. It looks good, right? Realistic. The shirt was my brother’s. I got innovative.” He grinned, pointing at the gash she had finessed on his cheek and the dark makeup under his eyes, the blood on his eyebrow where there was a scar already and the fake blood dripping down his neck because he had gone a little crazy with it, having too much fun to stop. “You look good too, handsome. I love the eyeliner.”

“Oh, thanks. I was wondering if this might be overdoing it.” He said, but his eyes lined with black weren’t nearly as over the top as what Brendon’s sister had managed to do to him.

“Not at all. It looks great. You should wear eyeliner more often.” He tugged at the neckline of Dallon’s black sweater. “You wanna get going? We’re meeting them at nine.”

“Sure.” Dallon pat his side and Brendon went to tell his parents that he was leaving, letting them take a few photos before he dragged Dallon out, only partly embarrassed because he knew what his family was like.

Cars flooded the street as Dallon parked a few cars down, and a two-story house blared music through the open doors as people came and went. Brendon hung his head out the window, scoping out the other partygoers like a giddy freshman going to the party of the year, trying to figure out how to act because he hadn’t really ever done this before. He just wanted to fit in.

“Baby Urie!” Tyler greeted as he and Dallon headed across the lawn together, crossing a cluster of girls in shorts and animal ears and only a few people in more intricate costumes. “Look at you!” He took Brendon’s hands, spinning him around playfully. “You look fabulous!”

“So do you!” He pulled away and gestured to the glowing skeleton costume he had made to match his boyfriend’s, smiling because it really did look nice. Josh pat Dallon’s back in a hello and Dallon smiled back, trying to want to be there, and Brendon went to take his hand because they were here together, trying to reconcile. “Have you guys gone in yet?”

“We were waiting for you guys.” Josh cut in, leading them up the slope of the front yard where music was thumping behind the walls and the senior class was ready to give Brendon a night that would shape his year. “You look good, Brendon.”

“Thank you!” He laughed modestly, unused to the attention. It was just a last minute idea, after all. “You do too. I love your hair. Black looks really good on you.”

“Doesn’t it?!” Tyler agreed, reaching out to mess up his hair like a child. Josh smiled at him, never one to be short tempered, and only rolled his eyes when Tyler laughed and turned to head up the stairs.

“He’s s’cute and handsome!” Dallon chimed playfully, patting Josh’s back and following Tyler up the stairs and into the darkened foyer.

Brendon squinted in the darkness and the sound of music flooded the room like a wave, louder than he’d expected but just as welcoming. He took Dallon’s hand again, lost somewhere in the midst of it all, and Dallon turned to look at him, checking if he was okay. And he was, he was just shocked, was all, not expecting it to be quite like this, so overwhelming.

He followed Dallon into the living room as he trailed behind Tyler and Josh, letting him pull him wherever because he had never been here before, as he knew the host from a class but never really talked to her. “It’s loud.” He said blatantly to no one, feeling a little stupid after he’d said it, but Dallon nodded and then again, he always made him feel heard.

His eyes wandered, trying to pinpoint something to fixate on for a minute before he caught sight of Melanie dancing with a few friends in one corner of the room. She met his eyes and grinned, breaking through the crowd to rush over and pull him into a hug. He dropped Dallon’s hand to hug her back, not missing the way Dallon turned again to make sure he was okay. “Brendon!” She squealed. “Brendon, hi, honey. I wasn’t expecting you. You look adorable. It’s so good to see you!”

“Adorable wasn’t what I was going for, but thanks. It’s good to see you too.” He laughed, playing with the hem of his shirt and suddenly feeling self-conscious. She was dressed up as a doll, wearing a skirt and a blouse with her hair in pigtails and blush painted cheeks, and he wished he had come up with something just as creative and not so... last minute. “Are you... uh, are you drunk?”

“A tiny bit.” She pinched her thumb and index finger together and squinted, and yeah, it was more than a tiny bit. “They have such good drinks here. Like, everything drinks. You ever drink?” Brendon shook his head, half smiling awkwardly because it couldn’t be more obvious that he was out of his element here. “I don’t usually, but it’s a party. My friends made me come.”

“Yeah, um, I was thinking about it.” Brendon scratched the back of his neck and looked to his right to find Dallon engaged in a conversation with a couple of people Brendon knew from their English class. He gave it a second thought and nodded, turning back to look at her and deciding that there was no harm in one drink. It was a party. “Yeah. I’m gonna go get a drink now, actually, any recommendations?”

She laughed as if he had told a joke that he himself wasn’t in on. “You don’t drink for the taste, Brendon, you drink for the fun of it.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and excused herself to return to dancing with her friends with a half shouted, “Have fun!”

“You too.” He called, and began to make his way through the crowd of costumed bodies to find his way back to Dallon, caught in a crowd of people drinking and talking and laughing over something Brendon didn’t quite catch. Brendon tugged on Dallon’s sweater sleeve to get his attention, politely smiling at the people in the circle, and Dallon excused himself from the conversation as they parted from the crowd together. “Hi. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He licked his thumb and swiped it gently across Brendon’s cheek. “Lipstick. You cheatin’ on me, Urie?”

Brendon giggled, tracing the spot Dallon touched with his own thumb and then going to grab ahold of his sleeve again. “It’s just Melanie. C’mon, let’s go get a drink.” He tugged on his arm like a child leading their parent down the candy aisle.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Dallon asked, overprotective within good reason, but Brendon tugged him through their dancing peers without looking back because of course it was a good idea. It was a party. There were kegs set up in the kitchen and a cardboard box of bottles on the counter, and Dallon was hesitant as Brendon led him toward them. “Brendon.” He added, and only then did Brendon stop to look at him.

“I won’t drink more than one. It’s the Halloween of my senior year, Dal, I’ve had a difficult couple of weeks. I think I deserve to drink one cup of beer.” He gestured with his free hand at the drinks, and went to grab a red plastic cup from the stack of clean ones before Dallon could protest.

A boy with a snapback offered to fill Brendon’s cup and he nodded, grinning childishly, and Dallon sighed, “I know, and you do deserve it, but that doesn’t make it a good idea. Tomorrow is a school day, your parents want you to be extra careful, and you’ve never even drank before.”

“And you have,” Brendon retorted, turning to look at him with a daring eyebrow raised, and some beer spilled over the filled rim of the cup and onto his fingers. “Ryan told me. And I was wondering why you didn’t.”

“Because I drank a few sips of alcohol here and there before we were even friends and I didn’t think that that, out of everything, was a relevant thing to tell you. Don’t make everything into an argument. I’m not trying to fight with you.”

Brendon sighed, he knew this wasn’t all one sided, knew he had to make an effort not to do what he always did. “Okay. I’m sorry.” He apologized, but Dallon looked reluctant. “I’m sorry, Dallon, I love you and I don’t wanna fight. I’m just... I don’t want you to look over my shoulder like everything I do is gonna get me in some trouble. It’s sweet to want to protect me but I’m a big boy now, I can handle a drink. Just one drink. Just one and I will never ever drag you to another party ever again. Ever. Just one.” He begged, contrary to his arguing that he could make the decision for himself, and Dallon was stoic for a second before he rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to his forehead in compliance. “Yay. I love you. Are you gonna have anything?”

“No. One of us is gonna have to be responsible. I’m driving tonight. And I can't really drink on my meds, and, y'know. I don't wanna.” Dallon shrugged, and Brendon did too, because it was probably for the best. He didn’t know how he would handle his first drink and Dallon liked to be the one in control, anyway. The boy at the keg offered Dallon a drink and he declined, placing a hand on Brendon’s back and guiding him out of the kitchen. “Hey, just be careful, okay?”

Brendon giggled. “I will, Dal.” He promised, and grinned up at him because he was actually having fun. Dallon forced a smile, Brendon knew his forced smiles, but he said nothing and took a sip of the beer instead. It was warm and bitter, leaving a strange taste on his tongue, and he tried not to make a face because he knew, you did it for the fun of it, not the taste, and he wanted to have fun, he would have fun.

“Okay.” Dallon sighed, kissing the top of his head like a display of protection, and pulled him aside to stand by the wall. “What should we do now?”

Brendon shrugged. People moved in waves around them, bumping plastic cups together and laughing loudly and making out, Brendon had seen the movies but it didn’t seem like them at all in real life. As far as he could see there were no drugs, at least not in his central vision, and the only illegal thing that seemed to be going on was a little underage drinking. That was nothing he couldn’t handle. “I don't know. What do you do at high school parties?”

“You’re asking like I’ve been to one before.” Dallon laughed awkwardly, arms folded and eyes looking back and forth like this was the last place he wanted to be.

Three years and two months ago Brendon Urie and Dallon Weekes attended the same party, a back to school party thrown by an upperclassman. It was lowkey and there wasn’t a lot of alcohol, a few beers drank by the seniors and music that was a lot less loud. Mostly talking and dancing and games, actually. But it was nothing like this. Dallon had described Brendon as a pop of color in a dull room, looking like he didn’t belong, didn’t want to belong. And Brendon would describe Dallon in that way now, because he was standing there with his walls up, keeping the world at arm's length.

But Brendon swore that he’d make this a good night. A night to remember. A night that left him right where he wanted to be, in the midst of it all, learning right where he fit. “C’mon. Let’s go dance.” Brendon urged, and wrapped an arm around his neck to pull him further into the room. Dallon gave him a reluctant look, never one for dancing, but Brendon smiled, tried to charm him because Dallon was here for him. “C’mon!”

Brendon held his drink against his body as he danced along with his peers, finding Tyler and Josh in the crowd and greeting them with a laugh because they’d lost each other almost immediately. He hadn’t been expecting to have fun but he was smiling as he danced, pressed against several other bodies and not realizing it like he would if he hadn’t drank half his cup already. He'd realized that maybe Ryan was right, his alcohol tolerance couldn’t be high for someone so small, but Dallon was looking out for him and besides, that was just saving him time.

Song after song passed and Brendon started to get restless, searching for something else to do because he was sweaty and dancing got boring after a while. He pulled Dallon off to the side and toward one of the couches in the living room, guiding him to lay against the arm and not bothering to ask before he pulled him in for a kiss. Dallon sat forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, always respectful, but Brendon only shook his head needily when Dallon went to pull away.

People around them danced and sang and drank and laughed, and as time passed the party started to look more like the ones he had seen on TV. Maybe that was because he was buzzed or maybe it was just getting a little out of control as more people showed up, Brendon noticed when a girl pulled her top off in the kitchen and let some guys hold her up over the keg by her ankles. He looked away from her then, guilty and feeling as though he was invading her privacy, but maybe this was just how parties went. Maybe they just got a little out of control sometimes. Maybe he would too.

“Hi.” Brendon giggled when Dallon’s lips met his again, a warmth bubbling up in his stomach and the effervescence spreading a layer of happiness over him. Dallon was warm, warmer than usual, it must had been all the dancing. Brendon resisted the urge to slide his hand underneath his sweater to feel his skin.

Dallon slid a hand up his side, under his arm, and pulled away to hold him back. “Hi.” He gave a needy Brendon one more kiss. “Are you feeling okay?”

Brendon nodded vigorously, placing his hands on Dallon’s shoulders and smiling too hard at the blue eyes in front of him. Dallon was pretty. He was so pretty and Brendon was so happy. “I’m fine. I’m awesome. This is fun. We should do this more often!”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Dallon sat back and pat Brendon’s thigh, with no intention of actually wanting to do any of this again. Brendon smiled stupidly, not getting the message, whether it be the blur of alcohol or his usual obliviousness. He leaned in to kiss him again, already sick of talking, but Dallon placed a hand on his chest to stop him. “Look, uh. I don’t really feel comfortable doing this in front of everyone we know. Can it wait until tonight?”

Brendon nodded quickly, pushing himself up to sit. “Of course.” He assured him, guilty again because he hadn’t realized Dallon wasn’t in the same headspace as him right now. He would just have to make Dallon have a little more fun. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Dallon promised, though he seemed nervous, jittery, like he didn’t want to be there anymore. Or like he didn’t want to be there in the first place.

“Are you? Fine, I mean?” Brendon asked, inching closer but only to place a hand on his bouncing knee. He hadn’t realized how uncomfortable he was. After the past few weeks he should have been keeping an eye out. “We can go home if you want.”

“No, it’s alright. Maybe in a little while. It’s okay, have your fun.” He smiled at Brendon in what he hoped would convey assurance but only appeared forced. Brendon just really thought they would be on the same page about this. “Listen, I’m gonna go find Josh and see what he’s up to. You wanna come?”

Blurring out the hand extended to him, Brendon looked around at his dancing peers, and he wanted to explore. This felt like a rite of passage. The rest of the house was begging for him, calling to him, and he wanted to answer. “No, it’s okay. I’ll come find you in a few. I wanna see if I can find Ashley, she said she’d be here and I haven’t seen her. I wanna say hi. I might explore a little on my own too. I’m curious.”

“You always are.” Dallon stood up, smiling uneasily. “Okay. Stay safe, boy.” He held out a hand to help Brendon up.

“I will,” Brendon promised, and kissed his cheek before they parted ways, Dallon toward the kitchen and Brendon toward the entrance where he thought he saw a staircase. He passed a few people talking, dancing, kissing, and headed up the stairs to explore.

The girl who was hosting must had been wealthy, Brendon figured, as he noted the upstairs looked as big as the downstairs with a room that seemed to be another living room, and on the better side of town. He caught sight of a group of kids he didn’t recognize playing beer pong on the coffee table and a game of what looked like seven minutes in heaven, with people sitting on the ground in a circle, hearts beating with the adrenaline rush and smiling at the boys and girls around them, maybe hoping for someone special for the mouth of the bottle to land on.

Whether they answer a truth or dare or head off together in the direction of the narrow hallway closet while somebody else laughed and set a timer, they were exposing themselves, their little secrets and vulnerabilities. Tore their clothes off in closets and peered into each other’s souls, or maybe it wasn’t to them what it was to Brendon. Maybe to some people sex was just sex and kisses were just kisses and telling truths or doing dares were things that just got a laugh.

A girl stood and tugged on a boy’s arm, smiling devilishly. Some people were leaving happy tonight.

Brendon wandered around aimlessly, keeping to himself and hoping everybody else did too. He watched people laugh and grab at each other, grinding as they danced, worlds away from the boy in the middle of the hallway taking it all in. He turned away from the pair, catching sight of a wall of picture frames instead.

The girl in the photos didn’t look happy. She wasn’t smiling genuinely like her family on either side of her. She was staring at the camera in a pose where everything was staged, eyes empty in this way Brendon could see in a single glance. Not everybody could see that. Her parents couldn’t. They loved the photo so much they framed it. It wasn’t the truth.

Maybe she had thrown the party to try and escape. Maybe she just wanted to fit in too. Maybe she never did. Her friends were discussing the senior Halloween party. “My parents will be out of town,” she must had said. Got the attention of all the other girls, who called up their football playing friends to grab the kegs and decorations. The party of the year, everyone said. Wasn’t every party the party of the year?

Brendon continued aimlessly down the hall, feeling the alcohol in his system and wondering what made a party qualify as the party of the year, but stopped short when he saw Ashley in his peripheral vision, latched onto a girl with blonde hair he couldn’t recognize from the back. He squinted, not meaning to interrupt, and examined their animal ears though that was the only part of their attire that seemed like a costume.

Barely thinking straight, Brendon stared at them, trying to think of something to say though he knew most people would be annoyed at the prospect of an interruption during an affair as such. He began to move past them as he decided that he’d find her later, slightly uncomfortable with what his eyes had fallen on, until he tripped over the rug— or maybe it was his own foot— and gasped as he caught himself.

Ashley jolted away from the girl, going to cover her chest with her hands, and only then did he realize she had no shirt on. “Jesus Christ, Brendon!” She exclaimed.

“Hi, sorry. I tripped.” He apologized, and she stared at him as the girl she had been kissing moved back to look at him too, brushing hair out of her face. “I’m gay, I don’t care about boobs. Not that I have a problem with them, or anything, I’m just indifferent, but I’m sure yours are great. I didn’t, like, look, but-“

“Stop talking, Brendon.” She said as she reached down to grab her bra from the floor, flushed with embarrassment.

“I’m, uh, gonna go get a drink. I’ll find you later.” The girl said, and excused herself as Ashley nodded and let her go.

“I’m sorry,” Brendon apologized again, and he didn’t even know what he was doing. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Or cause a scene. Uh.” He turned away to give her privacy as she dressed herself again, bending down to grab her discarded shirt and handing it to her behind his back. “I didn’t know you were...”

“Gay? Yeah. Uh, I’m actually bi. I know her from some classes. We’re tight. And it’s okay. Nothing’s private at these parties. If I didn’t want people seeing me shirtless I shouldn’t take my shirt off.” She laughed awkwardly. “You can turn around.” She added, and Brendon did. “Sorry. I get crazy at these things. I drank way too much tonight. My parents are strict, I’m not even allowed to eat sugar, so, y’know. Parties are the only place I can act out. You know?”

Brendon nodded, though he didn’t. He never really acted out. He just did as he was told because he was too scared not to. “S’fine. I’ve seen more topless females tonight than I’ve ever planned to see. This is, uh, this is my first time drinking. I’ve never even tried anything before. I didn’t know it’d make me, like... y’know. This.”

“More awkward than usual?” She suggested, and he nodded dumbly, because she was right. “Right. I almost forgot. You're, like, totally gay. Never thought about dipping your toe into the pool of heterosexuality?" Suppressing a laugh, Brendon shook his head. "Yeah, you're not missing out. You're still with your boyfriend, right? Dallon? I haven’t seen you guys together in a minute. You didn’t break up, did you? Did you come with him?” She rambled, flattening down her hair and adjusting her clothes, trying to fix the mess she made while Brendon nodded after her, not specifying what question he was responding to. Yes, Dallon. Dallon, who was probably regretting his decision to tag along right about now. “Where is he?”

“Downstairs with our friends, I think. He doesn’t like parties. Or people. He only came to protect me cause he’s smarter about most things than I am. I know I should probably be insecure that he thinks I can’t take care of myself but I don’t think he means it that way. I think he wants me to feel safe cause I’m scared of everything. Besides, he said these parties shouldn’t be gone to alone. I did wanna explore on my own for a little while, though, cause I’ve never been to a party. Not a high school house party, anyway.” He took a sip of his drink, and realized then that rambled when he had some alcohol in his system. That was good to know. “I like it.”

“Me too.” She grinned at him like there was some big joke he didn’t understand, maybe couldn’t understand, and reached out for his wrist. “Wanna come sit and talk?” She asked, but didn’t wait for a response before she pulled him toward the open door at the end of the hall and into a room with bright pink walls and zebra print curtains.

She closed the door behind them and went to sit on the bed, not bothering to worry about whether she was disrupting the somewhat peaceful room as the rest of the house’s sound was deafening. Brendon sat across from her, setting his almost empty drink on the side table and going to pull at his torn tee shirt’s hem. “So... what’s up?” He asked dumbly and she giggled, not malicious but amused at how clueless Brendon could be sometimes. He and Ashley were never really friends, more like acquaintances who were a little more than that. Had hung out once or twice during the summer to catch up, for lack of better things to do, but he liked Ashley. She was nice and never mean to him like everybody else was.

“Y’know, making out in front of a bunch of strangers half naked.” She laughed, but didn’t seem as embarrassed as Brendon would have been if he were in her position. He was more insecure than she was, though, but then again who knew where he and Dallon’s brief affair in the living room would have ended up had Dallon not had the sense to stop him. “Besides, if guys can be shirtless out in public then so can girls. I’m an advocator for equality, you know.”

“Me too.” He agreed, didn’t really catch that it was more or less a joke, and smiled sheepishly as he rocked back and forth like a child who couldn’t sit still. “S’just weird, is all. Seeing PDA. I forget sometimes that not everyone’s scared of what people will think. I’m too scared for PDA. Maybe you’re prouder than me. I don’t know. I love being gay, though, like, I’m not ashamed of it or anything. I’ve already passed the phase where I wish I’m straight. But maybe it’s different cause people see gay girls and gay guys in different ways. Which is fucked up, but y’know. We get harassed in different ways. I get shoved in the hallway when I try to hold my boyfriend’s hand and you get sexualized. That sucks. Doesn’t it suck?”

“Yeah, it sucks.” She agreed, folding her arms in amusement of the tangent he’d gone on. “How long have you and Dallon been together, Brendon?”

He did the math in his head, scratching aimlessly at his ankle. “Tomorrow will be our nine month anniversary. Crazy how fast time goes by. It doesn’t feel like nine months. It feels like we just went on our first date. He gave me a rose and took me to this art fair and I don’t know anything about art but I know he makes me smile so I let him talk about all this stuff I didn’t know anything about and it made me think he was someone I could listen to forever. Nine months.”

He slumped over with his elbows on his thighs as she observed him, suddenly exhausted and wondering if maybe dancing for hours wasn’t such a great idea. “And you haven’t had sex?” She asked. Brendon looked up curiously, wondering where she got that idea, and she added, “I mean, you seem very sheltered, y’know? Like you protect yourself.”

The accusation made him think about what he and Dallon had talked about once that summer, how he was boxed into his own little world because he was always too scared to set foot out in the real one. He didn’t want to be that person anymore. He wanted to change. Improve. Just like he had been taught that summer.

“We’ve had sex.” He corrected her, and she raised her eyebrows in surprise, nodding to tell him to continue. “Once. Over the summer. And we did some other stuff a few times, but I don’t know what to qualify those as. Gateway sex. That’s what he called it. He’s cute. Like, he’s really cute. In this way that I don’t think anybody else is. Special cute. Like, every part of him is cute. Even his ass. He has a great ass. Not like I would expect you to know that, you probably don’t look at my boyfriend’s ass. But... yeah. We only did it once. I’d like to do it more, we just, y’know, don’t get the chance. But we will. I have plans, y’know? To be with him forever. Longer than that. If there’s such thing as longer than forever.”

She observed him for a second like she was processing the words and their honesty, though Brendon had no sense to lie these days, especially not when he wasn’t sober. Words spilled out of his mouth before he could organize them and she listened like a therapist, trying to decide when exactly she’d realized Brendon was more than the dorky little diner boy everyone knew him as.

“Nine months. That’s crazy.” She sighed finally, looking him over with oscillating eyes that flickered up to meet Brendon’s wary ones. “And yes, I’ve noticed. Dallon’s a cutie.”

He laughed, poking at a rip in the knee of his jeans. He was, wasn’t he? He was the cutest. Brendon needed to tell him that. Maybe he would tell him when he saw him. Dallon needed to know how cute he was. “Yeah, I know! I really fucking love him, Ashley, you know? Like, so, so much. Scary much. He’s so good for me, like— like he pushes me to be the best I can be and helps me and makes me feel safe. I never knew a person could make me feel safe. He’s just the best person. He’s so cute and smart and funny and he’s so fucking talented. He’s so talented, Ashley. You should see him. And his room. And his sketchbook. I’m in it, y’know? He loves drawing me. He actually likes me. And it’s weird cause I wouldn’t have ever thought that someone like him would like me but here we are. Nine months. You know if I got pregnant when we started dating, I’d like, be having the baby? Not that I can. That, that can’t happen.”

She giggled, and Brendon was talking too much again, but he didn’t wanna stop. He couldn’t stop. Something somewhere buried in his mind was shoving words out of his mind, like some little elf. Like there was a word elf in his brain. Wait until Dallon heard that one. “I know.” She placed a hand on his thigh and tilted her head sweetly, smiling like they finally had some new understanding of each other. “You guys are good together. Everyone thinks so. You should hear the people at school. Sometimes people are mean but that’s all you really notice. What you don’t notice is that some people think you’re really brave for being out at school. Like— like this freshman from my music class asked if you were dating cause she saw you in the hall. And I told her that you were and she said it made her feel better about thinking that she’s gay cause she sees people all around her being gay too. You don’t pay attention to that stuff cause it’s not as in your face.”

“I never saw myself as a role model,” Brendon mused, if that was what you could call it.

“No one ever does. But some people see it that way. I do too. I love you guys together. You really are so cute.”

“I know!” He laughed. “God, someone should put us on the cover of a magazine or something. We’re so good together. We’re so cute. Like the way he takes care of me all the time even though he doesn’t have to and how I can always tell that he’s looking at me even when I’m not doing anything. He’s the best. He puts everyone else in the entire world to shame. And I mentioned how talented he is, right? He’s just... he’s fucking incredible. And his mouth, Ashley, he’s got such a nice mouth.”

And okay, maybe he was a little drunk. More than he thought. Ashley let out a laugh and smacked his arm playfully, maybe he’d said something funny, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t help but laugh along. He shouldn’t have been talking about sex with his boyfriend to someone he wasn’t that close to but he doubted she’d even remember, anyway.

“And your parents are okay with it? You being gay and with a boy?” She inquired suddenly. Brendon nodded, he really was lucky that they were, and she wrapped her arms around herself like she hadn’t even realized. “Mine would kill me if they knew. I don’t even know how to tell them. I don’t know if I could. How’d you come out?”

“Well, I don't know. I was ready to have the big conversation but I just said it and bolted cause I was scared. But then they made me talk about it. It was kinda a big deal cause I used to be super guarded and wouldn’t share anything. Now I feel like I share too much sometimes. I told them I liked boys and they were okay with it. They were actually kinda happy about it, cause I never used to show any emotions and they were glad that I was letting my guard down and getting rid of all the walls I put up. There was nothing to coming out, I was nervous but I had to do it. I didn’t wanna hide it.”

Brendon shrugged half-heartedly and went to pick up his drink again, his throat suddenly dry. She hummed and then stood up abruptly like she’d remembered that she had to do something urgent or perhaps that the conversation was over, so Brendon assumed as such and stood up to join her as she turned toward him, grateful for the story and probably the entertainment as well. “Well, I hope that when I come out, they’ll be as cool as your parents were. And I hope that I can have a relationship like you and Dallon’s. It looks like more than just a dumb cliché high school relationship. He’s gonna be the one that saves you, Brendon.”

He wasn’t quite sure what that meant, though he knew deep down that he was getting readable and way too easy. Was he too obvious? How did she know that he needed to be saved? Because he was kind of lost, or maybe more than kind of, and maybe someone was on their way to find him. Dallon. Doing what he always did.

Her words rang in his ears. A relationship like he and Dallon’s. He couldn’t believe the Brendon who appeared in public was one that people aimed to be like. He was nothing like that Brendon. Just a year ago he was staring at his phone and smiling at Dallon’s phone number for the first time. Now he used it every day and knew it by heart. Now the boy it belonged to was a piece of his heart, too. “Me too.” He gave her a hug, a long one that meant more than just a simple goodbye at a party when they’d see each other at school in a day or two, and she squeezed him tight back.

“You should get back to your gorgeous boyfriend with the talented mouth and the cute ass.” Oh, right. He’d said that, hadn’t he? “I’ll see you at school.” She added, and kissed his cheek before she led him out of the room, as a couple stood impatiently in the hallway and waited to use it for a completely different purpose.

They parted ways and Brendon decided that he’d seen enough of this floor as he went to find the stairs again, holding onto the railing and heading back down to find his boyfriend, past the heated games and fervent couples. Almost a year ago he was sitting at the bottom of his home’s stairs, staying watchful of the party his siblings had thrown because he was scared of the crowd. He was tired of being scared. He wanted to find out what everyone else liked so much.

He took the last sip of his drink and made a detour for the kitchen to fill it up again before he could find Dallon, still counting it as one drink because who was he hurting? It was all still in the same cup. Besides, it had been a while since he’d started this one. He filled it himself this time, taking a second to figure out the keg, and almost bumped into a group of girls dancing in the kitchen as he slipped by and went to search for his boyfriend.

“Dallon.” He called when he caught sight of him in the dining room with their friends, hardly catching his attention over the blaring music. Dallon looked around for a second before he spotted him and Brendon headed over, going immediately to wrap an arm around him because it felt like it had been so long since he’d seen him, fifteen minutes, maybe more, and he missed him.

He could feel Dallon’s anxiety in the tension of his shoulders when Dallon greeted, “Hi. Where’ve you been?”

“With Ashley. Jus’ talking.” He pressed a kiss to his chin, meant to get his mouth, and pulled away to peek inside his red cup and note that it was orange soda. “Where have you been?”

“Y’know. Just here.” Dallon smiled down at him, looking more protective now, and Brendon felt light and dizzy happy when he smiled back, not quite catching the look of worry paired with it.

“Are you drunk, Bren?” Josh cut in, holding a can of Coke as the designated driver.

“I don't know.” He shrugged, though he did. The taste of beer lingered on his tongue, felt too big for his mouth, but he felt weightless and free and warm and fuzzy and he loved it. The feeling of not caring. He raised his cup to tap ceremoniously against Tyler’s in a cheers. “Could be.”

“Well, let’s go dance!” Tyler announced in conclusion, the conversation boring him, as he took Josh’s hand and tugged him toward the living room without letting the boy get a word in. Dancing. That sounded like a good idea. Brendon followed, but stopped mid-step to turn back to look at Dallon.

“I have to pee.” He yelled over the music, not caring who overheard.

Dallon gave him a once-over warily, watching him sway because maybe he had drank a little too much, he wasn’t used to the alcohol in his system, and he couldn’t help it if he was overprotective. He knew already that in a few hours he’d be tucking a half-asleep Brendon under the covers. “Want me to come with you?”

“No, I can pee alone.” He assured him, and laughed because he sounded so silly, taking another sip of his drink.

“Are you sure? Do you want me to hold your drink?” Dallon urged, reaching out to take it and only retreating his hand when Brendon shook his head. Dallon didn’t have to worry. Brendon was just politely introducing himself to a world with the in-crowd. He tilted his chin up to steal a kiss, buoyant and mostly a smile but just enough to reassure him.

“I got it!” He promised, knew that it was probably a good idea but didn’t want to be reliant. He could take care of himself. He didn’t need Dallon to take care of him tonight. He wanted to be independent for once. He wanted autonomy. It was his senior year, this was his first party, he was going to be his own person. Prove he could do everything himself. Dallon gave him a look of hesitance, and Brendon added, “I promise! I got it! I’ll be right back. Don’t dance without me.”

“I won’t, baby.” Dallon forced a smile but let him go, watching him reluctantly until he was gone. Brendon ventured over to the opposite side of the house to find the bathroom, past the dancing crowds and masquerading costumes.

He found the small, vacant room in the middle of a hall filled with people, trying to squeeze through the crowd and accidentally bumping into someone taller than him, a football player, he thought. “Sorry!” He apologized, shuffling past him, and set his cup down on the table outside the bathroom door as he slipped inside, locking it behind him and going to tug down his zipper.

He washed his hands when he was done and giggled to himself in the mirror, he looked like a sweaty, danced out mess but he was having so much fun. He couldn’t find a towel so he dried his hands on his pants and looked around the bathroom, tinier compared to the rest of the house, before he went to fumble with unlocking the door and slipped back out into the hallway.

Grabbing his cup again, he went to go find Dallon and his friends, taking a sip and swaying his hips as he squeezed past his classmates and to the center of the living room as music blared and his boyfriend turned to greet him. He slung an arm over Dallon’s shoulder, stumbling a little bit but catching himself, and raised his cup to his boyfriend’s lips. “You want a sip?” He offered, but Dallon recoiled.

“No, thanks.” He declined, rubbing Brendon’s upper back, and he was being overprotective again, Brendon knew. He got that way sometimes. But Brendon hadn’t even drank that much and besides, he deserved to let loose for one night. Dallon didn’t need to watch out for him. “Not a big drinker. You shouldn’t have any more, though, you’re sufficiently intoxicated.”

“I’m okay.” He promised, just trying to make his senior Halloween party worth his time. Besides, everyone else was doing it. He took a long sip of his drink out of spite and eyed Dallon over the cup, watching his disapproving eyes, feeling placated with that diaphanous feeling in his bones. Beer tasted disgusting but he loved feeling so light. “After this I’ll stop.” He added, a promise as empty as the calories in his drink as he poked at Dallon’s ribs to get him to smile and started to dance against him.

Brendon wasn’t the only one this party was for. He wanted to fix him and Dallon. They needed to have some fun together.

Brendon didn’t know when he started not to feel fine, but just half an hour prior he was having such a good time, dancing with Tyler and Dallon and Josh, smiling and laughing and not caring about the world around him. He wondered in passing if maybe he drank more than he thought he did, because everything was becoming incoherent as he finished his drink and tossed the cup aside, not bothering to look for a trashcan.

“Are you okay?” Dallon asked, quiet enough for only them two to hear, noticing the way Brendon swayed and almost tripped over his own feet. Brendon giggled euphoniously and nodded, using Dallon’s shoulder to hold him up steadily because he was dizzy, all of a sudden. Had he been this dizzy earlier? “Maybe you should sit down.”

“I don’t wanna.” Brendon insisted, trying to be independent, he would decide when enough was enough. Maybe enough had been enough for a while, he was sweaty and drowsy and his head pounded but he was having fun.

The thumping music made his head feel like it was going to explode and he could feel the blood coursing through his veins, rushing in his ears, could hear the sound of his heartbeat speed up by the second like it was going to break out of his chest.

All of a sudden his vision sharpened and blurred, he was dizzy, he couldn’t focus, couldn’t think, and everything around him began to spiral until he collapsed, the room still spinning around him like a top.

“Bren-“

The world stopped for a split second. Everybody turned to see what happened as Tyler dropped down beside him, slipping a hand under the back of his head. And in that split second Dallon gasped, and Josh moved people back, but the dancing didn’t stop, and the music didn’t stop, and Brendon didn’t wake up.

Dallon kneeled down beside his boyfriend and looked up at Tyler with dumb fear, not knowing what to do, not understanding, with something in his eyes that made him unrecognizable. Everybody went back to their party, a few only bothering to ask if he was okay out of curiosity, though none of them had an answer, because this didn’t look like okay. Brendon lying on the floor unconscious didn't qualify as okay.

“Fuck,” Dallon huffed, slapping his cheeks to wake him up as Tyler shook his arm.

“Stop, you don’t wanna hurt him.” Josh placed a hand on Tyler’s shoulder and bent down beside him.

Dallon knew something bad was going to happen tonight. He knew it. He didn't even want to come to this stupid party. He told him to drink less. He stared down at the flush of his cheeks and the sweat on his forehead, and he told him to drink less. Dallon told him what to do for a reason. He wasn't just controlling for fun. He told him to take it easy and Brendon didn’t listen, because Brendon never listened, and now he was lying on a stranger’s floor and Dallon didn’t know what to do or how to help or what was even wrong but he wished they had just stayed home.

“Is he okay?!” Tyler yelled over the music, and a few people looked over to whisper about the lightweight who passed out in the middle of the crowd, as Brendon Urie earned yet another label that would stick with him throughout senior year. Dallon leaned down to get a closer look at him, pale under the fake scratches, but flushed. Sickly, almost. He shook his head aimlessly, not knowing what to say.

“Try to pick him up,” Josh instructed, and began to scoop up his legs. “Let’s take him somewhere quiet and figure this out.”

Dallon nodded dumbly and picked him up bridal style, holding him close to his body and trying to get him through the dancing partygoers. Brendon was tiny but he was dead weight, and as Dallon reached the front lawn outside he fell to his knees and let Brendon down on the grass.

“Okay.” Tyler sat beside Brendon and Dallon brushed his hair back, matted to his forehead with sweat. “Maybe it’s just a dizzy spell. Maybe he just had a little too much to drink. He’s never gotten drunk before so maybe...” He trailed off, not really knowing what he was gonna say, and looked up at Josh pacing around on the grass. But Brendon hadn’t had that much to drink, had he? He was a little drunk. Not blackout drunk. Dallon thought he was more in control than that. “Can you check his pulse, Josh?”

“Yeah.” Josh sighed, knew how to do it, and went to press two fingers to the side of his neck, above the two red dots he’d drawn to make it look like he had been bitten by a vampire, as he suggested he and Dallon match in some way. Dallon opened his mouth to speak but Josh shushed him, leaning down to press his ear to Brendon’s chest. “It’s really slow.”

“And that’s bad?” Tyler asked and Josh shrugged, pulling Brendon’s head into his lap carefully so it wasn’t against the ground.

“Well, I don’t think it’s good.” He brushed Brendon’s hair back too, and Dallon reached out to take Brendon’s hand, inexplicably guilty. He warned Brendon that this wasn’t a good idea. Drinking for the first time on a school night at a crowded party just days after they almost broke up. He knew Brendon was hurting. He knew he was trying to look for a remedy.

He told him not to. He did everything he could. He just wished he had stopped him from taking it too far.

“So what the hell happened? He didn’t have, like, that much to drink. Brendon wouldn’t get out of control like that. He wouldn’t get blackout drunk. He promised he would pace himself.” Dallon defended him, though weak because he didn’t really know what Brendon had thought. But he wasn’t stupid. Dallon knew he wasn’t. Stubborn and childish sometimes, a little naive, but not stupid.

“He was drugged,” Tyler said quietly like he were hesitant, and Dallon looked up at him in disbelief. That couldn’t be it. Nobody would intentionally try and hurt his Brendon. That didn’t make any sense. “He had to have been drugged. He didn’t drink enough to be blackout drunk. He passed out randomly, he looked dizzy and tired and he wasn’t acting like himself. Someone probably drugged his drink, guys.”

“No, that-“ Dallon shook his head, he couldn’t— he didn’t— “I don’t think-“

“He’s probably right, Dal.” Josh interrupted, staring down at an unconscious Brendon and trying to think of what to do. “Where did he go when he left you?”

“He went to talk to Ashley, but she wouldn’t— she wouldn’t do that. And then he went—“ He stopped short, and tears slid down his cheeks when he realized, turning to look at his Brendon and shaking his head again. He was right. He must had been... “He went to the bathroom and I offered to hold his drink. He said no. He wanted to do it himself. I guess he must have put it down outside of the bathroom and someone must have drugged it.”

“It happens sometimes. A lot of guys will drug people’s drinks. They probably didn’t know it was his specifically. I would have thought he'd know not to put his cup down unsupervised.” Josh figured, and studied Brendon’s face with worry. “If he was drugged then we need to try and keep him awake. And we should call someone. The police and an ambulance or something.”

“No,” Tyler intervened, and they both looked up at him with wide eyes. “No, he’s underage. It’s illegal. If they found out he was drinking then he’ll get in trouble. Everyone will get in trouble. Including us.”

“You mean including you. We didn’t drink. And I don’t care about everybody else. I care about Brendon,” Dallon muttered, and didn’t bother hearing him out as he brushed his thumb against Brendon’s cheekbone. His Brendon.

“Don’t be selfish, Ty.” Josh added, feeling for Brendon’s pulse again.

“No, I mean—“ He huffed, getting up to pace. “I don’t care if I get in trouble. But I care if Brendon does. He couldn’t handle this and then the police. He can’t handle much of anything, you guys. Have you met Grace and Boyd? They’re Mormons. They don’t even drink. They’d kick his ass if they found out he was getting drunk and passing out at parties. If this doesn’t kill him then they will.”

“God, don’t say that,” Dallon whispered, voice cracking with black tears as he touched Brendon’s face with his hands, knew he was right because his overprotective mother wouldn’t be happy but he was sure that her son being drugged was even worse than his drinking recklessly. “So what do we do? His parents need to know.”

“We can handle this. At least for now, we can handle it.” Tyler assured them, though his hands were shaking, and Brendon was still as Josh shifted underneath his head. Dallon knew they should have called an ambulance, shut the party down, had the police question everyone to find the perpetrator. But they didn’t need to spend all night in a waiting room when Brendon was already unconscious. All they could do was take him home, let him sleep it off, and pray he would be alright.

He could blame it on the universe, everything happened for a reason, but this didn’t seem to be logical. A seventeen-year-old boy was laying unconscious in a stranger’s yard because someone was planning to hurt someone tonight. Nothing about that made sense. Nothing about that had a reason or an explanation.

“I don’t know what to do,” Dallon admitted, his voice broken.

“Fuck. Me neither." Josh shook his head pensively. "Technically he’s not supposed to be asleep, I think that could be dangerous, but I don’t think there’s anything we can do now. We should give him some water and try to get him up. Keep an eye on him tonight and make sure that he doesn’t lay on his back. In case he throws up, y’know? Don’t let him go to school tomorrow either. Ty, can you go grab a water bottle from the trunk of my car?” Josh retracted his keys from his pocket and Tyler nodded, catching them when he tossed them and then taking off down the street in a rush.

Dallon brushed his fingers through Brendon’s hair, watching the rise and fall of his chest and praying it didn’t stop. “How do you know what to do?” He asked quietly, only looking up to see his face in the dark.

Josh watched as Dallon slipped his arms underneath Brendon and gently shifted him onto his lap, trying to be careful but barely even knowing what he was doing. “My brother is premed. When I went into high school he told me what to do when someone gets drugged at a party or wherever. As a precaution. It happened to one of his friends and he wanted to make sure I knew how to help. I don’t remember exactly what he said because it was four years ago but I’m doing what I can.”

“I appreciate it,” Dallon said quietly, cheeks glistening in hidden moonlight, leaving streaks of makeup he didn’t bother wiping away.

Josh sighed, reaching out to place a hand on Brendon’s arm as if to shake him awake, and added, “I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know if he’s gonna be okay. I know we should call somebody, but I don’t— Tyler wants to protect him but how safe is it if we don’t call someone? What do you think we should do?”

“I don’t know,” Dallon whispered, shaking his head and going to take out his stupid fucking costume fangs because this night wasn’t fun anymore. It was never fun. “I don’t want to make any decisions right now.”

“That’s okay,” Josh assured him, and shifted closer to pull him into a hug as he saw Dallon’s bottom lip trembling. “It’s okay, Dal. Just make sure you take care of him. Tell him you love him and don’t let him throw up when he’s sleeping and make sure he’s comfortable. Let him get a lot of rest and figure out what to do together in the morning.”

Dallon nodded, burying a face in his shoulder, but said nothing because he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know who to blame. He just felt guilty. Because he could have stopped it, and if this was it then the past month he had been neglecting Brendon when he shouldn’t have. He knew how Brendon felt about being abandoned and Dallon felt like all he was doing was abandoning him again.

Footsteps caught their attention and they both looked up, and Josh accepted his keys while Dallon accepted the water bottle that Tyler handed him. Dallon thanked him, setting it aside on the grass, and went to try and prop Brendon up because lying in the grass in the cold wasn’t helping.

Brendon made a noise of distress and Dallon tried to hold him up, grunting because when he was dead weight he seemed so much heavier than he usually did. “C’mon, Bren,” Dallon whispered under his breath, trying and failing to get him to sit up on his own. He leaned against Dallon’s side, a head on his shoulder, and Dallon added, “I should get him in my car, right? I should get him home.”

“Yeah. Let me help. Let’s give him some water.” Josh grabbed the bottle of water and twisted it open. Brendon was hardly responsive and mostly pliant, letting Josh pour the water in his mouth, wiping off his chin when he didn’t swallow all of it, and Dallon wiped his cheeks as he got up with Brendon in his arms. “You got him?”

“Yeah, I got him,” Dallon huffed, managing to get him up and carry him to his car a few spaces down the street as Josh held onto his legs and Tyler followed, not knowing how to help.

He should have said no. He should have just told Brendon they neither of them were going. They should have kept talking things out until they were okay. All of this was meant for remedy. For making up for lost time, letting loose after being so tense with each other for weeks. Dallon was regretting now how stubborn he had been.

He got Brendon into his passenger seat and he leaned his head back against the seat, making this noise of frustration like he didn’t want to be woken up. He started to stir and Tyler buckled his seatbelt, moving out of the way to let Dallon in.

“Hey, sweetheart, I need you to try and stay awake for me. You need some water,” Dallon cooed, reaching out to grab the bottle from Josh. Brendon struggled to keep his eyes open but Dallon coerced him into taking a long sip, nothing should have happened this way, Dallon shouldn’t have let it get this far, and he swiped a thumb over his chin. “Good. Good boy.” He praised in a whisper. “I’m gonna get you home to sleep. But right now you gotta stay awake for me, okay?”

“Mhm.” Brendon agreed, barely conscious, and Dallon went to close the door of the passenger seat, only turning to hug and thank his friends for the help, promising to call if he needed them.

“Okay, Brendon,” Dallon sighed, climbing into the driver’s seat and pulling his door shut behind him. “Can you stay awake for twenty minutes? That’s all I need. I just need you to stay awake. Can you do that?” He fumbled with his keys and Brendon nodded, curling up and leaning his head against the window. He made an incoherent noise like he was trying to say something and Dallon asked quietly, tears in his eyes, “What, honey?”

Brendon squirmed weakly in his seat, trying to muster up the energy, tired and confused. “Tell me a story.” He whispered, his voice hoarse.

“A story?” He asked, surprised, and Brendon nodded as Dallon went to place a hand on Brendon’s thigh, wracking his brain for anything to make Brendon smile. A story. He had a lot of those. “Okay. Uh. I’ll— I’ll tell you about the botanical gardens. I’ve wanted to take you there. You ever been there?” He shook his head, looking pained when Dallon turned to check on him. “It’s like— this garden where you walk through and see these butterflies. There are hundreds of them, and they’ll all land on you. You’ve gotta watch your step and everything, you have to be really careful, but it was one of my favorite places to go. So my parents would take me all the time. They said the reason the butterflies kept landing on me was cause I was so sweet. I don’t know why I was so infatuated with them. It was like this escape from the real world. Everything there was so beautiful. Each butterfly was unique. So my dad and I would draw them together when we got home, and it became, like, a routine. Where we would go see the butterflies and draw as many as we could remember.”

“Yeah?” Brendon asked, trying to stay awake.

“Yeah. And it became one of my favorite traditions. Somewhere along the line I started seeing people the same way. You know, unique, like butterflies. Gentle and sweet and careful. Beautiful, with good intentions. My theory has been challenged a few times but I’m staying hopeful.” His heart ached. “So I guess you can say that my belief in humankind was formed by an insect.”

Brendon laughed weakly like it took every ounce of energy in him and Dallon couldn’t understand how he could even be laughing right now. He was too guileless sometimes. Too much for his own good. “That’s cute.” He attempted feebly to say, and Dallon nodded, rubbing his thigh and watching yellow lines disappear under the moving car.

“Yeah?” A lazy nod. “I think so too. Somewhere up in my room I have this sketchbook full of butterfly drawings. I’ll show you them sometime.” He promised, and knew he’d hold himself to it, because Brendon was going to be fine. He had to be fine.

Brendon nodded again, or tried, as he began to lull back to sleep with the soothing bumps of the road. Sleeping in cars had always been a guilty pleasure of Brendon’s anyway, and they were almost there. They were almost home. Dallon looked at him from the driver’s seat but wouldn’t let himself cry, because they were almost home.

Dallon hardly found the strength to get Brendon out of the passenger seat when he’d parked, trying to bite back tears as he managed to get him in his arms and take him up the elevator from the garage. Brendon was barely awake and couldn’t hold himself up, leaning on Dallon for support as he put him down to unlock the apartment, leaving an arm around him to lead him toward his room. “Okay, Bren. Let’s go.” He muttered, letting him go.

Brendon collapsed on Dallon’s bed and Dallon stared at him, a hand on his hip and the other over his mouth, trying to think of what to do. Brendon hugged a pillow like it was keeping him grounded and all Dallon could do was stand there. Brendon didn’t know anything. Dallon couldn’t ask him what he thought he should do.

Dallon turned around and went to open his drawer, moving quickly as his mind raced. “Fuck this stupid fucking made up holiday, for fuck’s sake. I didn’t even want to go that goddamn party anyway. It’s not a good idea, I said. Well, no one listens to Dallon. God. You’re the size of a garden gnome. You should be the last person to be drinking carelessly.” Dallon muttered to himself as he pulled off Brendon’s paint-stained shirt and replaced it with a sweater of his own.

He took his glasses off gently as Brendon tried to curl up on his bed, unbuttoned his jeans, replaced them carefully with sweatpants to make sure he was comfortable. As he wet a washcloth and sat beside him on the bed, smearing red makeup off of his cheek, Brendon tried to look up at him with confusion clear in big brown eyes and tears in blue ones because he promised to protect Brendon. He didn’t know it would have to be from this.

“I’m sorry,” Dallon whispered, realizing that his outburst didn’t help. “I’m so sorry this happened, my baby. I’m sorry I let this happen.” Brendon wouldn’t remember the apology in the morning but he made a noise of acknowledgment anyway, and Dallon folded the washcloth.

“S’okay.” He muttered, but it wasn’t. Brendon couldn’t comprehend what he was even saying right now. Everything had been fucked up. Dallon didn’t even want to go to that fucking party to begin with. He scrubbed at Brendon’s arms, there wasn’t anything he could do now but wait and pray, and tucked him in under the covers to keep him warm.

As Brendon dozed off on his side of the bed, Dallon brushed his fingers through his hair, doing research because he didn’t know what else to do. He tended to spiral when he didn’t know how to help. It made sense, his being drugged, the dizziness and confusion and inability to stay awake. Dallon just couldn’t understand who would want to hurt his Brendon.

“I’m gonna go wash my makeup off,” Dallon told him as he climbed out of bed, as if he knew, and leaned down to press an unreturned kiss to his lips. “I love you so much. Get some rest.”

“Mhm.” Brendon let his eyes slip shut once more as he shifted underneath the covers to get comfortable. He made sure there was a bottle of water on the side table by Brendon’s glasses as he crossed the hall with the washcloth in hand, going to toss it into the sink and close the door behind him before he fell apart.

A sob escaped his throat and wracked his body as he began to pace in the confined room, from the bathtub to the door and back again. Tears spilled out onto his cheeks and his ribs felt crushed, like his lungs were full of water and anxiety was in his veins and fear was in his bloodstream because this couldn’t be happening. How could this have happened?

He pulled his phone from his pocket and fumbled with unlocking it and finding the number, Grace Urie, muffling his sob with a hand so that Brendon wouldn’t hear him cry. He clutched the edge of the sink to steady himself and clicked on her name, hands trembling. He hated to do this in a phone call. He hated to do this at all.

He could hear blood pounding in his ears as he listened to the ringing on the other line before it connected, and Brendon’s mother greeted him with exhaustion clear in her voice because it was hours into the night and nobody was awake at this time. Nobody but scared boys and rebellious teenagers. “Hi, Grace, it’s Dallon.” He said in a rush, trying and feeling to keep his voice calm.

“Hi, Dallon, is everything okay? It’s late.” She asked, shuffling on her end of the call, and Dallon felt bad for waking her but he didn’t know what else to do. All he could picture was Brendon’s unconscious body lying on the floor of a stranger’s house. He thought he was going to die. It wasn’t okay. The entire night had been not okay.

Another sob crawled up his throat. "No." He choked out, throwing a hand over his mouth again.

"Dallon, sweetie, I need you to tell me what's going on." Her voice asked gently, not menacing, not malicious or rushed, but urgent.

He took a deep breath and let it out shudderingly a moment later, leaning over the sink like he was about to throw up. “Brendon and I went to that stupid party tonight and I didn’t want to but he thought it would be a good idea. I think he thought that it would be a good way to fit in. And he had a drink or two, but I didn’t have any, I swear I tried to get him to stop but he didn’t listen. A-and I don’t know what happened but I think his drink got drugged.”

“He got drugged?” She asked, and he could hear her shush who Dallon could only assume was her husband. “What? Who did it? Why? Is he okay? Where is he now?”

Another round of tears made their way down his face and he shook his head, panicking and feeling his chest tighten with every breath. He didn’t want to do this. He couldn’t do this. He caught sight of himself in the mirror, and black streaks stained his cheeks, and he didn’t look like himself. He didn’t know how long he had begun to lose sight of him.

“Dallon, honey, I need you to breathe. Just take a few deep breaths, calm down, and tell me what happened.”

Gripping the porcelain of the sink so hard that his knuckles turned a muted shade of white, he inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, exhaled. There was no explanation. None of this made any sense. “He went to the bathroom and I— I offered to take his drink. He said no. And I should have been persistent, I wish I had been more persistent, but he said no. And I didn’t want to force him. And he must have put his drink down somewhere. Someone must have drugged him. Cause he passed out, and we tried to take care of him, and I didn’t know what to do. I-I freaked out and brought him back to my house so he can rest. My mom isn't home tonight and I didn't wanna cause any trouble, I don’t know the law about underage drinking and being drugged but I was scared. And I’m sorry. I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have let this happen.”

His vision blurred with tears and his ears were cloudy with gut wrenching panic. Brendon’s mother’s voice felt a million miles away, like he were underwater and trying to grab at something, anything, a piece of driftwood or some sort of ledge, only to be met with more rushing water. This wasn’t how he wanted tonight to go. "Dallon, is my son okay?"

He covered his mouth to muffle another sob. "I don't know. I tried to help, I kept him awake, but— but I’m gonna stay up and watch him all night. I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m gonna come over.”

“Don’t.” He said, and she stopped. “He’s sleeping. I just— I want him to sleep. I’m gonna watch him. I’m gonna make sure he’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you; I just want to make sure you know. I’ll bring him home in the morning.”

“Okay, honey, but you call me if you need anything. I need to know what’s going on.” She demanded, hesitant to let him go though it was too late at night to do anything and besides, Dallon would keep an eye on him. He vowed to protect him. “Thank you for calling me. I’m trusting you.” She added, and he didn’t know how to tell her that he was already failing Brendon and he didn’t want to fail her too. “Try and get some rest. But keep him safe. We’ll talk soon.”

“We will.” He agreed, averting his gaze from the sink to his own eyes in the mirror before he looked away guiltily. All he wanted was to protect his Brendon. They exchanged goodbyes and he turned back toward himself in the mirror, letting himself cry again because this was the only place he could do it. How could he let this happen? How did this happen to Brendon? Out of the hundreds of people at that party, why Brendon?

He splashed cold water in his face and with shaking fingers, scrubbing at it until his skin was free of his makeup. Stupid fucking Halloween. He didn’t even want to celebrate it. Black lines dripped down his cheeks and he toweled off his face, not knowing the difference between tears and tap water. He looked up at himself again, and swore he was going to be strong.

Brendon was fast asleep when he returned to his bedroom, clutching the pillow like it was keeping him in place. Dallon settled in beside him but didn’t get comfortable, just placed a hand in his hair and kissed his forehead and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest because he would never take his eyes off of Brendon again. He swore he wouldn’t.

Dallon couldn’t fall asleep or didn’t try, just watched him, waited, though he didn’t know what for. He listened to him breathe, felt his pulse, appreciated that he was even alive right now. Watched his eyelashes flutter as he replayed the night’s events over and over in his head. Brendon just wanted to have a good night. He was having a good night. How could it happen to him? How could it happen to Brendon? His innocent Brendon. A boy who had already endured so much pain and frustration and fear.

They were all just these cascading failures, like the domino effect. Like everything happened after another and it all led up to this. Dallon brushed the boy’s hair out of his face, tears in his eyes, and he swore he wouldn’t let this boy hurt. He swore, so why did he keep failing him?

Dallon brushed a thumb underneath his eye as Brendon shifted in his sleep, and he swore that things were going to be different.


	32. Chapter 31: Standing Center Stage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yikes!!!!!

Brendon squinted his eyes open through the early morning light and his head pounded, unfamiliar exhaustion lingering in his bones as he shifted on his side. Dallon stared down at him with tears in his eyes, and reached up to wipe his cheeks when he caught Brendon’s sleepy gaze, not having looked away from him in hours. He stirred for a minute and reached out for something to grasp blindly, looking for his pillow but finding Dallon’s thigh instead. Dallon didn’t know what to say so he said nothing, but slipped his hand into Brendon’s when he searched for it nonetheless.

“Did you sleep at all?” Brendon asked groggily and Dallon shook his head, squeezing his hand as he brushed his fingers across his cheeks again, he promised himself he wouldn’t cry, but Brendon didn’t understand. He was just at the party. He didn’t drink that much, did he? He couldn’t remember anything. He made a noise of distress and shifted to sit up on his elbows, looking away from Dallon and around his room as if it would make him remember. When had he gotten back to Dallon’s? Wasn’t he just dancing? “Can I have my glasses?” He asked, confused.

“Yeah.” Dallon turned to get them from the side table and Brendon tried to hold himself up but couldn’t, giving up and plopping back down on the mattress. He felt weak, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat from a dreamless sleep, his body tired as he tried to kick the covers off of himself, suddenly too hot. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

He slipped his glasses on and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, trying to remember though everything was fuzzy. He was dancing. He was having fun. So why was Dallon so upset? “No.” He squirmed around, squinting pensively at nothing in particular as he tried to piece things together. Trying to make connections, associate his mind with last night’s events. Getting a drink, dancing with his friends. Talking to Ashley and rambling about things he couldn’t remember now that he was sober, smiling a lot in spite of himself. Nothing worth crying over. “I remember drinking. Talking to Ashley, and making you dance, and I think I might have gotten too drunk or something, I think...”

“You passed out,” Dallon supplied for him and Brendon nodded slowly, like he were taking it in but couldn’t quite remember. Okay. He was an idiot. He shouldn’t have drank so much. Dallon sighed, Brendon didn’t need to hear it from people in the hallways at school. Strangers hurt him enough. “Um, listen, Bren. I think that somebody might have drugged your drink. I don’t know why, or who did it, but I think someone drugged you and that’s why you passed out.”

Something in Brendon’s stomach dropped and he shifted to sit up again, reaching out to use Dallon for support. “What?” He peeped, because that made no sense. He couldn’t have gotten drugged. That wasn’t possible. This was supposed to be his year.

Tears slid down Dallon’s cheek and Brendon looked away, trying to make sense of it but he couldn’t. Someone... drugged him? Didn’t that only happen in the movies? Dallon shook his head suddenly, apologetic though it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t have known, he couldn’t have stopped it, and Brendon felt tears well up in his eyes as he realized. “I’m sorry.” Dallon cried, unable to stop himself, and Brendon’s head was spinning. “I’m so sorry, Bren. I wanted you to have a good time. I didn’t think something like this would happen to you. I didn’t think something like this would happen at all. I wish I just protected you. I should have taken better care of you. I know I’m the worst boyfriend in the world and I’m sorry.”

"No, it’s not your fault. I don’t..." Brendon shook his head, trying to think. "I... I remember drinking. And I wasn't thinking straight for a while and I started getting dizzy. Like, I think I may have drank too much, and it was really strong. I don’t remember anything else after that.”

“Yeah. You went to the bathroom and must have put your cup down because you started acting off when you got back. Did you, um, did you fill your cup again? You had a lot left when you got back.”

“Yeah.” He nodded slowly, realizing he had broken his promise of only one drink. He remembered bits and pieces, going back to the kitchen and filling his cup again, trying to have a little more fun. He didn’t go to parties often. “Yeah, I did. I just wanted to have fun, I didn’t think—“ He stopped.

“I know. You couldn’t have known.” Dallon looked down at his lap with an unreadable look in his eye and guilty, confused tears slid down Brendon’s cheeks. “I don’t know. I didn’t know what to do. I was really scared. I’m really scared.”

“Me too,” Brendon said, voice coming out in a whisper. It didn’t make sense. There were hundreds of people at that party. Out of all of them, why him? Was it just his split second of bad luck? Was it just his being at the wrong place at the wrong time? His chest felt constricted when he tried to breathe steadily. “I’m confused.” He added calculatedly, wracking his brain for answers. “How did I get here? Why aren’t I home? Does my family know? And isn’t it Monday? Why didn’t you wake me up for school?”

“Your mom texted me to tell me she called you out. I called her last night to talk to her. When you passed out Tyler, Josh, and I took care of you and brought you to my car. I brought you here because I didn’t know what else to do. I panicked. I wanted to take you to the hospital but Tyler said that you might get in trouble for drinking, but I looked it up and there’s a law for protection for underage drinking when you get drugged. So if you go to the doctors you’ll be okay. If that’s what you want to do. If that’s what your parents think you should do.” Dallon watched him nod, trying to take it all in despite his headache. “Everything’s gonna be okay, Brendon. I’ll bring you home whenever you feel up to it.”

Brendon said nothing but went to pull him into a hug, overwhelmed and scared and confused because he felt like he wasn’t in his own body. Like it had detached from him and went off to have fun on its own, leaving his mind to deal with the repercussions. Dallon hugged him back tight, and he was never going to take his eyes off of him again. Not if he could help it. He looked up at the ceiling and made a wish on a glow in the dark star as he smoothed down Brendon’s hair, unkempt after a long night, and Dallon was tired, so tired, but couldn’t let himself sleep. Brendon buried his face in the warm fabric of Dallon’s shirt and asked, “Does everybody know?”

Dallon paused, but the silence was enough. In a city like this everybody watched the outsiders. That was how it went. Brendon Urie was an outsider if there ever were one. He hesitated, and only nodded when Brendon stared.

He wanted the night to shape his senior year. It was supposed to be a staple of his high school career. A night to remember. It all just sounded so pathetic now.

Tears slipped down his cheeks and he wiped them away, shaking his head, overwhelmed and still confused as he tried but couldn’t remember. “I’m sorry,” Dallon apologized in a whisper, but it wasn’t his fault. None of it was. Brendon should have been more careful. He knew better than to leave his drink unattended. He just wasn’t thinking straight. He was caught up in the adrenaline. But even then, how could he have been so stupid?

"Thank you for taking care of me," Brendon whispered back, not addressing the apology because it was in vain. Dallon did what he could. He wasn’t Brendon’s babysitter. Brendon shouldn’t have needed to be taken care of.

Dallon kissed the top of his head gently, brushing hair behind his ear. “I wish I had done a better job.” He admitted.

“Don’t beat yourself up. I should have listened to you in the first place. I drank too much and wasn’t thinking straight. I should have been more careful. It’s my fault.”

“No it’s not. You couldn’t have predicted this.” He shook his head, eyebrows furrowed in thought. “It’s whoever drugged you’s fault. What kind of sick asshole drugs people at a high school party?”

Brendon shook his head too, wiping his cheeks with the sleeves of his borrowed sweater. He had never known what kind of vermin lurked through the halls of the school he had once felt so safe in. Now he was dreading going back. Everybody must be talking about him. "A sick asshole." He muttered, and he didn’t even know the half of it.

Dallon didn't know what to say because it wasn’t easy to blame an invisible stranger. Every line here was blurred and Brendon couldn’t tell whether or not he even wanted to know. What was the point? What could he do? Was he even allowed to pin any blame? “So, I did some research last night. Just in case you really were drugged. I couldn’t sleep knowing you were hurt. You... you could've died, Brendon, or you could've had a seizure or something. I don't know what I would have done. I'm so glad you're alright."

"Oh." He looked away, and he didn’t realize how dangerous this was. He never would have drank so much knowing he could have died or ended up in the hospital. He met Dallon’s eyes again and they looked pained, guilty, and maybe apologetic too if Brendon has the energy to search for it. “Is it normal that I don’t remember?”

“Yeah. Your memory will come back eventually. It’s just a side effect of the drug. For your sake I hope you don’t remember everything but things will slowly become clearer. That’s what it said online. As much as you can trust web articles to diagnose you.”

“In an emergency I think it’s okay.” Brendon amended, and Dallon tried to smile. “Can you take me home? I wanna, uh. I wanna talk to my parents.”

"Of course. It’s okay." Dallon slid out of bed and put a hand out to tell Brendon to wait a minute when he began to follow, slowly pushing himself up. "Hey, I'm gonna get you some water. Do you want anything to eat?" Brendon shook his head, his throat feeling raw. “Okay. That’s okay. I’ll be right back.”

"Okay." He peeped, letting himself sink back against Dallon’s pillows. His safe space, but he hardly felt safe right now. How could somebody hurt him like that? "Wait, Dallon."

Dallon turned back to look at him. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I've been so mad at you lately."

Dallon shook his head, tears lingering in his eyes. "Water under the bridge, Bren. One thing at a time." And Brendon nodded, that sounded good. One thing at a time. He couldn’t handle more than one thing at a time. "I'll be right back, Urie."

Dallon disappeared and Brendon looked around the room, still sleepy and his headache piercing as his vision blurred and sharpened. His clothes were hung over the back of Dallon’s desk chair, his ripped and painted hand me down shirt, the one he’d smiled so wide at while making because it was his own idea, and he was feeling creative, and he knew it was going to be fun. He’d never been so great at predicting things.

He yawned, and it felt like he’d been sleeping for days. Maybe it was a side effect of the unsolicited drug. Maybe he’d just been tired for a while. He just wanted to have a good night. Why did it backfire so badly?

Dallon returned with a cup of water for Brendon a minute later, trying to smile though Brendon couldn’t find it in him to smile back. He made a noise that could have resembled a thank you and accepted it, not hesitating to down the whole thing as his throat burned. “There you go. You should hydrate. All that alcohol probably isn’t very good for you, tiny.”

“Yeah.” Brendon agreed, and sniffled as he pulled him into a hug again, overridden with guilt and trying to choke back tears. This shouldn’t have happened. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. "I’m sorry I made you go to that stupid party and that I drank and made stupid decisions. I wish I could take it all back. I'm so sorry I scared you."

"It's not your fault." Dallon pulled away and kissed his forehead, resting a hand on the back of his head, fingers nestled in the messy locks of hair. Not his fault? He’d practically set out that cup as a welcome mat for somebody to drug him. "C’mon. I wanna get you home. I want you to talk to your parents. Are you gonna be okay?”

“I’m sure.” He figured, but didn’t know how honest that was.

Brendon stared out at the road in front of him blankly, and he felt empty. Like a piece of him was missing. His memory, maybe, or just his dignity, and he couldn’t imagine what everyone was going to say. Diner boy can’t handle a drink. Diner boy getting drugged at a party because he doesn’t know how to take care of himself. How was he going to tell his parents?

He leaned his forehead against the cold glass of the window, feeling like he was unraveling.

“Are you okay?” Dallon asked quietly, and Brendon shook his head, closing his eyes because suddenly this city seemed to scare him. He reached out to pat his thigh gently, trying to help though he didn’t know how.

“Did you...” Brendon started, squirming in his seat as he tried to remember. “Did you tell me something about butterflies last night? Or did I dream that?”

“No, yeah, I did.” Dallon nodded, looking at him in shock because he didn’t realize he’d remember. “You asked me to tell you a story because I wanted to keep you awake. I told you about— about the botanical gardens, and how butterflies are like people. You said it was cute. I promised I’d show you my drawings of them.”

Brendon furrowed his brows like he was trying to remember more, but maybe it was better that he couldn’t. “Okay. I’m gonna hold you to that, then.” He sniffled, and reached out to take Dallon’s hand. You keep me sane, he thought, but this morning that was only worth so much.

Anxiety crawled in his stomach like a virus as Dallon pulled up in front of the diner. He sat still in his seat, because he didn’t want to go up, he didn’t want to talk to his parents, he didn’t want to do this. He stared ahead of him, pretending he couldn’t see that he was home, and Dallon’s voice came to him like there was a glass shield in between them, muffled and quiet and so far away. “Want me to walk you up?”

He shook his head, wiping his cheeks and going to grab his bag from the floor in front of him. “No. You should go home and get some sleep. Call me when you wake up.” He pushed the door open and leaned in to kiss his cheek, finding his hands trembling as they gripped the strap of his bag. "Thank you for everything. I appreciate it."

"Don't mention it." Dallon forced a smile, and Brendon didn’t bother forcing one back. He went to climb out of the car but stopped suddenly, feeling like he was stuck in place. He couldn’t go up there. He couldn’t.

He sat on the edge of his seat, hesitant, and turned to look at Dallon again. "I'm sorry I was thinking about breaking up with you." He added, because he felt like it had to be said. He hadn't realized how much of a mistake it would have been.

"I'm sorry I was thinking about breaking up with you too, Urie," Dallon said quietly, and Brendon sniffled. "It all seems so trivial now."

"Yeah, it does," Brendon agreed, reaching up to wipe his cheeks again. "I'll talk to you later."

“Okay. Good luck.” He wished, and Brendon closed the door, turning to nod in solidarity at him through the window as his eyes filled with tears. Dallon waited until he was inside to pull back out into the street, and even then Brendon watched him go, praying that they would understand. He just wanted a drink or two. This shouldn’t have gone so far.

He tightened his grip on his bag and headed up the stairs, holding onto the railing because he still felt so dizzy. Stair by stair, second by second, anxiety rose in his stomach and he felt like he was going to puke. It pulsed through his veins, crept into the spaces between his fragile ribs.

“Hello?” He called, dropping his bag in the front room and sliding off his sneakers. He could smell food, breakfast, coming in from the kitchen, so he followed it blindly.

He was drugged. He was drugged at a stupid high school party. He passed out in front of half the school, embarrassed himself and put himself in danger. He felt sick. When he said he wanted to make an impression, this wasn’t what he meant.

He crossed the threshold of the kitchen and both his parents were sitting at the table, waiting for him like he’d expected. He promised himself he would be strong, not cry, not scare them, but the second his mom stood up a sob wracked his body. He ran into her arms and she enveloped him, holding him close as his body trembled. “I’m sorry.” He cried, broken and remorseful.

“No, Bren, don’t be sorry. This isn’t your fault. You didn’t know.” She promised, petting his hair carefully.

He let out another cry, a pathetic whine against her chest. "But I drank too much and I-I wasn't careful. I should've been more careful."

"No, baby. You're not the one to blame. Listen to me." She pulled away with his face in her grasp and he stared at her, heartbroken. "It's not your fault."

His father got up and pulled him into a hug too, and Brendon couldn’t process it, the sympathy, the dizzy feeling, the ache in his bones. He wanted to forget it, but then again that might be worse. “Come on. Let’s talk about this.” His dad said, guiding him to the table. He hated confrontation, and the way he sat across from them like it were a therapy session, and the way they looked at him like they knew he was in pain made it hurt worse. He’d only woken up an hour ago. This was already happening too soon. How was he supposed to tell them what happened when he wasn't even sure himself?

“Okay. We know it just happened, babe, but can you tell us everything you remember? What was everything that happened last night? Just tell us what you know.”

He nodded minutely, feeling like he was being interrogated. ”Um. I don’t know. We showed up at the party and I got a drink. Dallon didn’t want one. So we danced, and I went upstairs and talked to my friend Ashley for a little while. When I went back downstairs I filled my cup again and went to the bathroom. Dallon offered to hold my drink and I said no cause I wanted to do something for myself. I put it on the table outside the door and I guess someone drugged it. Dallon says I was acting really strange and then passed out so he took me home. I don’t remember that much. But I literally only had like, two drinks. I didn’t think it would be that bad. But everything’s really fuzzy. I don’t, like, remember most of it. That’s all I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so stupid.”

He put his head in his hands and his parents exchanged worried glances, because they couldn’t do much with so little details. “It’s okay, Brendon, don’t apologize.” His father assured him, but Brendon just felt like a big disappointment to himself and his family and friends and Dallon. “It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself. We’re gonna call the doctor and go this afternoon. We’ll find out everything. We’ll find who did this.”

“Okay.” He sniffled, but he didn’t believe it.

“Okay. Go rest, baby. We’ll make you something to eat and call the doctor.” His mom pat his hand and he got up, feeling lightheaded as he stood. Regret pulsated through his tainted bloodstream as he followed his dignity out, but as he began to slip out of the kitchen and to the stairs he looked back at his parents. They watched him go, gut-wrenching sadness deep in their eyes. Why him? Why did it have to happen to him?

He climbed into bed and it felt like home, like it had been hours since he’d slept though he had all through the night. He found his phone in the pocket of borrowed sweatpants, he forgot where he’d put it, and went to check his messages with burning anxiety in his stomach. Everybody knew. Everybody had to know.

His screen lit up with notifications and he blinked away tears. Everyone was talking about him. Everyone— he sniffled as he scrolled through them, seeing tagged posts online, messages from his friends, and he could tell already. Everybody was going to be talking about him. Diner boy getting drugged and passing out at the senior Halloween party. Nothing would top that.

He wanted to not care. He really did. But as the screen blackened he stared himself in the eye, and it was his mistake. Whatever happened to him because of it was on him.

Josh: sorry about what happened man I hope you feel better let me know if you need to talk

BrenUrie: twelve new Twitter notifications!

BrenUrie: four new Instagram direct messages!

Ashley: hey I hope ur okay

Melanie: Brendon ily and I hope u feel better

BrenUrie: five new Snapchat notifications!

Ryan: text me when you can Bren

Ty: call me as soon as possible. I love you tiny

He clicked on Tyler’s message and didn’t bother reading the rest of the notifications, but took a detour to delete his Twitter app because word was spreading on social media like wildfire and he didn’t want to see it. He wanted to tell his friends that he was okay, wanted to ask them not to say anything but he couldn’t. He just clicked on Tyler’s number and pulled his blanket up to his chin, waiting for the line to connect.

"Hi, hoe." He greeted, voice too quiet and not sounding like his own.

Tyler let out a breath that sounded as if he'd been holding it for a month. "Hi, bitch. How are you?"

Brendon tilted his head to the side and twisted his fingers in the fringe of one of his throw blankets. “Really good. I’m thinking of signing up to run a marathon or something. Got so much extra energy.”

Tyler let out a half-hearted huff. “Now how are you really?”

Brendon sighed, ashamed at how idiotic he was. He was so stupid. How could he have been so stupid? "Sleepy. Weak. I don't remember what happened. I feel like my head doesn’t belong to me. Like my body doesn’t either. I feel like I’m walking around dismembered.”

Tyler was quiet for a second, and fleetingly Brendon wondered what had really happened when he couldn’t think straight. How bad did he look? Was everyone watching? Who knew what had happened? "You... don't remember passing out?"

"No, I don't. Was it bad?" He asked, and wiped tears from his cheeks because he couldn’t be so pathetic. He’d taken so much from this world. He’d been scared once. Threatened. He knew things could be worse. It was just harder when it was unexpected. But God wouldn’t give him something he couldn’t handle. That was what his parents used to say. God. Life. Whatever they wanted to call it.

He guessed he just never thought that life could throw this at him. Of course it would. Life didn’t stop for Brendon. Stupid boy, so naive.

Tyler stalled for a moment, leaving the line silent as he thought. Brendon knew he shouldn’t ask. Leave himself in the dark because it was easier that way. But when he got back to school, he had a lot to face. He didn’t want to be surprised. He was so sick of surprises. “Yeah.” He admitted, because he couldn’t lie when the whole world knew the truth. “Yeah, pretty bad.”

"Fuck." Brendon groaned, curling up into a ball as if it would make him exist less. If he didn’t exist, he couldn’t fuck up so much. "I'm such an idiot."

“No you’re not, Bren, stop. You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known that somebody fucked up your drink. I’m just glad we were there with you to stop anything worse from happening.”

He wiped his eyes again. "What do you mean?"

"It's a date rape pill, B. Whoever put it in your drink probably had the intention of raping someone. I'm surprised that it didn't happen to anybody else. And I'm glad it didn't. I'm glad it didn't happen to you."

"Oh." He looked around his room, and anxiety shot through his stomach. It could have been so much worse. He could have gotten hurt. At least he wasn’t hurt. On the outside, at least. “I just... I shouldn’t have been so careless. I’m literally never reckless, Tyler. I’m so cautious all the time. Just this one time. My parents told me a million times not to leave my drink alone at a party. It’s ingrained in our minds from birth. It’s the number one rule for going to parties. It just slipped my mind. And the worst part is that I can’t blame anyone but me because I don’t know who did it. I just need somebody to blame. I know I didn’t make whoever drugged me do it but I should’ve known not to put it down.”

Tyler sighed, but Brendon knew he was right. He couldn’t point fingers at a faceless stranger. "Dallon asked to take your drink, right? Why didn't you just let him? He wouldn't intentionally hurt you, you know."

Brendon made a noise of acknowledgment because out of everything that he remembered, that was it. His declining help. He should have just trusted him. "I know. I just... I wanted to like, prove that I can be independent. I didn't want Dallon to do everything for me. He's my boyfriend, not my babysitter. I feel like he’s always taking care of me. And I know he doesn’t mind, but that’s not the point. I’m seventeen, Tyler. I should be able to take care of myself. I shouldn’t need my boyfriend to watch every move I make. It’s cliché and unfair and pathetic.”

"Brendon, everyone needs someone to take care of them sometimes.” He lamented, and Brendon scrubbed at his face with his sweatshirt sleeve. “You're no different."

That was the thing. Brendon was so different. He was worse. "I feel like I need to be taken care of all the time, though. It doesn't ever fucking end. I just wanted to make one choice on my own and do one thing right. I wanted one thing.”

“But that doesn’t make you dependent on him, Brendon. You’re independent in some ways, and in other ways you’re not. That’s okay. Not everybody can be completely autonomous. I mean, you can’t say someone isn’t independent because they ask someone they trust to hold their cup. You don’t want to end up in a bad place because you don’t accept help.”

“I’m just so sick of having to ask for help.” He sighed, and it felt like it was all he did these days. Tyler sighed too, and Brendon could feel him shaking his head, but he said nothing because Brendon was a lost cause. He knew that. Tyler had been trying to change that for years. “Hey, anyway, um. Thank you for helping me. And could you tell Josh thanks too? I’ll talk to him when I can, I just don’t have the energy right now.”

“Of course, Brendon.” He promised, and Brendon squinted his eyes closed, tugged his blanket up over his face, and he could feel his sympathy. He just wanted to hide until it was all over. “Hey, so I heard that like, no one went to school.” He changed the subject, reading his mind. “I think everyone was way too hungover.”

“I bet Ryan did.” Brendon figured, wished he had listened to him because he had practically given him every warning. He shouldn’t have even gone to that stupid party. He shouldn’t have thought it would turn out any other way than it did. “He’s so lucky. He never feels pressured to do all the cliché high school bullshit that everyone expects you to do to be cool.”

“I know what you mean, tiny.” Tyler agreed. Brendon yawned, wiping at his face, and it felt right because he was tired of this. Tired of trying to fit in and getting hurt in the long run. He was just trying not to be such an outcast. “On the bright side, at least now you know. Next time you’ll be more careful.”

“There is no next time. I never want to do something like this again. I don’t see how I could let myself. I’m gonna be smarter from now on.” He insisted. Be smarter. Every voice in his head screamed it when he closed his eyes. Be smarter. Be smart. He didn’t think he was that idiotic.

“Okay. If that’s what you want.” Tyler complied, and Brendon made a noise of acknowledgment, already half asleep because he was still so tired and not really caring about the baby voice he was getting. He’d slept dreamlessly the night before but now he was scared to close his eyes again. Scared to picture a reality that he prayed wasn’t his. “Hey, I’m gonna let you go. You should rest. Text me later and we can talk.”

Brendon opened his mouth to protest but words died on his teeth because they tasted too forced. He didn’t want to be alone because he was scared. He was so scared. But he was scared to open up, too, and he didn’t know what to do with that. “Okay.” He peeped. Rest would do him good. “Okay. Thanks for talking to me. I’ll see you later, Ty. Bye.” He hung up and buried his face in his pillow as he drifted off again, eyes blurring the nightmares pressing against his eyelids.

He woke up a few hours later to his mother rubbing his arm and he stirred for a long minute, still dizzy and drowsy as he tried to remember, the remnants of a bad dream bleeding on his sheets. “Hey, honey, get up. We’re going to the hospital.” She said quietly, like a soft tone would make it better, mask the wrong he’d done, the mistakes he’d made. He rubbed his eyes and reached out to grab his glasses, but didn’t protest as she gestured for him to follow.

He sat in the backseat of the car with his forehead against the glass, daring to check his phone when the scenery got predictable. Dallon had left no messages but his friends had, though he ignored them and went to find Twitter in his browser because he couldn’t help it. They had to know. They had to be talking about him. He couldn’t stand not knowing.

Diner boy passed out at a party. Go figure.

“It’s trending locally on Twitter.” He announced before promptly shutting off his phone and tossing it onto the seat beside him. “I pass out at a party and it’s a trend on Twitter.”

“Twitter is just a stupid app, Brendon. Don’t pay any mind to it.” His father said from the driver’s seat, looking at him in the rearview mirror. “Don’t let strangers on the internet have control over you.”

“It’s hard not to when that’s all I’m seeing.” He muttered, but kept quiet as he tried to get his story straight. It was all a blur. He needed to tell them everything, his mother had said as she led him to the car. They needed everything he could remember.

He felt faint, and let his eyes fall shut until they pulled into the hospital parking lot.

He knew what was going to happen when he got back to school. Everybody was going to make assumptions. People he’d never spoken to would ask if he was okay. His friends would watch him like a hawk and their prey, his world would turn into a lab, he’d never be left alone. He knew. He just wished everything wasn’t going to change so fast.

A nurse guided him into a room, made small talk, but he hardly answered. Didn't see the need for conversation right now. She gave him a few minutes to change and he let his mind wander until the doctor stepped in, holding a clipboard. He bumped his socked heels against the exam table, staring at the poster on the wall as she talked at him. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d wanted to forget until he was forced to remember every detail.

What time was the consumption of the drug? I don't know. Can you give us an estimate? I don't know... eleven thirty? Good. Were you with friends? Yes. Do you recall what happened right before the accident? Not really. Can you elaborate? It was blurry. I was dizzy and I couldn't think straight. Okay. Do you recall anything between the time you were drugged and when you woke up in the morning? A conversation I had with my boyfriend on the drive home. Vaguely. Were you given medical attention right away? No. I was with my boyfriend and our friends. They didn't know what to do. They thought I would get in trouble for having alcohol. I'm a minor. You won't get a penalty, Brendon, we care about your safety. Okay. Okay. Did you drink the entire contaminated beverage? Yes. Did you wake up in an unusual place? No. Did you suspect that somebody could have taken advantage of you in your unconscious state? No. Are you sure? Yes. Okay. Just to be on the safe side, we're going to use a rape kit and take a urine sample. What for? I wasn't raped. Just to be sure, Brendon. The urine sample is to see what drug was given to you.

He didn’t need a rape kit, he’d told them, and he felt somehow even more violated when they did it regardless. He sat in the waiting room holding his mother’s hand, a bandaid on his arm where they had taken blood and his cheeks stained an angry red from the tears.

In another secluded room Brendon’s vision focused on a perfect square tile on the floor, listening to the doctor speak at him and his parents as he almost managed to miss what she was saying. It felt like one of those school meetings he had to sit in with his parents when he was doing bad in a class. Like a lecture. Like he had done something wrong. What to do with little Brendon Urie, the boy who took things too far and made uncountable mistakes?

His heart pounded and he felt empty, emptier than he already had been, as she said, “We thought this would be the case, but we found traces of Rohypnol. It’s a good thing we caught it. Normally it leaves the body sooner than this. You’re lucky, Brendon. With your height and weight and the amount of the drug you consumed with alcohol, you could have died. It would have been ideal to get you to the hospital right away, but the people who took care of you did well. I can’t believe this didn’t turn out worse than it did, quite frankly.”

Brendon began to play with a loose thread on his stolen sweater, staring apathetically at her because it was either that or crying. "What do I do about this information? Knowing the drug I was given doesn't change anything." He replied dully.

"Brendon." His mother asserted with a firm hand on his shoulder.

“No, that’s okay.” She excused it and Brendon’s mother retracted her hand slowly. “You’re right, Brendon. This doesn’t change anything. However, it is very important to know what’s going on with your body. On the bright side there won’t be any long-term effects. In a week we’re gonna wanna see you again to see how you’re doing. Other than that, that’s all we have for you.”

Brendon folded his arms over his chest and fought back tears, squirming uncomfortably in his seat. "What is... what's it called?"

"Rohypnol?" A nod. "It's what we classify as a date rape pill. They can be really serious. In some countries they’re used as sleeping pills but here they’re illegal. In some cases they can cause death, or seizures, you know. They harm more than they help. You might know them as roofies."

He ducked his head to twist his hair in between his fingertips anxiously. "Yeah, I've heard that." He muttered, not meeting her eyes.

"Your school is going to be contacted to find whoever did this to you. These things are taken very seriously. In the meantime try to hang in there, Brendon. Stay cautious and treat your body well, okay?”

“Yeah.” He stood up and hugged his jacket to his chest, his mother following hesitantly. “Okay. Yeah. Thanks.” He nodded his head at her, and his mother wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Treat his body well. He wanted to. He really did.

He stared up at the dinosaur holding a cake in the dark because he was too scared to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes his mind went to that place. That scary place, the one where he’d made up the skeletons in his closet, and all his other irrational fears. He had tried for so long not to go there again.

His mom knocked on everyone’s doors to wake them up that morning with a sing-song voice that Brendon would have loved if it wasn’t so early and he wasn't so sad. He got up, dizzy tired, he wasn’t sure he’d even really slept at all, and got ready slowly, throwing on a pink sweatshirt and leggings, denying breakfast and going to stand outside in the cold to wait for Dallon’s car to pull up in front of him.

“Morning.” He greeted as Brendon climbed into the passenger seat, leaning in to kiss his cheek as he dropped his bag on the floor and pulled the door shut behind him. “How’d you sleep?”

"Scarcely. What about you?"

“Same.” Dallon pulled out into the street and Brendon leaned his head against the window despondently. It was his fault. Everything was his fault.

He watched the city pass by as they slipped into silence. He’s passed the same streets every day but every once in a while he noticed something new. A sign for an open mic night on Fridays, stuck in the window of a cafe. Maybe in another lifetime he’d go, sit out in the crowd and encourage Dallon to get up on stage and sing because he always did, in the shower, making breakfast when his mom wasn’t home, under his breath doing homework without even realizing it. Dallon thought he could sing too, would probably pull him up on stage to duet.

But Brendon felt like if he were on stage then nobody would be listening. Standing center stage with the spotlight beating down on him, looking out into a room full of people who knew him but didn’t know him. A sea of heads and bodies, hands, intentions... no, nobody would listen.

"I was roofied." He said quietly, his voice too quiet and almost breaking.

Dallon twisted to look at him. "What?"

"You know, the drug. It-"

"I know what a roofie is. Fuck," Dallon sighed, and shook his head like he was trying to clear it. "This sucks. I'm sorry. I don't even know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything." Brendon rested his head back against the seat and his head hurt like someone was drumming inside his ear. “Look. Uh. I know that you want to take care of me, and everything, but I really just want you to treat me normally. This is all really hard to cope with. I need to do this without you looking at me differently.”

Dallon felt guilty all of a sudden and Brendon could see his shoulders tense. “Okay. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"That's alright." Brendon reached out to take his hand for compensation, tangling their fingers together inextricably as Dallon looked down at him. “It was fucking awful, Dallon. I had to pee in a cup and get blood taken, which I fucking hate, and they did a rape kit. I told them that I knew I wasn’t raped but they did it anyway. It was terrible, and scary, and it took forever, and they told me that I could have died. You took good care of me, but I was really lucky that I didn’t need medical attention right away. In a nutshell.”

Dallon ran his thumbnail over the top of Brendon’s hand. “I would have taken you to the hospital right away. I should have. I just... I panicked.”

“No, it’s okay. I think you did alright. I’m okay. As okay as I can be.” Brendon assured him, didn’t want him to feel guilty because Dallon wasn’t the one at fault here.

“I guess no one is perfect. We just have to live and learn.” He figured, trying to see the bright side though Dallon has never been so good at that.

Brendon sighed, and when he turned to look at him he could see undeniable fear in his eyes. He understood. He was scared too. "No kidding."

Brendon wasn't on stage, but the spotlight still seemed to be on him. As he stepped on campus everyone looked his way, Dallon’s hand on his back, and they weren’t the usual stares, the diner boy stared, they were sympathy stares, or judgment stares, or stares of disbelief because how could he be so stupid?

Half of these people didn’t even know him. Didn’t know his name or the real story or anything except what they wanted to hear.

Pathetic. He was pathetic.

"Brendon."

Dallon's voice caught his attention and he turned, away from his peers as they watched him like it were a Disney channel original movie. "Huh?"

"Just ignore them."

Ignore them. Sure. He could do that. Pretend that up there on stage wasn’t all his potential for failure laid out in front of him for the crowd to see. Now was their cue to point and laugh. But no one was laughing, and no one was pointing. Whispering, yes. Staring, well. Every pair of eyes was on him and Dallon, who stood defiant at his side like a suit of armor. How could he ignore them?

Brendon tightened his grip on Dallon's arm and kept his head down. It was just eight hours. Eight hours, and then he could hide.

He was going to be known as the boy that got drugged his first time ever having a drink. He wanted a cooler title. He wanted anything but that.

He watched his boots walk beside Dallon’s yellow laced ones in the hall, stepping in time because sometimes they lived in sync. Eight hours.

“Brendon. I, uh. I wasn’t expecting you to come back so soon.” Ashley said in lieu of a greeting as he sat beside her in class, keeping his head down as everybody’s gazes followed him to his classroom. “I was going to apologize to you for having to see me half naked Sunday but now that seems kind of trivial. Are you okay?”

“No.” He admitted in a whisper, and put his head down on his desk to hide his face. She said nothing else, just stared at his back and went to rub it but stopped, knowing he probably didn’t want to be touched. He squeezed his eyes shut against his forearm, tried hard not to cry, and she was right, he shouldn’t have come back. This was a mistake.

Brendon was sitting at his lunch table that afternoon poking at something inedible on his tray when a familiar girl approached him slowly, reaching out to tap his shoulder but deciding against it. "Brendon, right?" She asked, and he nodded hesitantly, not exactly unused to the attention but still shocked someone he'd never met who had never bullied him knew his name. "Hi, um. My name is Tabitha. I threw the senior Halloween party. I just... I wanted to apologize for what happened to you. I never would have thrown it if I knew someone was going to get hurt."

"Oh." He sat back, shaking his head and feeling embarrassed that someone everyone knew was talking to him out there in plain sight with everyone to see. "No, uh, it wasn't your fault. Not at all. Everyone throws parties."

"No, I know. I just feel bad, is all. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help, Brendon." She said, and waved apologetically as she took off toward her table.

"That was nice." Tyler mused when she was gone, and Brendon hid his face in his hands, realizing that he was officially the boy that got drugged at the high school party because he didn't know not to take his eyes off his drink.

“Fuck.” He groaned, and Dallon pat his back, looking up at his friends uselessly. He didn’t want the attention. He had never asked for any attention in the first place. He didn’t want apologies and people asking if he was okay and for everyone to check on him. This wasn’t a part of his perfect senior year.

As if the pushed back due dates and looks of sympathy weren’t enough, the diner was full that afternoon and by then everyone had heard. He was trending locally on Twitter, after all; he supposed he should be proud of himself but instead he felt sick as he tugged on his apron, looked away from his peers as he took their orders, and eventually asked his mother if he could stay behind the counter because he couldn’t do it today.

People were staring at him and he didn’t know if they were laughing at him or sympathizing. Being disgustingly nice or judging him. Diner boy with his nail polish and glasses and perpetual nervous disposition didn’t understand. He’d never gotten that many smiles from people he’d seen or tips from boys that were only in his freshman year health class. He didn’t know them, but they definitely knew him. At least now they did. Everyone did.

Brendon was filling a glass with fountain soda when the bell on the door jingled, catching his attention as he turned to give his signature fake smile. But Dallon gave him a genuine one and Ryan did too, smiles he didn’t have to question, and he set down the glass to cross the counter, pulling Ryan into a hug as he hadn’t seen him in days.

“Hi. Where were you today?” He asked in a sigh, relieved as the sympathy was getting under his skin.

“I stayed home. My stomach hurt. It’s not contagious or anything.” He pulled away with a hand firm and assuring on Brendon’s shoulder. “I missed you, though. I wanted to come visit. I brought you the astronomy homework that you missed.”

“Oh, I have yours too. It’s in my bag upstairs, I’ll get it on my break. Are you guys gonna stay?” He crossed back around the counter, patting Dallon’s side as he went.

“Yeah, I want lunch.” He slid into the seat beside the one Dallon had claimed, smiling after Brendon as he finished filling the abandoned glasses. When he thought Brendon wasn’t looking Dallon elbowed Ryan in the side, but Brendon turned to look again, raising an eyebrow skeptically as Ryan threw his hands out. “What?! I’m not gonna treat him like something bad happened. Brendon, do you want to be treated like something bad happened?”

Brendon shook his head. "I would prefer not to be."

Ryan gestured toward Dallon emphatically to prove his point. "Exactly. So I'm not going to. Have a little respect, Dal, c’mon.”

“Okay, I’m sorry! Point taken. I just care about you. You can’t judge me for that.”

“Not judging you,” Brendon assured him, and carried the glass of soda to the woman at the end of the counter before Dallon could get a word in. He pouted after Brendon, petulant to a fault, and didn’t bother to smile when he turned back around. Ryan looked through the menu, ignoring them now, and Brendon knew he couldn’t do that. Get upset that people cared. He knew that if they didn’t he would be even more upset. It wasn’t Dallon’s fault. He just happened to be the one that cared the most. Contritely, Brendon added, “I love you, Dallon, and I appreciate the fact that you care and want to look out for me but this is freaking me out. I can’t do this if you treat me the way everyone else is treating me.”

“Okay.” Dallon put his hands up in surrender and Brendon sighed, turning to grab him a menu.

“I want the usual,” Ryan said, sliding his own menu back toward him, and Brendon pulled out his pad.

“Me too.” Dallon agreed, and Brendon added that, having served them enough to know it by heart. He liked work. Work was monotonous. He didn’t have to think about it.

“Not gonna switch it up?” He asked, slipping his father the order through the window and calling out the monikers of the meals.

“Nah, not today. My stomach is angry and it wouldn’t appreciate the change.” He folded his hands on the table matter-of-factly, watching with a half smile as Brendon went to grab two glasses. “Orange soda today.”

"Yes sir." Brendon turned again, his hands maneuvering on automatic as he filled the glasses with ice. “Mama, alani.” He called to the other side of the counter, the orange soda was getting low, and filled Dallon’s with Dr. Pepper.

“Mahalo, keiki.” She scribbled down a note and waved to his friends, too busy to say hi because during the middle of the week, the diner always seemed to be crowded.

“Hey, Bren?” Dallon caught his attention and Brendon placed their glasses down, digging into his apron to find two straws. “I swear this is the last annoying thing I'm gonna ask, but, um... why are you working right now?"

Brendon took a sip of Dallon's drink before he could himself. "I asked if I could. I wanna get my mind off of everything, y'know? Gives me something to do. I make money while I keep myself occupied. Win win situation.”

"I get it." Dallon snatched the drink from his hand and took a sip, raising an eyebrow when Brendon did too. “Hey, why don’t you come eat with us? Take a break.” He pat the seat beside him.

"That's not how work... y'know, works.” He tried to smile back. He knew Dallon’s smiles, knew them inside and out and backward and forward and through and through, and he knew when they were forced. The whole world was forcing smiles at him. He preferred the real ones. He just had to pick and choose these days. “But I'll ask my mom if I can take my break now."

He disappeared into the kitchen and Ryan and Dallon exchanged looks, not daring to say a word because Brendon made it clear not to talk about him. Everybody else was already talking about him.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t recognize the shift. The shift, the one where everyone treated him differently because they were guilty, or trying to feel good about themselves, or wanted to help but didn’t know how. Getting deadlines pushed at school, the TV remote when he wanted it, getting to pick dinner despite the whole family having to compromise. He felt like royalty, except the riches he was sitting on were dirty and blood ridden.

He didn’t mind it so much at home. He knew they were trying to help. But then he got to school, where his peers stared, whispered, labeled him in a box he didn’t think he fit in, or maybe now he did. Little diner boy Urie, drugged at a party, passed out, having a hard time coping.

He used to fear his name in people’s mouths. He hadn’t realized that this was just as bad as the bullying. Maybe worse. The sympathy of strangers made his skin crawl and he felt sick as he tried to keep his head down in the halls.

Boulder City was a small place. This was a small school. Something this bad hadn’t happened in decades. He knew it’d get him attention, and now even his bullies were pulling back. He never asked anybody to treat him special. It just happened, the pity party, and eventually he had become popular, or so it seemed. He’d never wanted to be popular, actually. He grew up isolated and spent almost eighteen years trying to go unnoticed.

This was a high schooler’s wet dream. It should have been comforting. A bad experience got publicity. All publicity is good publicity, they said on TV. Attention and fame and everybody knowing his name. It would have been perfect for any other high schooler but not Brendon Urie.

He just wanted to get out of the spotlight. He felt like he was famous, being begged to give autographs, everybody watching his every move like he was about to snap but hoping they could be the first one to capture it. He didn’t want everybody knowing him. He didn’t want them feeling bad for him, either.

Those sympathetic eyes. Those meaningless apologies. His teachers checking in with him because even they had heard. He bristled away from it all, uncomfortably numb and dissatisfied with the sudden attention. It disgusted him. How could they care about him now when just days ago they hardly knew his name? People were even offering to let him copy their homework. It was all going too far.

Something had shifted in Brendon after what had happened at the Halloween party. He didn't know what it was but all of his spirit had been broken, the lightbulb behind his eyes dulled, and suddenly there was nothing left. His stomach churned gut wrenchingly, his head spun, his bones aches, and he didn’t know what to do. What was happening under his skin.

The night had triggered another side of him that he hadn’t been wholly aware of. Maybe partially, though he’d denied it, pretended it wasn’t there for so long that it came back as a shock. His inexplicable anxiety. Who wanted to admit to that?

He really thought he could trick everyone into thinking he was happy. He wasted his time tucking his worries and fears and doubts into the tiny spaces in his bones only for them to claw their way out. He was too tired to fight anymore.

He avoided confrontation. Lied about his anxiety. Tried to shut it out or sleep it away or anything, desperate, but it wouldn’t stop. The world spun fast and Brendon was stuck in one place, letting himself get dizzier and dizzier but never shifting his vision to close and rub at his eyes.

Six months ago they had all said that something was wrong. Long before that, too. Everyone had known and he had too, but denied its existence because it was easier than admitting he was a failure. They hadn’t said it and he hadn’t either, but they all knew. He should have listened. He had clung so desperately to his pride that now that it was gone, he was grasping at nothing, trying to win his battles but ending up wounded.

Still everybody tried, putting on those fake happy faces as he was so used to doing himself. He hadn’t realized how much of a liar he was until it drained him. How much of a liar everybody else was, too. But they were trying. Keeping up their typical routine. Tyler greeted him cheerfully in the halls and Ryan asked how he was doing in class and Dallon would hold his hand defiantly like a double dare, and it wouldn’t fix things but it would help. He couldn’t be upset that they were treating him normally because he had asked them to.

That wasn’t to say that the pressing image ingrained of sympathetic gazes and obvious whispers didn’t hurt, because they did. They stung, actually, like salt in an open wound, uncauterized because the doctors couldn’t do their jobs.

A week into November, the whispers had yet to fade. He knew it was bound to last but he wasn’t prepared for it. He didn’t know how he possibly could be. The words hurt, slashed his skin like a knife and hit bone, as he tried to get to class and heard conversations abruptly stop as he approached. He knew it was going to last. It was the only major thing to happen at their school for a while. Pair that with his being one of the only openly gay students and somebody everyone knew and liked to pick on already, and he might as well have been on the cover of the school paper.

His skin crawled and he prayed he’d get out of it, or that this would stop, or that something would erase his memory because it was all that he could think about. The humiliation. The idiocy. The danger that he had put himself in. When it all came down to it, he had done what everybody told him not to do. He put his cup down at a party. He let it happen. He couldn’t even be mad because he was the one who had done it to himself.

"What are you doing after school?" Ryan's voice came to him in a blur, as if he were underwater and the auditory waves couldn't reach him through the riptide. He sounded a million miles away, though he was just barely parted from Brendon's left side. He may not have been underwater but he felt like he was drowning.

"Uh, doctor's appointment." Brendon's voice sounded foreign to himself, his mind foggy and bones aching. Tears built up in his throat and he had to cough them away, couldn’t even process his own words. What if it was always like this?

Ryan's shoulders slumped. "Okay. Darn it. We were gonna go downtown since it's Monday, no one'll be out. But maybe this weekend, then? We all wanna go out for lunch."

He tensed up and didn’t bother hiding it. Human interaction made his stomach churn. But Ryan was looking at him with such hopeful eyes and Brendon was terrible, really, such a horrible person. “Maybe.” He offered, though he didn’t mean it. He didn’t want to go out. Going out meant getting hurt. He didn’t want to do that to himself anymore.

Ryan was quiet for a second as they walked side by side, the halls growing quieter as people stepped into their respective classes. Brendon avoided eye contact as he watched his dirty, differently laced converse sneakers walk beside Ryan’s clean vans, but the silence had never been louder and the unspoken word had never been clearer. Each word he said these days held a different meaning. He didn’t have to say it. Ryan knew.

He nudged Brendon’s arm and Brendon looked back at him, guilt written all over his face, wondering how he even still had friends. If everyone was pretending, pitying him. He would be okay if they were. Really. He had grown up without friends and he knew how it felt to go through a hard time without him. But Ryan didn’t look at him with pity or conviction, just forgiveness, and then again maybe he didn’t have friends once upon a time but he did when it mattered.

"Hey, don’t feel obligated to do anything you don't wanna do. Go at your own pace. I'll see you later."

"Thank you, Ryan." Gratefully Brendon nodded, and Ryan nodded back in solacement before he ducked into his next classroom.

Tears threatened to fall once more as Brendon was alone again, starting down the hallway unescorted to where their unfinished senior mural stood and Dallon was already down on one knee, busy in opening a canister of yellow paint. The bell sounded and the halls cleared out, and at the sound of timid footsteps and sad brown hues Dallon pushed himself up to stand. “Hi, comrade.”

"Hi," Brendon opened his arms so Dallon hugged him, dropping his unused paintbrush and holding him close against his chest. His eyes burned with tears and his throat felt hot but he wouldn’t let himself cry. Not at school. Not anymore. He took a deep breath, pulling away, and asked, “how is the mural coming?”

"Good." Dallon turned around to look up at it with a hand on Brendon's back. It really was coming along, striped with a sketched-out background and some bright splotches of paint here and there. "Good. You wanna help?"

Brendon forced a smile and whatever was left of his excess energy thrummed in his nerve endings and fizzled out when Dallon smiled back at him warmly. That should have made him feel better. Anything should have made him feel better. Dallon has always been a silver lining. Now it seemed that the shine of the silver had faded to gray, and Brendon couldn’t tell the difference between the gray areas and the rest of it. "I think you forgot that I have the artistic ability of a squirrel."

"Squirrels are super artistic. You ever see that video of the squirrel that carved a pumpkin?" Furrowing his eyebrows fondly, Brendon shook his head, and Dallon rubbed a hand against his upper back. "No? I'm gonna show you that later. Come on." Dallon crouched down to snatch two paintbrushes and handed one to his boyfriend, who watched but didn't say a word as Dallon uncapped a few canisters of paint, showing him how to get the paint on the brush and starting to make thin stripes on the wall. "Just like this. Tap off the excess paint first."

Brendon imitated what he was doing. "Like this?"

"Yeah, you got it," Dallon praised, pointing with his paintbrush. “Every third line is yellow. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Brendon promised, and started painting underneath where Dallon had.

He tilted his head as he watched the bristles on the brush swipe color onto the wall, let his vision blur and sharpen and fixate on the way his thumb settled against the groove of the brush, how his wrist moved smoothly to smear color onto an otherwise dull wall. Maybe that was what Dallon loved about art, masking something ugly with something beautiful. Remedying what needed it. And though it was hardly an elucidation to how he needed to let the wounds heal, it did precede what he thought to be true: he needed to be remedied too.

Brendon was silent as he watched Dallon start on a harder part of the mural, not bothering to show Brendon how though art had never been Brendon’s province of expertise, anyway, so he stuck to the background as he was so used to. He could see where Dallon found comfort in it, the palliative nature of creation, how simplistic it could be. How reminding of the world’s ability to fix things it was. Sometimes it wasn’t always black and white. Sometimes it had a little pop of color. Sometimes it was gray.

"Hey, Dallon?"

Dallon turned to look at him, brushing a bright blue onto the wall. "Yeah?"

"Does it get any easier?"

Dallon paused all motion for a second as solicitous eyes stared at him for answers he couldn’t give. He stopped painting just then, twisted his body to face Brendon. He nodded, and Brendon had no choice but to believe him. Because something in his eyes was so delineating. Like he could commiserate on a level that no one else would. "Yeah. You know why?"

"Why?"

He bent down to dip his fingers in the black paint and drew lines on Brendon’s cheeks, war paint, a gesture that maybe meant more. “Because you’re a warrior, Brendon. And you’re gonna get through this just like you get through everything else.”

Brendon’s lips tilted up in a smile and Dallon was looked at him like he were some champion. A virtuoso in a game that Brendon hadn’t even known he was playing. The truth was that he was always just on the sidelines, his spirit quiescent and now disparaged, suborned into hiding. How could he return then? "I have to go the rest of the day with this on my face, you know."

"Well," Dallon paused to imitate the marks on his skin, and Brendon’s eyes softened. "I'm on your side."

"I..." Brendon paused, didn't even know what to say, so when the words died behind his teeth he pulled Dallon into a hug. Prayed he knew. Sometimes his appreciation was ineffable. But it was refining, too. Purifying in such an ambiguous way. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Dallon rubbed his back and held him tight, looking up past his shoulder unseeingly as Brendon tucked himself away to hide.

Dallon wanted to protect him, vowed to himself that he would, but some things were more complicated than that. Because past his arms where Brendon had made a safety net, and past the eight walls of their bedrooms and past their front doors and the screens of their phones and the windows that kept out the rain, there was a world where Dallon didn’t have control. Couldn’t have control. But still, he prayed for Brendon, prayed for the rehabilitation in his own skin, where he suddenly felt uncomfortable and unwelcome. All he wanted was to feel safe again.

He pulled away with both hands on Brendon’s shoulders suddenly and pressed his lips against his forehead, not mentioning the tears in Brendon’s eyes. "Now seriously, I need some help."

Brendon forced a smile, but some of it was there. Some of it wasn’t. Baby steps. "Alright."

A senior was drugged at a party. Brendon Urie, seventeen and small and strangely well known in the small community of his neighborhood in Boulder City, was drugged at a party. That was something that hadn’t happened there. At least not for a long time. Like slow motion, he had made a mistake, though somebody else did too. The only problem was that no one knew who. He wished he could have that luxury, to be left unnamed, as it all seemed so stupidly obvious. Don’t put your drink down at a party. Don’t leave it unattended. Stupid. He was so stupid.

It had been a constant battle with himself as he tried so badly to make sense of the situation like he did everything else. Whoever had drugged him hadn't meant for it to be Brendon, right? They saw an opportunity in the form of a filled cup and they took it. It was just embarrassing. Because Brendon was the one who drank out of the contaminated cup. He was the one that messed up. He had to deal with that. Everybody else around him did too.


	33. Chapter 32: A Probable Death Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see! This thing has been done forever but I keep forgetting to post lol. I'm just gonna post a chunk of chapters at a time!  
> Also, I'm selling a different, real version of Remedied. Let me know if you'd like to buy book 1 of 3 in paperback or ebook form!

Brendon’s mom was there to pick him up when school ended, so Dallon walked him to the car with a protective arm around him. Brendon never asked him to be a bodyguard, to protect him, but Dallon just knew. Dallon always knew those kinds of things. Still, Brendon could walk himself to the car. He could walk himself to the car, and he could put on a brave face, and he could step through the crowds of students hopping down the front stairs without having a panic attack. He just... chose not to.

“Hi, Grace.” Dallon smiled at Brendon’s mom as Brendon busied himself in sliding his backpack off of one shoulder, pulling the passenger side door open and tossing it in like routine. “How are you?”

“Hi, honey. I’m doing well. How was school?” She asked, leaning forward against the steering wheel to smile up at him. He shrugged one shoulder, resting a hand on Brendon’s side when Brendon went to kiss him goodbye.

“School was school. Bren helped me with the mural a little bit. You got any artist’s blood in you?” He rubbed Brendon’s side, not wanting to let him go.

“Nope. Culinary genes is all. But it’s good to expand your horizons, Bren. See what you’re good at.” She said hopefully, but Brendon sighed, patting Dallon’s chest and turning to slide into the passenger seat.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m gonna be up in a gallery anytime soon.” He forced a smile up at Dallon, a thank you of some sort, because the words didn’t seem to come out.

“Hm.” She turned the car on again, patting her son’s thigh. “Thank you for taking care of him, Dal.”

“Mom.” Brendon shook his head, embarrassed, but Dallon just smiled back at his boyfriend’s mother like she had granted him an important role. Brendon never understood their camaraderie.

“Of course. He has my heart.” He tapped Brendon on the shoulder, and their eyes met. “Break a leg, bumblebee.”

“I’ll be at the doctor’s already if I do.” Brendon returned weakly, and Dallon smiled back in the way that reminded Brendon of his vitality. He did take care of him. That really mattered, even when he didn’t know how to say it. They exchanged goodbyes, and Dallon headed toward the parking lot as Brendon’s mother took off in the direction of the doctor’s office.

"What's up with the face paint?" She asked after a few minutes, turning to look at the black lines of paint on his cheeks. He squirmed in his seat, trying to get comfortable, awaiting another checkup to see how he was doing after the incident, that was what they were calling it. He didn’t see the point. He was fucked up; he already knew that much. He didn’t need doctors to tell him that too.

"Dallon, just being sweet." He leaned his forehead against the glass, watching cars pass by.

"As cute as that is, you're going to the doctor’s, you have to wash it off. I have baby wipes in the glove compartment." She nodded her head toward it. Brendon hesitated, didn’t want to wipe it away. It was a symbol of his strength, given to him by one of the only people who really believed in him. But she was right. He didn’t want to get any more weird looks. Everybody judged him enough already. He reached into the driver’s compartment unsteadily, searching for the packet for a moment before he found it.

It was a perfect metaphor. His strength, being washed away again.

As his mom turned onto fifth street he wiped his cheeks with a baby wipe, feeling more infantile than ever, and pulled the overhead mirror down to check for residue. He looked like a child, with a baby face and big, sad eyes. He balled the wipe up in his fist and pushed the mirror back up again. He didn’t need to see himself right now. He just looked... tragic.

“Good boy.” She pat his knee and he made a noise but didn’t respond, didn’t feel the need. He just tore apart the wipe in his hand. Regret that he got rid of the only evidence that someone had faith in him, though he guessed he didn’t need evidence. He knew.

After having stirred up enough anxiety for the entire waiting room as he hid in the corner and sat awkwardly on his hands, Brendon’s name was called from the doorway. He held onto his mother’s arm like a child when he followed the nurse to the exam room, she always joined him during his checkups. It made him look like a baby but the doctor’s office scared him; it always had. Even before everything else did.

But things were different now. She told him to get undressed and he folded his arms uncomfortably, bristling away when she handed him that ugly burgundy gown. “Your mom can wait in the waiting room, Brendon, if you’d like. They have some personal questions to ask you.” The nurse offered, getting him settled.

His mother opened her mouth to protest, he didn’t do well alone, but Brendon assured her, “I’ll be fine.”

She looked between him and the nurse with hesitance, but gave him a hug before she followed her out of the room, leaving him to change.

His eyes lingered longingly on the door as he was left alone again, in an unfamiliar room with too white walls, doctor’s offices always felt so empty. He could feel his throat burn with tears as he pulled off his clothes, pulling on that ugly gown and pushing himself up to sit on the exam table. He hated the doctor’s, hated the uncomfortable gown and the awkward draft and the wash your hands poster above the sink. He hated needles and weird gadgets that peeked inside of him, he hated the questions they had to ask. He hated having to confront what he’d spent days shutting out.

He swung his legs back and forth as he kicked at his own feet with his socks, awkwardly staring downward until his doctor poked her head in to check if he was decent. “Hi, Brendon. How are you?” She asked, and he shrugged, already uncomfortable.

“Okay.” He said, a blatant lie, and she hummed in return, knew he wasn’t telling the truth but didn’t push him.

As she checked his vitals, took his blood pressure, made sure his eyes and ears were doing their job, she made painful small talk, mostly about school. No, he wasn’t part of any clubs. No, he didn’t play any sports. No, he didn’t have a college in mind. It was all just a reminder that he wasn’t exactly kicking the year’s ass.

"Alrighty, Brendon, I just wanna ask you a couple of important questions." She sat down in her rolling chair, grabbing a clipboard from her desk. "You're seventeen, yes?"

Brendon pushed his legs together and adjusted the gown he had to wear self-consciously. "Yes."

"Alright. So, if I recall correctly, you were here a few months ago for an STD test?" He nodded minutely, a little embarrassed, but she didn't even bat an eye. She must had seen a million sexually active teenagers a day. "Okay. And have you had sex since? Or had more than one partner?”

He shook his head, smoothing his hands over the gown on his thighs just to occupy himself. "No, I only did it once. And no other partners. Just one."

"Okay." She scribbled it down, and he hoped that meant no peeing in a cup for him. “Any drugs?” He shook his head no. Not intentional ones, anyway. “Alcohol?”

“Just at that party. When the thing happened. Um.” He looked down again, though he caught her nodding in understanding. He didn’t want to talk about it. Everyone was getting that. “That was the only time I’ve ever drank.”

“Okay. Excellent.” Before she asked anything else, she plucked the top paper from the clipboard smoothly and then handed the clipboard to Brendon. He looked up at her, confused, usually his mother filled out the paperwork for him. "I'll be right back, honey. Can you fill out this survey for me, just for your mental health?"

"Yeah." He accepted it and took the pen off the top, chained to the clipboard. Trapped in place. She disappeared, he never understood where doctors were always running off to, and he began to fill out all the answers to the survey accordingly, checking boxes accurately with a grimace. He used to lie on these things. Or maybe he believed his answers, back then, and just denied his deeper thoughts. The ones of anxiety and fear. He had been so good at that, once upon a time.

Answering the questions accurately would be smarter now. There was more riding on this. The truth hurt more, but so did denial. It was getting too hard to hide from.

As if on cue, he answered the last question as his doctor knocked on the door. He called for her to come in, swore that she had conducted a study to test how long filling out the behavioral health survey took, and she poked her head in. “Are we ready?” She asked and he nodded, so she closed the door behind her, smiling.

He wondered why pediatricians smiled so much. Brendon could never understand that. Maybe it was because of all the kids coming and going into the office. That would explain the wooden fish decorations hanging from the ceiling or the cute educational posters that were obviously meant to entertain whatever scared little kids came and gone. But they entertained Brendon too, so.

He handed the survey back to her, seemingly created just to expose him, praying she wouldn’t mention it. They didn’t need to talk about it. But she looked it over, reading his answers thoroughly as the thump of his socked feet against the table resounded in the small room. “Alright. Let's see.” She said quietly, and his heart started to race as he played with a loose thread on the gown, desperate and trying to find a distraction. Why was it necessary to wear a gown? He didn't have anything to hide; she peeked everywhere anyway. "Okay, Brendon, you answered 'most days' for number eight. Consistent feelings of sadness, worthlessness, and discouragement. Can we talk about that?"

He knew it. Knew he should have lied. Avoided confrontation. That would have been smart. Looking down at his socks, he shrugged, not bothering to meet her eyes, "I guess."

She looked like she didn’t really know where to start, but Brendon honestly didn’t care about preserving his personal feelings anymore. "Can you elaborate on how you’re feeling?” She asked, scanning the clipboard again.

He shrugged and watched his socked heels kick at the table below him, pointedly avoiding her gaze. What kind of question was that, anyway? He checked the box. He was bullied, scared of everything, anxious all the time, and he had been drugged at a stupid house party the first time he ever drank. Of course he wasn't feeling anything good. He was surprised he hadn’t realized sooner. "Um, sad. I don't know."

The look on her face read concern, which in turn made Brendon concerned. Was he okay? What was going on with him? When did he suddenly become somebody to worry about? The realization hit him hard when she asked, "When did this start?"

Her soft eyes flickered between his face and the clipboard, his true feelings spilled on it. He’d always been someone to worry about. For a decade, he had been someone to worry about. His parents, his siblings, friends, teachers, doctors, his boyfriend. They all worried so much about him but were all too scared to say it. Why hadn’t anybody told him?

"I think, like... I don't know. For a really long time I've always kind of felt weird, like there's part of me that's missing or something, but I never really... paid attention to it, I guess. Even when I was in elementary and middle school I didn’t feel right. I thought it was normal.” He reached up to tug at his hair. “I was really scared all the time, of everyone and everything, and I thought it was part of that. Anxiety to be out in the world, you know? I thought I would get used to it. But now it's still kind of here, and it's gotten worse in the past couple of years, especially because of school and bullying and stuff. But I don't really know why. It used to be fear. Now it’s just anxiety that I don’t know how to explain.”

She frowned, and he knew it meant bad news. He couldn’t handle any more bad news. His entire past two months had been a constant cacophony of bad news. "Is there a history of depression in your family, Brendon?"

Depression? There was no way he had depression. That was never even something that occurred to him. Of course he didn’t have depression. That was just silly. "I don't think so. I'm not sure. But I don't think I have depression, though. I'm not suicidal. I don’t wanna kill myself. And nothing that bad has ever really happened to me, at least not before what happened on Halloween. Aside from like, the normal teenage bullying stuff. I have a good family and my best friend and my boyfriend. I don't have a reason to be depressed."

She rested the clipboard in her lap, sighing unsteadily. "Not everybody who's depressed is suicidal, Brendon. And not everybody needs to have a specific reason to have depression. It doesn’t work like that. It's a spectrum. Everybody’s experience with mental illness is different. I can give you a pamphlet on symptoms of depression if you'd like, but I'd also like you to go to a psychiatrist with your mother, just to talk about all of this and see what’s going on mentally. You could really benefit from it.”

A psychiatrist? For what, to diagnose him? To psychoanalyze everything he did and said and thought, to size him up and fit him in a box? That was his job. "Oh."

She moved on, but Brendon was still stuck on the psychiatrist. He didn’t need his mind to be poked and prodded at, they did that enough to his body. He liked his thoughts to be private. "Alright. So you said you don't have suicidal thoughts."

He nodded promptly. Woohoo, no suicidal thoughts! Go Brendon! "Right."

"Good. That's good." She wrote something down, and he not so surreptitiously tilted his head to try and catch a glimpse of what it was. As soon as he did, though, she moved the board so the paper wasn’t in his central vision. For all he knew, she could be sending him straight to the slaughterhouse. Or the hospital. He didn’t know the difference anymore. “Alright, Brendon, I have to measure and weigh you really quickly, and then you're all set to get dressed. I'm gonna have a conversation with your mom about this, and I'll refer you to a psychiatrist."

"Okay." He walked over to the wall and stood with his heels against it like he was told to do, tugging at the gown so that it wouldn’t slip off and expose him to the cold, drafty room.

"So, you said nothing was really wrong until Halloween. Do you think this has made it worse? Like it was there before, but then this trigger set it off?" She asked calmly, sliding the scale down until it tapped the top of his head. “Five three.” She muttered as she scribbled it down, and then gestured for him to step on the scale.

Brendon nodded while she took down his weight. That terrible feeling in his stomach only fluctuated since Halloween, and now it was almost unbearable. It had been there before, often a visiting guest that came and gone when it pleased, but now it had felt more inclined to stay. "Yeah. Definitely."

"Alright. Well, the last time I saw you was a couple of days after Halloween. And..." She compared his weight from the week prior, and her face contorted to a look of concern. "Brendon, you've gained almost five pounds since then. It's only been a week."

He offered half a smile sheepishly. "I tend to eat my feelings."

"Well, you kind of need it anyway." She pat his back with a hint of a smile herself, she was sure it wasn’t a problem. It could be, if Brendon kept getting so stressed, he didn’t know. "Anything more, though, and come see me. We want to make sure you’re not getting too u healthy. Get dressed and meet me in the waiting room with your mom."

She disappeared so he pulled his clothes on quickly, just in time to catch the news being delivered. Doctors never told him what was wrong, just his parents. It was his body and he deserved to know. He slid on his shoes and jacket and then went to find his doctor, speaking to his concerned mother in the waiting room.

“I think Brendon might be mentally ill.” He heard in a hushed voice as he made his way over. He wished he could change whatever was going on underneath his skin. Prayed to God that things would change. That this was passing. That they weren’t his genetics, just a mistake. That this wasn’t real and wasn’t happening.

Patiently and with his hands trembling in his jacket pockets, he went to stand with the two. His mother placed a hand on his shoulder, keeping him close. It wasn’t his fault, the doctor reminded as she gave them the spiel. Most of what she said Brendon didn’t understand, or didn’t listen to, he couldn’t find the energy to pay attention.

She handed his mother a pamphlet and told them both to read it to understand. He didn’t want to understand. He just didn’t want it to be true.

She promised to leave them a referral to a psychiatrist and Brendon left the office at his mother’s side, watching his feet discernibly as he stepped across the pavement. How could things have gone so wrong? He thought it was just a little anxiety. Not a whole disorder. His mother unlocked the car silently, a forlorn look on her face, and he apologized, “I’m sorry, mama.”

"No, babe, it's not your fault." She pulled him into a hug before he could get to his side of the car. He stopped walking, melted into her embrace, knew that this was it. He wasn’t going to be the same. “I’m gonna call the psychiatrist and try to get a meeting as soon as possible. She told me they have good availability. I might have to keep you home from school. I just want to get this figured out as soon as possible. If they diagnose you sooner, you’ll get help sooner. Okay?” He nodded silently. Staying home would spark some more stupid rumors, but it was important. School felt so trivial nowadays. “I love you, Bren.”

"I love you too." He returned, accepting a kiss on the forehead, but for the rest of the day he couldn't get the look of worry she gave him out of his head.

He sat in bed that night, staring at the pamphlet about his new reality. His mom looked over it as she made the call to the psychiatrist, she somehow managed to schedule an appointment for the next day, as the referral helped. But it was more for Brendon to read about his symptoms. There was a list of them, a long list, symptoms he was scared of, didn’t think he could handle, and the paper creases where he gripped it tight. The worst part was that behind each syllable was a feeling Brendon recognized.

His stomach turned and folded in on itself like it was trying to pull him in and swallow him whole. He recognized himself in that pamphlet, all of him reduced to a few words on a page. But it wasn’t just the past week. The feelings of depletion and hopelessness and the lack of energy. It was always. He’d been feeling this way for years and he hadn’t even realized that anything was wrong. It was just... all he knew.

Months ago, Dallon said that there was something underlying. Underneath his negativity and self-deprecation. It was a hint. Something from someone who knew better, back before they knew each other well. Back before Dallon wasn’t afraid to ask him. And his siblings told him, too. Said they were worried. So everybody else knew. He just didn’t want to see it.

Something was underlying. Something had always been underlying. That just happened to be some tricky mental illness.

Still, he couldn’t help but think that it wasn't possible. He was him. Had his own box that he’d delineated, defined, decorated to fit him perfectly. Nowhere in that box was depression. That wasn’t fair. Of course it wasn’t fair. It was stupid of him to assume that life could ever be fair to him. That never happened to Brendon Urie. He never got lucky. He never got a break. Why hadn’t he ever realized?

He heard the words loud and clear. Depression. Mentally ill. Brendon. It wasn’t possible, but somehow it just... fit.

Rolling around uncomfortably and hugging one of his stuffed animals like it would guard him from the world, Brendon couldn't fall asleep that night. He didn't know how he could, with the sudden news that something abnormal was brewing under his skin and making a home in the body he felt so marooned in. He knew about depression, but he never considered that it would catch him too. He never even thought...

The thing was, he and Dallon were different. So different. Dallon, while he remained a mystery and had been one of the more difficult things Brendon had had to endure in his days, was depressed. He’d known it for years. It was something he defined himself by. But that wasn’t Brendon.

He had a wonderful family and an amazing best friend and an incredible boyfriend. Aside from a few mean comments here and there, and of course the Halloween incident, Brendon was nowhere near troubled. So how could he be depressed? How could he have a mental illness? How could they label him when he couldn’t do that himself anymore? He didn’t fit in where Dallon did. But like both his doctor and the pamphlet said, it was different for everyone.

He shook with anxiety when his mother pulled into the parking lot of the psychiatrist’s office, taking time off of work to take him. Just another thing for him to feel guilty about, he thought, and he was missing so much school, and everyone was probably so worried, Dallon, his friends.

He tried to materialize his mother’s hand on his shoulder as she led him toward the building, not saying a word because neither of them knew what to say. Brendon didn’t really feel like talking. They stepped into the elevator, and he wondered why they were so small so cramped, so claustrophobic. He felt like he was suffocating. It was a good thing he was at a doctor’s office, he guessed.

He waited for what felt like forever in the waiting room, sitting in an uncomfortable chair, trying to find patterns in the speckled carpet and keeping himself entertained until someone called his name. He was tired, dizzy, he hadn’t slept all night, and as he got up he felt unsteady. It felt like forever since he’d gotten some sleep.

He looked back at his mother and she smiled supportively at him. She wasn’t allowed in; he knew that. This was an evaluation. No one else was allowed in the room. Who he assumed to be his psychiatrist closed the door behind him, gesturing to a seat across from her desk, so he did. Didn’t bother with a hello because he was too scared to speak. The walls were beige, the blinds closed, and he felt uneasy. Out of place.

She asked him a series of questions and they went by in a haze. It didn’t feel like him in there, answering those questions. It didn’t feel real. He just answered on automatic, trying to tell the truth. There were so many permutations to the truth that he didn’t know what the best version was. The realest version.

He avoided eye contact and explained his symptoms, how long he’d had them, when he thought they started. He shocked himself a few times— had he really never paid attention to any of this— because he didn’t know they were problems. He just thought they were... part of his lifestyle.

“I want to do a physical test too, Brendon, so I’ll send you to the lab to do some bloodwork.” She told him after they talked, and he met with his mother again so she could hold his hand. He hated getting his blood taken. Needles. The pierce of it in his flesh.

She sat down with them both in her office and he rubbed at his arm, sore from the bloodwork, poking at the tape over the gauze as he gave her permission to share the information with his mother. She held a hand over Brendon’s knee, obviously nervous, though within reason. Brendon was nervous too.

“So, Brendon. Sometimes it can be very hard to tell, especially when somebody shows so many symptoms of different illnesses. They can all kind of cross each other sometimes. But from what I’m seeing, based on what you told me, it seems like you have some sort of depression. I think, however, your illness may be primarily an anxiety disorder. You said that you get anxious a lot, right?”

“Yeah.” He nodded uneasily, seeing his mother look at him out of the corner of his eye. She had tears in her eyes; he could understand why. Her youngest, already having been through so much, doomed to his own personal hell. That was the icing on top of the cake. Everyone else in the Urie family was perfect. Not Brendon. He’d never been given a shot.

“Well, clinical depression manifests itself in many ways. To put it simply, I think that this is what you have, and it is... manifesting itself in anxiety. Or it could be the other way around; an anxiety disorder, but showing a lot of symptoms of depression. Like I said, so many disorders are so similar that it can be hard to tell.” She scrolled through her notes, almost frowning. “Have you ever talked to anybody about your childhood issues?”

Brendon shrugged, not really knowing whether or not it mattered at this point. He was fucked up. He knew that now for sure. “I saw a therapist a few times, a few years ago, but never a doctor. Never a diagnosis, or whatever this is.”

“Okay. Hm. Well, in my opinion, it seems that some sort of trauma affected you in a negative way and it progressed into something worse. Depression rides off the back of anxiety and stress, so it’s likely that what happened to you recently brought on a great deal of anxiety. You said that you’ve felt great anxiety for prolonged periods of time. Typically about things out of your control or things you aren’t even really aware of. So that very well may be the issue.”

His mother looked more concerned than Brendon did, though he couldn’t bring himself to be. It didn’t even really feel like him in there. “So what do we do about this?” She asked, obviously nervous.

“Well, there are different types of therapy here.” She handed his mother a pamphlet, Brendon was getting so sick of those things. “And I think the best option is to prescribe an antidepressant. Brendon’s body will take some time to get used to them, to let them balance out, it usually takes a couple of weeks, but in the long run they may be helpful. They’re not a cure, they’re not magic, but they can make symptoms less prominent. Help people function better in their daily life. The way I do it is that I typically don’t like to prescribe people anything after a major event happens, because that’s not really depression. We all have ups and downs, right? So I’m pretty on the fence here, seeing as you just went through a pretty traumatic event. But because what you’ve said has kind of insinuated that you’ve been having symptoms of depression for a few years, I’m going to prescribe you an SSRI.”

Brendon’s mother looked between her son and the doctor skeptically, but Brendon had no idea what to say. He needed help. He wasn’t allowed to have an opinion here. “Will that be safe?”

She nodded immediately, confident in her decision though the boy was staring at her with disbelief. He doubted a pill could make this better. “Oh, definitely. The type I’m prescribing has gotten lots of good feedback from other patients.”

She seemed reluctant. “And this’ll help.”

“Hopefully. It’s important to note that there’s nothing you can do to get rid of the illness. It’s incurable. But it’s treatable. We’re going to try to treat it. So, I want you to check in with your primary care physician to see how you’re doing physically. Take half of the pill for about eight days and then one a day. In a couple of months I want to see you again, we’ll talk about whether the SSRI is working or if you want to try something else. There are side effects, but half a pill will hopefully help subside them. Drowsiness, dizziness, things like that. I’ll make a list for you on the prescription. If you have any symptoms to the extent where they’re disruptive, call me. But for the most part I just want you to adjust.”

“Okay.” He sat back in his seat, dejected.

“Also, another disclaimer: antidepressants work in this funny way where sometimes they can give the person taking them suicidal thoughts. Sometimes that’s just because they restore the person’s energy, and that energy is put toward negative thoughts opposed to positive ones. It doesn’t always happen, but it’s a possibility. So if you have these kinds of thoughts or ever want to hurt yourself, Brendon, you have to call me or talk to somebody about it, okay?”

He nodded, his stomach churning. He was sick. Depression. Or an anxiety disorder. Both, maybe. He didn’t know. Didn’t care, really. All that mattered was that he was sick, and there wasn’t a cure, just treatment. Treatment that could make him want to kill himself.

He felt numb as she talked to his mother, apathetically staring at the wall and trying to make sense of it. He couldn’t. None of this made sense. He should have seen it coming but he didn’t. That just made this all more pathetic. Everyone warned him; everything had been a warning sign. He should have figured, or looked into it, or told his parents years ago to get him diagnosed. He should have known. It was his body. His mind. He should have known.

This was wrong. This was so, so wrong.

“How could this have happened so suddenly, though? I’ve never been depressed before. Or like, I never realized it. Shouldn’t I have known that?” Brendon asked suddenly, overwhelmed. He thought he knew himself better than that. Better than a stranger did, at least.

“It can come as a shock. The thing about mental illness is that there are a lot of factors that contribute to it. That can make it difficult to diagnose. There are symptoms that you may have that you’ve never even realized are symptoms. Irregular appetite, sleeping patterns, lack of energy. Bad memory, too. Now, it’s possible that you have the gene and something in your environment recently switched it on, thus indicating your sudden shift. You quite possibly have had it for years and didn’t even know it. And it’s a gradual thing, it doesn’t just happen overnight. It’s most likely that you’ve had it for a while, but you may not have noticed the subtler manifestations. Maybe ask your loved ones if they’ve noticed you’ve been pulling away recently. That’s often how it starts. They may not have; not many people do.”

Brendon’s mom looked between them, wracking her brain though nothing stood out to her. “I haven’t noticed anything.”

But Brendon did. Had he been pulling away? He thought that he was just reacting to situations in the way he should be. “I mean, maybe I’ve been pulling away. I... I haven’t paid attention.”

“Well, it’s always different. Everybody is different, right? Hard to pinpoint what exactly causes what. Something I like to tell my patients is that traumatic life experiences can often wake something in us that was asleep before. Maybe what happened to you caused triggering thoughts, and that’s why you’re feeling the way that you do. Maybe something happened during your youth that you’re shutting out and it’s affecting you now. Maybe it’s the chemical imbalance combined with your personality, because if you tend to have low self-esteem and feelings of anxiety then you’re more susceptible to the illness.”

He let his hands fall in his lap in defeat. “So it’s my fault.”

His mom sighed and tilted her head at her son sadly. “Brendon.”

“It’s not your fault, Brendon. It’s just... your body. Your mind. The way it chose to function. But mental illness is caused by an array of different things and like I said, it’s hard to pinpoint what exactly. I always recommend therapy, there you’ll have a safe space to explore the factors, but the truth is that it’s always going to be a nature versus nurture conflict. Internal versus environmental. There are some things that would take further digging to figure out.”

“Do you know-“ Brendon started, and when she turned to look at him he nestled back against the chair. “Do you know what, um, kind this is? You said there are different kinds.”

“Well, it’s complicated, Brendon. We can’t diagnose you right off the bat. There are too many factors we need to take into consideration. Talking to you more often and seeing more symptoms will definitely give us some more insight into your illness. To put it simply, though, I’m positive it’s something related to an anxiety disorder. I’m just not exactly sure if this is related to a depressive disorder or just has some of its symptoms. In time, hopefully we should uncover that a little more.” Time. Brendon didn’t want to wait. He just wanted to get better. He wanted a magic pill. A snap of the fingers. Not shit luck and a probable death wish. “Here is your prescription. I’ll call it into your pharmacy, you can pick it up as soon as possible. They’ll have it filled immediately.” She printed out a paper and handed it to him. Proof. He looked down at it, unseeing, until his mother reached out to take it from him. “I put the instructions on this paper but they’ll be on the bottle too. If you have any questions or problems or need someone to talk to, my number is in the corner there.”

Depression. He didn’t have depression. This was just some sort of stupid mistake. He was chemically balanced. He was fine. He was perfectly happy. He just had some bad days. He wasn’t anxious every day, just most days, and he had hobbies. Staring at the ceiling counted. He had an irregular appetite and weird sleep patterns but that didn’t mean-

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Thanks.” He said quietly, getting up out of his seat. The walls blurred around him and he felt dizzy, disoriented, as he tried hard to process it. Depression? An anxiety disorder? He didn’t think...

He felt numb as his mom whisked him down to the car with the prescription in hand, thanking his psychiatrist a thousand times for all her help. Brendon knew it was her job, she had good intentions. She couldn’t help what she discovered. It was just that this was the worst news in the world to him. Brendon was depressed and he didn’t know what box he fit into. Those were the two worst case scenarios.

He sat in the passenger seat apathetically, thumbing his bottom lip and trying to figure out what to do. How didn’t he know? How hadn’t he figured it out? He’d been in his body for seventeen and a half years. That was a long time to not know yourself.

He couldn’t have known. The only model he had for mental illness was Dallon and he and Dallon were so different. They weren’t alike in any aspect. Dallon was angry. Unrelenting. Brendon was just... reserved. He wasn’t mad. At least he didn’t think he was. Maybe he was just constantly disappointed.

His mom sighed as she shoved the key into the ignition, watching her son pick aimlessly at the broken skin on his chapped lips as he stared out at the parking lot in front of him, littered with cars and a piece of his dignity he’d dropped on the way out. They were all parked at a psychiatrist. They were all there to talk about their shitty mental health. So many people. What a fucked-up world.

"Brendon-"

He shook his head slowly, looking away so he wouldn’t catch her gaze. He knew what she was going to say, and he didn’t want to hear it. He wouldn’t. "No."

"Brendon." She repeated, more insistent but pleading.

"No." He locked his jaw and stared out at the road in front of him. "No, I'm not going to therapy. I won't."

Her eyes fixated on the indignant boy as he refused to look at her. She tilted her head sympathetically, wished things were different, but they weren’t. That was the thing. "You might have to, keiki."

"I won't." He refused. She opened her mouth to protest but he shook his head, beating her to it. He was stubborn. She knew he wouldn’t listen regardless. “No. This is too much. I need to think." He put his head in his hands, a headache forming. Fuck this. Fuck his mind and its inability to release enough serotonin. Fuck mental illness and its decision to sneak attack him when this was supposed to be his year. Fuck. “I wanna talk to Dallon about it.”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and he knew what she was thinking. After living with somebody for seventeen years they get predictable. It wasn’t a good idea to parade it around. He had to be careful. Learn about it before he let it define him. Well, it was his fucked-up head. He got to decide who to talk about it with. “Are you sure?” She asked, not saying what she wanted to say.

“Yeah.” He tugged his jacket up and folded his arms, suddenly cold. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to say it out loud, actually. Didn’t want to admit it. He just wanted to scream at the top of his lungs but he knew no one would listen anyway. Except for one person. One person who knew. “Dallon knows. He can help. Or at least talk to me about it. I don’t know.” He shifted uncomfortably. “He... I’m nothing like him, mama. I really don’t think-“

“Brendon, you heard what she said. It’s different for everyone.” She reached over to place a hand on his thigh, but he bristled away with tears in his eyes. This didn’t make any sense. Dallon was a tortured artist. So what was Brendon? He didn’t fit into any category. “Come on, babe. Let’s go get your prescription, and we can grab ice cream before we go home.” She suggested. His stomach was in knots. He felt like he was going to puke out his heart and his soul and his will to live. He nodded. All those things were gone, and he was just going to fill their void with pills and ice cream, he guessed. “Sound good?”

“Mhm.” He let his head fall against the window, the glass cold, and his mother made a noise of acknowledgment but didn’t say another word as she pulled out of the parking spot. He closed his eyes, imagining somewhere better. Anywhere but here.

He held onto this little orange bottle as he stepped into the warmth of his home, a home where he had once been happy, in front of a photo that had been captured on one of his happiest days. He stared at himself behind the glass, furrowing his eyebrows and trying to fathom how that boy was the same person that he was now. It didn’t seem... real.

He couldn’t stop thinking about everything. Everything he’d ever done and said and thought. Every action and conversation and feeling. Sizing them up and trying to put them in boxes that didn’t belong. He didn’t know where he went wrong. When being emotional had become mental illness.

Brendon sat at the table with his leg pulled to his chest as his mom made food he probably wouldn’t eat. Anxiety left his hands shaking where they were wrapped around the pill bottle. His mind kept darting between memory to memory, trying to pin down something long enough to put it under the microscope. Examine it a little longer. But he couldn’t. He didn’t know how.

Bumblebee: come over

Dally: for what

Bumblebee: I need to rant

Bumblebee: it's ok if you can't but I really need u right now

Dally: of course I can do you need anything

Bumblebee: just u

He locked his phone and set it face down on the table, already guilty. He didn’t need to make Dallon worry about him. He already worried about him enough. But he couldn’t help it; he needed to talk about it. He needed to get it off his chest. He didn’t know what else to do. He was just scared. He was never not scared.

Brendon was playing with the condensation on his glass of water when Dallon stepped into the kitchen, nodding his head at he and his mother in a hello. Brendon pushed the glass aside, wiping his hands on his leggings and jumping up to greet him. “Hey, I came up through the diner. It always gets me some really weird looks but it was easier than ringing the doorbell.” He wrapped both arms around Brendon when he latched onto him, burying his face in his chest. “Hi, baby.” He rubbed his back warily and Brendon didn’t answer, couldn’t find it in him to, just tightened his grip around his middle as he stared into space.

“Hi, honey.” Brendon’s mother greeted, catching his look of skepticism but not addressing. It was quiet, The Urie house was never quiet. They were just trying to help. Make things less loud. It didn’t help, not really, but most things didn’t anyway. He just wanted things to go back to normal. Not to be like this. Like he was about to shatter. “Would you like something to eat?”

“Oh, no, I’m okay. I had lunch at school a little while ago. Thank you, though.” He smiled politely and Brendon rugged at his shirt like a child, trying to tell him he wanted to leave. “You wanna go talk?” He asked carefully, sensing that something was wrong, Brendon often regressed when there was. Brendon nodded, pulling away to take his hand, and Dallon exchanged goodbyes with Brendon’s mother as they headed toward the stairs.

Brendon darted up to his room and Dallon followed, ostensibly worried, as he tried to keep up with his fast pace. He went to reach out for him but stopped, decided it probably wasn’t a good idea. Brendon was fragile now. Dallon was trying to accommodate. Brendon trembled as he closed his bedroom door behind them, shaking his hands out as tears filled his eyes. He felt like he was on fire.

He turned to look at Dallon, examine him, pray he could help him, and reached up to wipe his nose with the back of his hand. “I went to the doctor’s today.” He said, voice shaking, and Dallon nodded carefully as he took a seat on the edge of his bed.

“Okay.” He returned easily, nodding slowly, treating him like he was having a conversation with a child though he might as well have been. “So what did they say?”

His throat burned with tears, feeling all of the consternation he’d been bottling up for weeks scratch at his insides. “I’m sick.” He admitted, and tears slid down his cheeks when he said it.

Dallon’s eyebrows knit together and he tilted his head at him, reaching out a hand to stop him from pacing. “Can you elaborate?” He asked gently, not wanting to jump to conclusions, and Brendon wiped his cheeks. He felt so pathetic. So weak. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t like Dallon. He wasn’t a tortured artist. He was just him. He didn’t fit anywhere.

“I went to the doctor’s yesterday and she gave me that survey that you take at the doctor’s where you lie on all the questions cause they’re really self-incriminating. Only I didn’t lie, and she said she was worried about me or whatever. So I went to the psychiatrist and she said that I have depression. Or an anxiety disorder. Or both. I don’t know. But it doesn't make any sense, Dal, you know? I’m not... I’m not depressed. I can’t be. I know myself and I know that I’m not because I never planned for that, I never-"

"Brendon, calm down." Dallon got up quickly, resting both hands on his shoulders and pulling him into a hug when Brendon broke down crying. “Hey.” He soothed, enveloping him tightly, trying to push him back together like some mismatched puzzle pieces that wouldn’t fit, as Brendon sobbed against his chest. “Bren, it’s not the end of the world.”

“It’s not fair.” He cried, strained and broken.

“I know.” Dallon shushed him gently, rubbing his back, and looked up to the ceiling like God himself would give him the answers. There weren’t any. If there were, this wouldn’t happen. “C’mon. C’mere.” He sat him down on the edge of his bed and Brendon held a hand over his mouth, he was so stupid, so fucking stupid, Dallon wasn’t a babysitter, but he rubbed Brendon’s shoulder gently and he felt guilty all over again. “Talk to me, Bren. What’s going on?”

He shook his head frantically and got up to pace again, couldn’t seem to collect himself, but didn’t want to. He deserved to cry. He deserved to scream and hit something and get mad because this was his body and it was betraying him. That wasn’t fair.

He grabbed a tissue from his desk and Dallon watched him wordlessly, eyes obviously worried, as he wiped his face. He wasn’t a pretty little crier. He was snotty and messy and loud and he hated crying in front of people. In front of Dallon. It just didn’t get him anywhere. All it did was bring up all the things he couldn’t control and couldn’t change. He just didn’t know how to handle anything maturely, so he cried instead.

“They told me that— that what happened might have triggered my depression, whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean, like it was sleeping and it just got woken up or something. And that they think it was going on for a long time but no one realized, I guess. But that’s not fair. It’s not fair. I’m supposed to know who I am. How is it fair that doctors can tell me who I am? How is it fair that everyone else can decide who I am? I don’t wanna be... this. I don’t wanna be sick and I don’t wanna have to take medicine to be normal. She gave me a prescription and I just— I’m sorry. I know you take them and they help you but that’s not me. You’re different.”

“How am I different?” Dallon asked, not derisive but curious.

“I don’t know.” He snapped, walking around his room to get out his anxious energy. “You know how to do this. You’ve done your trial and error. You’re stronger and smarter and more sensible and I’m not, Dallon. I have no fucking idea how to handle this. Fuck. I don’t want this. I didn’t ask for this. It’s my senior year of high school. I wanted to work and save up money for the summer and hang out with my friends and make out with my boyfriend and pass my classes and graduate and get on with my life. I didn’t want to get drugged at a party. I didn’t want to get diagnosed with depression or— or whatever the fuck this is. I didn’t ask for everyone to stare at me all the time. I’m already enough of an outcast. I’m already a fucking joke to everyone. I don’t want to be the person that everybody hates. I don’t want to have these nightmares every night that people are doing things to me! I want to go back to normal. How do I get back to normal?!”

Dallon stared at him, shaking his head as Brendon looked desperately for answers. He shrugged, dropping his hands in between his open legs defeatedly like he were about to shoot Brendon dead. "You don't.” He admitted, and that wasn’t what Brendon wanted to hear. “Look. Depression is a lot more complex than just taking a pill and willing it away. It's a chemical imbalance in your brain. It won’t go away. It’s a mental illness. You have good days and bad days and really bad days. But sometimes you'll have really good days too. It's just a matter of how you choose to control it. It’ll take some time to get used to, but I promise you will.”

Stilling for a second as he took in the past few days, Brendon wiped at his eyes and went to sit beside Dallon on his bed. Dallon was silent as Brendon laid on his back, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t say anything, just stared, looked to the sideways dinosaur holding a cake for advice. Waited. Balled up his tissue in his hand, and tried to process this all in his brain. “Can I have some advice?” He asked, and Dallon looked down to meet his eyes. “You know how to do this. I don’t. So how do I do it?”

Dallon took a deep breath and fell back on the bed beside him, folding his hands neatly on his chest as he tried to make out the shapes in Brendon’s ceiling too. Brendon liked to fit things in boxes. He felt lost when he couldn’t. That wasn’t his fault. Neither was his being sick. It was just that that made it harder to do what he had to do and in that, Brendon couldn’t find that peace. That just happened sometimes.

“It’s not easy.” He admitted, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Brendon look at his face. “It’s not easy, but you’ll adapt. You’ll learn. You’ll find your coping mechanisms and what medication works but most importantly, you’ll learn to live with it. It’s sad, that it’s something we have to learn to live with, but it’s true. Nothing will cure it. There are just things that manage it. But it’s not... it’s not like you’re a different person. You’re still you, Brendon, it's just that your body and your mind are changing because you're growing.” He tilted his head to the side gently, and Brendon sniffled. “Can you tell me when you started to feel... like, consistently sad?"

“Forever.” He admitted, and at that Dallon moved a hand to his side to find Brendon’s. “I don’t know. I didn’t realize it was a problem until now but I’ve always felt empty. Like some part of me is missing and I need to find it. I guess I just never realized that it wasn’t really meant to be found.” He tangled their fingers together, tried to replace that feeling of vacancy in his chest with something he knew. He felt hollow, now. More than he had before. “I grew up scared of everything. That wasn’t happy. I just never grew out of that internal fear when I grew up.”

Dallon grazed his knuckles gently with his thumb, trying to find the words to say to make him feel like this wasn’t the end of the world. For Brendon, most things were, as he never knew how to find the silver linings. “I’m not gonna lie, Bren, it fucking sucks. Having to rely on medicine. Having this thing inside of you that’s like a constant dark cloud. It’s cliché but that’s the only way I know how to put it. Some days are better than others, though. You’ll learn to cope with the bad days. Appreciate the good days.”

“Good days feel so impossible.” He shook his head slowly, eyes brimming with tears.

“I know. And sometimes they are. I didn’t have any good days for a really long time. But, you know, I always try to find the good things. Or the things to look forward to. Good days are always something to look forward to. You’ll figure out what determines that. It might take a minute, but you will.”

“What determines a good day for you?” Brendon shifted onto his side, holding Dallon’s hand to his chest.

“Um... low anxiety days. Days where I don’t have a lot on my plate, and when I’m in a good place with everyone. When I have my creativity and make something that I like. Sometimes it’s just when I’m spending time with you or my friends. Days where I don’t feel like hurting myself. But it all depends.”

Brendon played with his fingers, frowning to himself. He didn’t want to have to search for a good day. He just wanted them to happen. “Oh.” He let out a breath and Dallon knew that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. That he wanted him to say just kidding, this is easy. You’ll be all better soon. It just wasn’t that simple. “I never want to hurt myself.” He added, thinking of the trembling fear he had of a burnt cigarette and pale skin.

“Not everyone with a mental illness does.” Dallon figured, and Brendon avoided looking at the mark on his arm, knew it was there but hated to see it. He always tried to avoid it, ever since he found out what it was. He didn’t feel right about it. “But it’s good that you don’t. That’s really good. And even...” He swallowed, the truth trying to make its way out. “Even if you do ever feel like that, it’s not going to be permanent. Nothing is permanent. You won’t feel like that every day. You just have to find a way to manage when you do feel like that. A creative outlet, or talking it out, or punching your pillow. Anything that’s not hurting yourself is good and helps.”

“Okay.” He nodded, hanging on to every word he was saying. He wanted desperately to know. He was scared of not knowing. Especially when it was his own body.

“And I want you to remember, Bren.” Dallon poked his chest, Brendon’s eyes following his finger and then back up to his eyes. “You’re still you. You’re not any different now. It’s just that now you know.”

Brendon nodded slowly, trying to take it to heart. Now he knew. He just wondered how he hadn’t known sooner. How staring at the ceiling every day and the inexplicable anxiety and his overwhelming fear didn’t clue him in. He was clueless. He was depressed and anxious and clueless. “I’m scared.” He admitted, going to tuck himself into Dallon’s side helplessly. Now he knew. He didn’t want to know. He wanted to see things from the same perspective forever. Thinking that all of this was normal for everyone else, too.

“Hey.” Dallon tilted his chin up with his index finger knuckle, and tears slid down Brendon’s cheeks in unforgiving solidarity. Just a few months ago he was so happy. He thought that made things all better. “Don’t be scared. I know you and I know you're gonna handle this just fine.”

“Does it ever get better?” He asked, silently praying for it. It couldn’t be like this forever. That was impossible.

“I don’t know, Bren.” He admitted, and at that more tears slid out. “I’m not gonna say it gets better because to tell you the truth I'm not sure it ever will. If it does, I haven’t found that yet. But I want to believe that. That eventually we can grow out of it or learn to cope so well that it ceases to exist. I don’t know. But maybe the hope that it’ll get better is just as good as knowing that it will.” He kissed his forehead and Brendon took in a shuddering breath, trying to find the hope that Dallon had though he wasn’t sure he had it in him. “But what I do know is that you're strong and you'll be able to find that strength again. You just need time.”

He buried his face in Dallon's shoulder and sniffled. "Can't I just borrow yours?" He asked, his voice small.

Dallon half smiled, pressing his nose into his hair. “For now.” He agreed, holding Brendon against his body.

Brendon took a deep breath, trying to exhale all the anxiety in his stomach. Worrying wouldn’t do him any good. He needed to learn. He could throw away the pamphlets and cry about it. He could complain about how unfair it all was, and he could scream at God for making him this way, and he could punch the wall or his pillow or himself in the mirror but it wasn’t going to make it better. He just had to try and make his peace with that. “I’m still scared, though.”

“I know, baby, it’s okay. You’re allowed to be scared.” He whispered against the top of his head, rubbing his shoulder carefully. He looked weak. He knew because he felt weak, too. He’d been scared all his life. He thought that would be different when he grew up. That just meant that his problems grew up, too. “Do you wanna talk more about it? It might help. Talking it out does, sometimes.”

Brendon shifted to sit up and Dallon did too, pulling away to let Brendon wipe his eyes. He felt stupid for crying. Like he was being judgmental or childish. Being mentally ill wasn’t wrong. It was just... too hard for someone like him to handle. “Yeah.” He put his head in his hands. He’d been hiding behind fake smiles and false declarations of happiness for so long that he didn’t know how to admit the truth. “I just... don't know where to start, I guess."

Dallon nodded supportively, going to criss-cross his legs on the bed. "That's okay. Just tell me what you think, Bren. Tell me what's happening. Get it off your chest.”

The thing was, Brendon didn’t know what to think. Everything was a jumbled mess in his head. “I just... I have no energy.” He started, feeling himself tire even as he said the words. “I’m exhausted all the time. I feel like I never sleep. I just wanna lay down and not have to wake up. But I’m not— I’m not suicidal. I just want all of this to stop. I don’t wanna die. At least I don’t think I do. I just want existence to be different.”

“Oh. Hm.” Dallon toed at Brendon’s foot with his aimlessly, watching Brendon try to understand his words. His feelings. He was still learning how exactly to do that.

“I... I’ve been in places like this before. Being tired all the time and really anxious and whatever. But it’s never been this bad. This is like how I’ve been before but amplified. It used to be this underlying feeling. Like this feeling deep in my body that something somewhere out there is wrong. Now I’m wondering how I could have been so stupid. It’s so obvious. I should have known. I wish I knew myself better than this.”

“Well, it’s not always the most apparent answer. I think that sometimes you get so used to feeling a certain way that you forget to wonder why you feel that way. You don’t want to think there’s something wrong so you don’t search for your answers. Sometimes it takes something waking up your sickness inside of you for you to realize it’s real.”

Brendon sighed as he looked down at their hands, tilting his lips down unsurely. That was what the doctor had said. Something woke it up. Was it really that simple? It wasn’t more nuanced than that? “So the thing that woke it up was me getting drugged at a stupid Halloween party.” He started slowly, shaking his head. Bits and pieces of the memory had come back since it had happened, little flashbacks of dancing in the living room or talking to friends or trying to coax a nervous Dallon into a kiss. Bits and pieces, but it was still fuzzy.

Dallon nodded pensively, that was the only thing that made sense. He had been too unhappy for it to only have developed recently. “Yeah.” He agreed quietly, reaching out mindlessly to poke at a hole in his jeans.

“But it just doesn’t make sense to me.” He added in distress. “It’s not new. I know that now. Whatever this is has been there for years. Earlier this year you told me that you thought there was something underlying. Some reason to how I am. And I should have— I should have known. It’s so obvious. There’s something wrong with me.”

Dallon frowned up at him, and looked guilty if Brendon bothered to see. “That’s not what I meant, babe.”

“No, I know. But that’s what it is. I just... didn’t realize it until someone had to scream it in my face.” He looked away, reminiscing on how naive he had been. I’m fine, the words said themselves like he was so conditioned to believe them. He wasn’t even sure he ever really did. “I don’t know what to do, Dallon. I feel like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. Like everybody knew before me. Everyone told me something was wrong and I didn’t want to believe it.” He shook his head again, disappointed in himself. He thought he was smarter. Now he just felt naive for believing that too. “How do I make it go away?”

Dallon played with his hair aimlessly, twisting his dead ends in between his fingertips. “You don’t.” He said quietly, and Brendon shifted to sit beside him. “You just find ways to make it better. Coping mechanisms.”

“It just feels so lonely.” He nearly whispered, tangling their fingers together. He knew he wasn’t alone, though. He knew. Thousands of people felt the same as him. That just meant that even his brain wasn’t unique.

“I know. It feels that way. But you have to be there for yourself. You need to support you. And I’ll support you too. Cause I know what this feels like. I know how lonely it gets.” He tilted his head and Brendon reciprocated, letting his head fall against his shoulder. “You’re not alone, though. You have a support system. You have resources to get help. That’s really important.”

“I guess it is.” He agreed. Resources. That was good. The only problem was that nothing was magic; the doctor said it herself. Nothing was going to cure him. That was what he really wanted. “God. We’re a really fucked up couple, aren’t we?”

Dallon ran his fingers down his arm with a half laugh, half sigh. A few months ago they had seemed so perfect. They were happy. They were untouchable. Now... "Yeah, we are." He agreed, because it had always been an illusion.

Brendon sighed in defeat. This had taken everything out of him. It felt like the doctor’s visit was days ago, like it had stretched out, wore thin, like he’d been living in limbo since then. None of this made sense. It felt fake. “Come.” He whispered, pushing his covers back and sliding underneath. It was easier that way. Sleep so the anxiety would go away. Try to clear a blank slate, though he couldn’t. He didn’t know how.

Dallon laid quietly beside him and Brendon pressed his cheek to his shoulder, looped an arm around him, tried to keep himself warm. He felt sick all of a sudden. Too cold. Disoriented, like he was watching himself, and not actually here. Dallon tilted his head to the side, buried his nose in his hair, and didn’t say a word, as they had somehow found the way back to not having to use those.

He pressed his face into Dallon’s shirt and tried to forget it. The way his stomach ached when he thought. Dallon threaded his fingers through his unwashed hair, prayed this would get better, and Brendon did too, though his God was different than Dallon’s. His God was one that never spoke to him, but he needed something. If there weren’t magic pills or a magic cure then he needed something else.

He fell asleep curled up against Dallon’s arm without actually having the intention of falling asleep. Dallon did too, after a while, but watched Brendon breathe for a long few minutes first. He liked to do that sometimes. It reminded him that it couldn’t be that bad because he was still alive. That counted for something.

He woke up confused, squinting as he sat up on his elbows and looked around. He was at peace for a moment, always was when he woke up, until he remembered why he was where he was. Asleep in the middle of the day, because his anxiety hurt his stomach so bad that he felt sick.

“Dal.” He pat his chest and Dallon made a noise of acknowledgment, taking a deep breath as he awoke. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Dallon greeted like they hadn’t been enveloped in each other all afternoon, and reached out to rub Brendon’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“Mmm.” He hummed, not a yes, not a no, and Dallon shifted underneath him. “I think napping instead of dealing with my problems is a good alternative, though.”

“You’re probably right,” Dallon agreed, suppressing a yawn, and Brendon poked at his chin playfully to make him smile as he sat up in bed. “What time is it?”

“Um.” He reached over Dallon to grab his phone, groggy from his nap. “Almost six. We should go downstairs. Dinner is probably soon. I haven’t eaten today.” He climbed over Dallon to get to the door and Dallon groaned, but smiled at Brendon’s laugh anyway. He loved that laugh. He wanted him to laugh that way forever.

Brendon reached out a hand and helped him up. He didn’t thank him for everything but hoped his eyes did, as he never knew how to find the right words. He felt less alone this way. Talking to someone who got it. Someone he trusted. It was easy believing the things Dallon told him. One day he would write it all in a letter, whenever he found his voice.

Brendon’s mom was hanging up the phone as Brendon pulled his boyfriend into the kitchen, still sleepy and disoriented when he nodded his head at her. “Good, you’re up. Did you take a nap?” Wordlessly he nodded, letting go of Dallon’s hand to cover his mouth when he yawned. “Good. You could use the extra sleep. Can I talk to you about something really quick?”

“Sure.” He agreed reluctantly, he hated when people did that, and looked up at Dallon quizzically. “I guess.”

“I’ll give you a minute,” Dallon said politely, he never wanted to impose, and Brendon’s mother only nodded respectfully as he pat Brendon’s side and disappeared to the living room. Brendon crossed his arms, uncomfortable already, always thinking worst case scenario. He wasn’t so invalid in that, though. Lately everything had been turning out that way.

“What’s going on?” He asked, looking around the room for a sign of anything wrong.

“Nothing’s wrong, babe. But your guidance counselor called me to talk about what happened to you and how it’s been affecting your work ethic and wellbeing. She’s worried about you. So she wants your father and I to go in to talk to her tomorrow. Just in regard to how you’re doing. How to help.” She explained as if it were casual, getting out the silverware as Brendon watched in shock. His guidance counselor? She was worried about him? Reaching out to his parents? He didn’t know that they even did that.

“Is this a bad thing? Am I in trouble?”

“No, honey.” She assured him, beginning to set the table. “You’re not in trouble. She just thinks it’s important to talk to us so we can all get on the same page. So we can help you thrive, or whatever. That’s what she said.”

His eyes followed her as she moved around the table. Guilty, as usual, because they were worried. So was his counselor. All he did was worry everyone around him. “Am I supposed to be there?” He asked, bristling at the idea of sitting there while he listened to them talk about him. But pretty adverse to the thought of them talking about him behind his back, too.

"No, you don’t have to be there. We're just gonna discuss the situation and see what's going on. See if there’s any way they can help or do anything for you. That's it. I just wanted you to know. I don’t wanna keep you in the dark." She offered a smile that almost made it better, but it didn’t. He always felt in the dark.

He shifted his weight. Passing around information about him like it was the newest rumor. That wasn’t going to help. But the thing about rumors was that they held some truth; this couldn’t be as bad as the things said about him at school. “Okay. That’s fine, I guess. Just. You know. As long as it’ll help.” He went to pick at a loose thread on his sweatpants, avoiding her eyes. “Dallon’s gonna sleep over tonight. I think I need to talk about all of this. I need to try and understand it. He knows what this is like, you know?”

“Sure, babe. That’s a good idea. Doors open, though.” She kissed the top of his head and he nodded. He felt sick to his stomach thinking about doing anything that required closed doors. “You know, if you really want to talk it out, I can always schedule an appointment with a therapist. You don’t have to go to more than one. Talking to someone once can help immensely.”

“I’m not going to therapy, mama.” His voice came out quiet but she nodded, knew not to push it. He said no. He didn’t get why she didn’t understand that.

“Okay. It was just a suggestion. Dinner is ready, if you want to try to eat. Go grab Dallon, your brothers and sisters are coming up any minute.”

“Okay.” He agreed, guilty again for not trying harder, and he bit back tears as he went to find Dallon. He wanted to do better. He just had to find a way to be comfortable trying.

Dallon looked up from his phone when the pitter-patter of Brendon’s socked feet on the wood floor got his attention. He smiled, standing up to greet him, and reached out a hand to take his. “Everything okay?” He asked, but didn’t push for details because it wasn’t his place.

“Yeah. It’s fine. Uh, dinner is ready. You wanna eat, right?” He nodded his head toward the kitchen, leading Dallon there as he nodded too. “Can you stay tonight?”

“Sure. I’ll call my mom after dinner.” He wrapped an arm around Brendon’s shoulder and followed him to the kitchen. Brendon tried to smile when Dallon kissed his temple, stopping him in the doorway as his mother continued to set the table.

“What’s that for?” Brendon asked, tugging aimlessly at his shirt. Wondering if he recognized the feeling in his throat of trying to find the right words of gratitude but failing.

“Nothing. I’m just really proud of you.” Dallon said like it was nothing, but it wasn’t. Being proud of someone like Brendon. It wasn’t nothing.

“For what?” Brendon found it in him to laugh, enamored, as he leaned back against the doorway.

Dallon shook his head gently, as if he couldn’t even fathom it, and slid a hand up to hold the side of his neck. “Everything.” He whispered, brushing his cheek with his thumb. “Let me help you set the table, Grace.” He added, pulling away to help Brendon’s mother.

She smiled up at him gratefully and Brendon watched Dallon grab the glasses from the cabinet, laughing goodheartedly because she couldn’t reach them and he could. She pat Dallon on the shoulder, and the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs from the diner made her look toward the door. She caught Brendon’s gaze though, and smiled at him. No hard feelings, she said with her eyes. She knew this was hard for him. It was.

Brendon wasn’t anything to be proud of. Dallon just was.

* * *

Brendon looked into the things his psychiatrist told him he could have. Depression, or an anxiety disorder, both, he still wasn’t sure. But he did research, anyway, tried to find all of the symptoms and treatments and stories. He spent all night looking at stories online. Trying to find himself in them. Trying to make sense of things.

He stared at the dinosaur holding a cake aimlessly as he listened to the sound of his family distantly in the house. His brother playing music, Kyla with a friend over. The TV on downstairs because his mother was taking her break from work. His eyes were tired from staring at screens all night, reading about everyone else’s tragedy. He didn’t know if it made him feel better or worse about himself.

There was a quiet knock on his door when he was in the middle of eavesdropping on Kyla’s conversation. He looked up; he wasn’t expecting anyone. He wasn’t big on surprises these days. “Come in.” He called hesitantly, but it was Dallon who opened the door, nodding his head in a hello. He looked tired, bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t been sleeping. Brendon didn’t blame him. He hadn’t either.

Without a word he laid down on his back beside Brendon, staring at the ceiling as if there was actually something there. Brendon dipped his head to look at him, and with a sigh, Dallon said, “I’ve been a shitty boyfriend.”

“What?” Brendon shifted onto his side to look at him. “No you haven’t. You’ve been the best boyfriend.”

“No I haven’t. You’ve been through so much these past couple of months and I’ve just... I haven’t been good to you. You were getting bullied and you needed me but I was busy, and we got in a stupid fight, and I neglected you, we were gonna break up, Bren, and...” He shook his head and turned on his side too, reaching up to cup Brendon’s face in the palm of his hand like he needed to remember what they had been before all this. Before the storm. “I’m sorry for everything. Whether I’m to blame or not. We’ve had a terrible couple of months and I wish I could take all of it back.”

Brendon shook his head, shocked he’d even try to take the blame. This had nothing to do with that. “No, Dal.” He slid an arm around him, rubbing in between his shoulders. “You’re not to blame. Not at all.”

“I wasn’t there for you.”

“You’re always there for me.” He refuted, and could feel Dallon exhale tremulously on his lips when he said it. “Dallon. You’re always there for me. It’s not your place to take it all back. It’s not anyone’s. It just... shouldn’t have happened.” He looked from his eyes to his lips to the little hoop on his nose, and then back to his eyes because that felt most honest. “I wish it didn’t happen. But it did. And I’m scared, and I don’t know what to do. How to stop feeling like this. But right now, all I know is that you are the only thing that’s good. Despite everything.”

“Despite everything,” Dallon repeated, eyelashes fluttering as his eyes glistened with tears. Brendon nodded, and the anxiety made his heart beat fast. Despite everything, Dallon was there. That was more than anyone else could say.

“But... I need to ask.” He added, reluctant, as he brushed his fingers through Dallon’s hair. Dallon leaned into him, nodded, but Brendon could feel his anxiety too. “You're not still with me because of this, right?" He asked, the words feeling bitter on his tongue.

Dallon pulled away. "What?"

Brendon shook his head; it didn't sound so crazy when he thought about it. How much sense it made. It all felt like a technicality. "We were in a bad place, Dal, and we were talking about breaking up and then easing back into us but now... you're not still with me because I got drugged, are you? Because I don't wanna keep ignoring that. Because I wanted to go to that party to have fun with you after everything that happened and we were like, one more stupid fight from breaking up, and I knew it was a bad idea but I thought it would fix things, and maybe it did. Did it? If I didn't get drugged then would we even still be together?"

Dallon’s eyes were wide when Brendon looked up at him. "No, Brendon, I'm not with you because you got drugged." He said, shocked he'd even suggest it, and Brendon looked away guiltily. "I'm with you because I love you. You're my boyfriend and you're my best friend and you're the most important person in my life. We had a bad couple of months. That’s my fault. I’m not always emotionally available. I’m not always there for you. And when I’m in a really bad place like I was last month I can be really bad at coping with that. Just... you don't know everything about me. I know you want to. So I’m trying to let you in. But maybe I could have let you in more before you had to see everything I tried to hide from you. I should have let you in more. And I’m really sorry I didn’t. But I never wanted to break up with you, honey. I was just worried that if I didn't, I would be hurting you more in the long run. I was just worried that I was too... damaged. That you wouldn’t want to be with me because of everything. The way that I am. So maybe this put everything in perspective for me, and maybe this pushed us back in the right direction, but it could never be why I'm with you."

"Okay. I'm sorry. I love you too. I didn’t think you were, I just had to ask to make sure. I’ve been worried about it. I just... I don’t want to be an obligation." He whispered, hesitant now that he heard the way it sounded. Convictive. Dallon would never do that to him. He didn't know how he could think that he would.

"You're allowed to ask, Urie," Dallon assured him, reaching out to pull him closer. They had a bad few weeks. That didn’t mean the rest of them had to be. "If it's for your peace of mind, you can ask."

"Okay." He nuzzled into him again, trying to make sense of it all. Why it could all happen to him. Why he felt so guilty for things that weren’t his fault. Why everybody was so vindictive. “Why do you think they go after me?” He asked as a second thought, running his fingertips aimlessly over Dallon’s side. Dallon raised his eyebrows in question, and Brendon added, “I mean, people have always targeted me. Because I’m gay, because I’m me, I don't know. And I don’t know why I was drugged, but I don’t know what to think. Because maybe it was a hate crime.” It sounded so cruel out loud. A hate crime. He hated to let himself think of. How dare somebody hate him because of who he loved? It was an injustice. It wasn't fair. He shook his head in disbelief, sighing a quiet, “I can’t stop thinking about that.”

“What if it was? A hate crime, I mean. You think you could do something about that?” Dallon asked carefully, running his hand up and down his side like he was trying not to break him. Brendon shrugged lazily and shifted as he squirmed around on his back, tucking an arm under his head. A hate crime. What a fucked-up world they lived in.

“I don’t know.” He sighed, opening an arm to Dallon as he went to lay against his chest. “But I think that it’s unfair that I have to think that. That it’s a hate crime. Because it’s a possibility. People have hated me since I came out. Or, actually, since before I came out. People assumed I was gay or just different or whatever and hated me for it. So it’s not a reach for me to assume it was a hate crime. It’s unfair that this happened to me. I feel gross; like there’s a reason it was me. I hate being a victim when I can’t do anything. And I hate what it did to me.”

Dallon traced his chest with his fingertip gingerly, looking up at him. Like he was picturing that night again, a drunk Brendon dancing, singing, sweating, makeup running on his face. Smiling this stupid hazy smile because he was intoxicated. Unconscious when it set in. Bags under his eyes. Like he was having a nightmare of how different his life was going to be when he woke up.

“I don’t think that caused the depression, Bren,” Dallon said softly, tracing his jawline for lack of anything else to do with his hands.

“No, but it triggered it. That’s what the doctor said. What happened to me triggered something and made it worse and that’s why it’s hitting me now.” He closed his eyes, the dinosaur holding a cake just wasn’t giving him any answers today.

“I don’t know, Dallon. I started taking the meds the other day, and I wasn’t expecting them to work right away, I know they don’t work like that, but... I’ve just been out of it since I started taking them. I don’t feel like me anymore. Like I’m not even in my body. And with whatever energy I have left I’ve been thinking about all of this. What happened. I’ve been wracking my brain for reasons. Wondering if it all ties together.” He tilted his head to nose Dallon’s forehead, shaking his head in distress. “Why do you think it’s me? Why do you think they don't do it to you too?”

Dallon shrugged, tugging at the neckline of his shirt, touching him just to touch him. He didn’t really have an answer. Sometimes things just happened a certain way. He got luckier than Brendon did. Or he was just more defiant, or less of an easy target. Or people just hated Brendon because he was him. It was hard to tell. “Maybe cause I told a guy I’d suck his dick and scared them all out of bullying me.” He guessed, half smiling.

Brendon laughed quietly against the top of his head. He’d forgotten about that. It had been a long time ago, back before they knew each other. Brendon remembered the rumor about the quiet Weekes kid causing a scene. “You know, I never thought you were gay. I thought it was just an assumption that guy made and you were just fighting back.” He slipped his fingers into the spaces between Dallon’s. “I always wanted to be as defiant as you.”

“I never meant to be somebody to aspire to be. I just wanted to get him off my back.” Dallon admitted, and Brendon nodded in agreement. It sounded good in theory. It just wasn’t that easy.

“It seems like everything is happening all at once, you know?” Brendon mused, trying to sort it all out. He’d been trying for days and he couldn’t seem to figure it out. If it was connected or coincidence or the domino effect. If there was any correlation or if he was just desperate, trying to find answers where there weren’t any. “The bullying and the fighting and me getting drugged. It’s one thing after the other. I hate that.” He did. It wasn’t Dallon’s fault, and he was still wondering whether or not it was his own fault. He just knew now that there were people with motives and those were the people Brendon had to look out for. The only problem was that he didn’t know where to look.

“Well, right now things suck. Soon enough, maybe they’ll suck a little less.” Dallon nuzzled his face against Brendon’s chest and sighed when Brendon went to play with his hair. “I hated my meds too, when I first got on them, you know. For a few weeks they didn’t give them to me. Thought that it was just a period of depression because my dad died and that they weren’t necessary. I was never depressed before that. Not the same as you. They usually won’t give you meds if you go in right after some big tragedy. But after the attempt they put me on them as a last resort. Realized maybe it was serious. They made me feel like this too. I didn’t listen when they said if they negatively affected me, I could go in and change the meds to find ones that work better. I just thought they’d all be the same. So at some point, I stopped taking ‘em.”

Brendon tilted his chin down to look at him and Dallon drew a heart over his chest aimlessly. “I thought you were on them now.”

“I am. By the time I found it in me to tell my mom, it had been months since I stopped taking them. She made me promise to get better so I went on a different type of antidepressant and started a different dosage. One that was heavier because I was high risk. I’ve been better since then. Some times are worse than others, but the pills help. I’m better off than I was without them. It’ll take a little while to find what’s right for you. It’s hard to adapt and then switch and adapt again. But the psychiatrists know what they’re doing, babe. They’re going to give you what you think you need. They put me on a good drug because they thought it was serious.”

“It was serious. You tried to kill yourself.” Brendon reminded him, as if he had forgotten. Sometimes he did. It felt like lifetimes ago. Like he was a completely different person now.

“Which means that eventually they found the right thing because I’m better now, right?” He poked at his chin playfully but Brendon only let out a pained mewl, not really finding a lot of things funny these days. “Just don’t be so averse to letting them help you. I know you’re skeptical about taking meds but there’s no harm in trying.”

“I know. I’m trying to be okay with it. I’m trying to pay attention to what it makes me feel so I can tell the doctor when I see her again. I really am trying.” He promised, and Dallon nodded, didn’t doubt him, or if he did he didn’t say it. “It just...” He sighed, throwing his head back to look at the ceiling once more. “Trial and error. It seems like it’s going to take forever. I mean, they aren’t even completely sure what I have.”

“Well, it’s not shocking. It’s hard to tell. Psychiatrists aren’t mind readers. It takes time. Talking. I see why you’re frustrated, though. I guess it all seems so trivial. How can you measure a person’s complacency? Because it’s a lot less simple than asking a few questions at one time.”

“Because you have good days and bad days,” Brendon figured.

“Right. Smarty pants.” Dallon smiled against his chest, and Brendon let out a little harrumph. Whether it was content, Dallon was unsure. “I just think that sometimes we’re living in a flawed system, people like us.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged; it was all so nominal anyway. “I mean, depressed gay kids. We get bullied and ostracized and it’s hard, being someone so different with so many odds against you. I mean, I wish it was easier. Having professionals who understand what we’re going through.” He poked his chin again. “Being gay is hard enough. Being gay and mentally ill is a whole other story.”

“You’re right.” Brendon sighed. That was so sad. Having so many odds against you. He was right.

“It’s hard being in a constant state of confusion and helplessness. It’s hard to know there’s not a lot of people looking out for us. That’s why we have to be here to look out for each other.”

“I hate that.” He peeped, not knowing what else to say. It was tragic. Being put in such a dangerous box. He predicted that one day he’d find his box. He just didn’t know it would feel like this. “I’m glad we look out for each other, though. At least I have you.”

“Yeah.” Dallon agreed, examining his look of distress and sad eyes. That wasn’t too bad. They had each other. At least that was one more person than no one. “Yeah, at least we have each other.” He pressed his lips to Brendon’s upper arm and Brendon shifted, closing his eyes when he decided he didn’t care to see the world right now. “You okay, baby?”

Brendon made a noise of acknowledgment but settled back down, suddenly too tired to talk. “I’m sleepy.”

“That’s your body adjusting to the medicine.” Dallon sighed, he probably knew more about these things than Brendon did, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Slowly he guided Brendon against him in his state of somnolence, as this had siphoned all of his energy. Took one more thing away from him. Brendon curled up against him, beginning to mumble something, but Dallon shushed him, rubbing his upper back. “Hey, it’s okay. Just sleep.”

“You’re not a bad boyfriend. Not at all.” Brendon muttered anyway, and Dallon huffed out in disbelief when Brendon tugged at his shirt sleepily. He was out of it. He hadn’t felt like himself in days. “October doesn’t count.”

“Oh.” Dallon laughed quietly, and against his chest he could feel Brendon smile. “Okay. That’s the new policy?”

Grinning hazily, Brendon nodded. “Mhm.”

“Okay.” He smiled too, couldn’t help it when he knew Brendon was smiling, and reached up to rub the back of his neck. “Okay, then. Go to sleep, bumblebee. Don’t think about it.”

Brendon nodded minutely in compliance as his exhaustion took over, and within minutes he had dozed off against Dallon’s beating heart, the rise and fall of his chest lulling him to sleep. Only when he was certain that Brendon was fast asleep did Dallon slide out from him, leaving him to sleep alone in his bed. Dallon ticked him back in, wrapped him up in his fuzzy blanket like a baby being swaddled. Sometimes Brendon sucked his thumb in his sleep, anyway. He trailed his fingers gingerly over Brendon’s arm, careful not to wake him, before he stepped back and slipped out of the room, leaving the boy to his peaceful sleep. Brendon deserved a little bit of sleep.

The soft sound of his socked feet padding across the kitchen floor made Brendon’s mother look up from where she was wiping down the counter, making dinner after a shift at the diner. Dallon smiled at her, nodded his head in a greeting, and she smiled back at him, not saying that she was grateful he kept showing up for Brendon though that was what she meant.

“Hey. I’m just gonna make some tea.” He gestured to the counter and she nodded, stepping aside to grant him access to the teabags. “Brendon’s really out of it.” He added as a second thought, saying it just to say it.

She turned to look at him warily at the mention of her son. “Is he okay? He’s been so tired lately. It’s not like him.”

“Yeah, no, he’s fine.” He reached up to grab a mug out of the cabinet, one with a cursive B painted on it that he’d gifted his boyfriend at one point or another. “He’s getting used to the meds. Happened to me too.”

“Yeah, the doctor said that would happen. And I expected it to. I just didn’t expect this to happen to him. Not now. Not when he was just starting to seem better. This summer. He’s never been that happy. I thought he was getting better. He was bad for years, but...” She shook her head with a sigh, ostensibly distressed. “I never thought my baby would have to go through this. When you have kids you don’t picture them going through all the bad things they can go through. I want to help and I want to know what’s going on but it’s like he’s completely shut down. He won’t talk to any of us. These past couple of months he’s been so... distant. And he’s always been different, more reserved, but this isn’t him.”

“I know. He’s not handling this well.” He turned around suddenly, the mug tight in his grip. “Just... be patient with him, Grace. My mom was always patient with me. And I did stupid things and put myself in danger and she never got as mad as she should have at me. I think it helped a lot to know that she was just... waiting it out. Teenage angst and hormones and being gay and having a mental illness...”

“Not a good combination. I get it.” She smiled down at the washcloth in her hand and then left it on the counter. “Thank you for taking care of him in a way that I can’t. I know opening up to you is so much easier for him.”

“I think so too. But it’s not because he doesn’t want to open up to you. I think it’s because he doesn’t know how to. He doesn’t really know what to say or how to say it. I think I just get it on this level that no one else does. Being sick.” He put the mug under the Keurig and clicked a button. “This is a big deal for him. He’s gonna ease into it. Just give him some time.”

“I will. I’m trying.” She nodded respectfully, thankful for the help. He knew she was trying. Trying to make sense of it all, trying to take care of a boy who had been difficult to begin with, but she was trying. Brendon knew it too; he was just too tired to be grateful. He would be, though. In time.

“I know. And you’re doing a good job.” He looked at her again just to catch her warm smile, one that resembled Brendon’s sometimes. Not all the time, but sometimes he could tell. It was in the eyes. “You’ll adapt. As a family, you know?”

“I know. Thanks, Dallon.” She watched as he grabbed a spoon and dipped the teabag into the mug, full of steaming hot water. He’d go back upstairs, sit by Brendon and watch him sleep. Because he knew when to appreciate something good. He knew.

“Hey, Grace?” Dallon added softly, and she leaned against the counter as she gave him a nod. “I’m sorry I slept with Brendon. Or, you know. I’m not sorry that I did. I’m just sorry that I didn’t ask you first, or tell you, or anything. I was kind of under the impression that you knew. Not that he ever said that, but my mom knew, and he told his dad, but I know he worries about what you’ll think of him so I think maybe that’s why he didn’t. Because he didn’t want you to be upset with him or worry about him. Because we were safe, and we talked about it before we made that decision, and I just wanted to apologize because I feel like I could have approached the situation in a better way.”

“Thank you, Dallon, but that’s not necessary. I understand. I trust you to take care of him, and I trust him to make good choices. He’s an adult now. And I know how you feel about each other.” She smiled sincerely and he nodded, because he trusted Brendon to do that too. “I appreciate it, though. But even so, it’s his place to tell me. You don’t need to ask my permission. I want Brendon to be independent. If having sex is a part of that, then I should be okay with it. And I am. I’m trying to let him grow up. It’s hard, but I’m trying.”

Dallon pulled his mug from the Keurig and nodded again. His mother was scared to let him grow up too. The only difference was that he did it way too early. “I know. And I get it. It’s hard. Growing up. It’s... really hard.” He laughed to himself quietly, because there was something ironic to it. Growing up. He just felt like he was a stupid kid, running around in circles and trying to find his place. He knew Brendon felt the same. They were kindred spirits, in that way. “I just don’t want you to think that it wasn’t, like, planned. Because it’s something that I take really seriously. I take Brendon and I’s relationship very seriously.”

“That’s good to hear, Dallon.” She sighed; he didn’t know how relieving it was. That despite all the bad things, there was this one good thing. “I’m really glad that Brendon has you.”

“Oh.” He glanced up to see her looking at him sincerely. “Thank you. I mean, I’m glad he does too, but I need him just as much as he needs me. It may not seem like it all the time, but. He’s good. He’s really good for me.”

“Yeah, he is.” She agreed, smiling down at the counter again. He smiled back, glad she knew it, and as he stirred the hot liquid in his mug he promised to wake Brendon when dinner was ready. He held it close to his chest, inhaling the steam, and excused himself upstairs to sit with his sleeping boy.

Brendon’s mother leaned against the counter wistfully, listening to the creak of the stairs as Dallon climbed them once more. He was right. They’d adapt. She just had to be patient.


	34. Chapter 33: Two a.m. Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: SEXUAL ASSAULT
> 
> If you get triggered easily, please don't read this chapter, it includes graphic depictions of assault!  
> Stay safe!!!! xo

It was... weird, to say the least. Because Brendon had spent years being tortured, because one day he decided to come out as gay in public where his classmates would suddenly know the only thing about him that they thought mattered. And he had learned to adapt throughout high school, but the past two months were bad. And it wasn’t just because he had already been in a bad place, between everything that was going on with Dallon and his mental health and their relationship, but everybody just had something to say again.

The thing was that a few months ago, Brendon had hoped that his positive first day of school would set the year, but what he didn’t take into account was what occurred earlier in the day. The greetings from people who weren’t quite old friends, the looks he’d gotten when people remembered that oh, right. Gay little diner boy was back to school too. No blissful year without him. He thought that half his day would represent his ideal senior year, but not the other half. He should have known. It was like one bad omen.

But one peculiar thing that came out of it was that suddenly, everybody seemed too scared to return to the game of cat and mouse. Because Brendon Urie, the chosen target, had been drugged and passed out right there in front of the whole school. Following the incident were a few days off from school, and all of a sudden everyone was worried about it. Malicious gazes turned into sympathetic ones, and he was just fucking confused.

Was he supposed to wish for it back? Because most things he wanted to go back to normal. His life, his relationship, his family, his job. He wanted to stop being tired all the time. He wanted to rid the feeling of terror that he felt every time he wondered who so cruelly stole the night he wished would change his year for the better. But he didn’t want to be abused like he had been. He didn’t deserve it. Actually, he didn’t deserve any of it.

There was a group of kids from school at a table across the diner. Brendon knew because they seemed to be watching him, even when they were carrying on with their conversation and taking sips of their drinks. He felt like eyes were always on him, and as he avoided doing his job and sorted out sugar packets by brand and color like it eased his mind to do, he couldn’t help but cast glances at them until the sound of the bell above the door saved him.

“Hey, comrade,” Dallon greeted when tired brown eyes met his own. Brendon nodded his head in the form of a greeting as the boy slid into the seat in front of him at the counter. “What’s new?”

“You know. The usual.” Brendon tried to smile, though it resembled a grimace. He couldn’t bring himself to look like anything more than disgruntled and angry, these days. “What are you doing here?”

“I haven’t seen you in hours, I’m antsy.” Dallon retorted, and Brendon let out a huff that would have accompanied a smile if he knew any better. “No, I knew you were working all day and I wanted to see you. You seemed irritated at school today. How’s it going?”

“Shitty. I thought that being home and going to work would be different than school but it’s not.” He hissed. “Every time I work there always seems to be someone watching me. And it’s really weird and it’s making me uncomfortable and I just hate that everyone is always fucking staring at me. I mean, I know this is a big deal to everyone, nothing ever fucking happens here, but it sucks. People aren’t bullying me now. Not like they used to. They’re just... watching me. Like I’m gonna snap.”

“I think you already did snap,” Dallon said pointedly, sitting up straighter like he was worried of the same thing. Brendon wasn’t that bad, was he? Sure, his anxiety was bleeding through his wounds and soaking his skin, he was obviously petrified. And— yeah, Dallon was right. Fuck, he didn’t even wanna be here anymore.

“Fuck, go sit in the supply closet,” Brendon quelled in defeat.

Dallon’s eyebrows went up in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Go sit in the supply closet. I’ll be right there.” He insisted, pushing aside the box of sugar. Dallon sat back in the stool and Brendon nodded exigently toward the supply closet. “Go.”

“Okay, weirdo.” Dallon got up and, turning to give Brendon a skeptical look, went to let himself into the supply closet. What was he gonna do, murder him?

He closed the door behind him and took a seat on the ground, he’d been in here a few times once upon a time, where he’d shut Brendon up with a kiss that fixed everything. Where he’d bandaged a wound. Now, well, he was trying to bandage another wound. A bigger one, shot right through his body. But he wasn’t a doctor and it wasn’t as easy as it seemed. He couldn’t just stitch him up, not when he was still oozing blood and infected bravado.

The door opened and closed to reveal a distressed Brendon holding a takeout box full of french fries. He took a seat on the wall opposite of Dallon and set the box in between them, nodding his head toward it to tell him to go nuts. “I’m taking my break now. Tired of everyone watching me. Just wanna hide.” He grabbed a fry from the box. “I’m glad you don’t care about body image, cause I eat when I’m stressed.” He held it up in a ceremonious manner before he tossed it into his mouth.

Dallon half smiled and folded his arms over his chest. “You know I don’t care about that stuff.”

“I know. Good. I’ve gained a few pounds in the past few weeks. You can probably tell.” He pat his stomach, but Dallon said nothing as he reached out to snatch a fry. “Thanks for not being all that weird. I mean, you’re still weird, don’t get me wrong, but you’re less weird than most people. Everyone’s treating me like glass. And I appreciate you checking in and whatever, I’m just really, really sick of everyone babying me.”

“Gotcha.” Dallon nodded in understanding and grabbed a handful of fries. “I feel like that too, sometimes. Except, you know, I used to like having people worry about me. It was kind of shitty of me, I know, but I wanted people to care about me. I hurt myself and did stupid things and got attention and I just wanted them to think wow, I would miss him if he were gone. So I made sure they were worried about me so I knew I had the upper hand. Isn’t that stupid?”

Brendon shook his head. No, not stupid. Understandable, actually. Kind of sad, but then again lots of aspects of Dallon’s past made that feeling of anxiety twist in Brendon’s stomach. “No. I get it. When you feel alone you need to be reminded that people care about you. I don’t do that, though, cause I want everyone to leave me alone. I hate having everyone watching me all the time. Sorry.” He added when Dallon glanced up at him.

“Don’t be. I know I’m hovering. But part of it is just for me, honestly, it’s not just you. I get separation anxiety when we’re apart sometimes.” He looked down at the fries cupped in his hand like he didn’t want to look at him when he was saying it. Admitting it, maybe. “Ever since I saw you that night, I thought...” He shook his head, pausing to nibble on a fry. “I don’t know. I thought you wouldn’t wake up.”

Brendon furrowed his eyebrows, and he thought they moved past that. He was fine, Dallon knew he was fine. Did he— “Dallon.”

“No, it’s okay.” He shook his head dismissively, but it wasn’t.

“No, Dal. I’m sorry. Fuck. Are you okay?” He reached out to touch his wrist, fuck, he had no idea. He really thought it was okay. How didn’t he realize how hard this all was on his boyfriend?

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. I just.” He looked away again, and tears prickled at Brendon’s eyes like the villains they were. “I’ve been having nightmares about it. Like, every night. So I haven’t been sleeping and I’ve been kind of ignoring it because I know this is already a lot and I don’t want you to worry about me. Because I’ve been worried about you. I know you’re okay now, like, physically, but I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Wow. Fuck. I didn’t know. I should’ve checked in more, baby. I’m so sorry.”

Dallon shook his head again, very clearly adamant on not blamestorming. “No, it’s fine.” He assured him. “Psychoanalyze me?” He added playfully, smiling in spite of himself.

“No, Dallon. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Brendon whispered, looking away in thought. All this time, Dallon was struggling just as hard, and Brendon had no idea. How bad of a boyfriend was he? How didn’t he notice?

Brendon shook his head in disbelief, and Dallon watched the sullen look in his eyes as he glanced down at his lap. “What?” He shook his head again, too disgusted in himself to even say it, but Dallon urged, “Brendon, what?”

“I’m really shitty.” He blurted, and Dallon shut his mouth. “Because last month I was just pissed at you. For weeks, I was pissed at you. And I tried to make things better, I tried to reconnect and forgive and forget and I think after we talked things were okay. But I couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. Like maybe something between us had changed, that it wasn’t able to be fixed. I was scared, and I was mad because I thought it was your fault. I thought you didn’t care about me and you were only thinking of yourself and that we couldn’t be together if you were gonna be so selfish. And for weeks I didn’t know what was gonna happen with us. But then... this happened. And I’ve never been more wrong in my life. Because that was an isolated event. Because in the year we’ve known each other, Dal, you’ve been the best friend I could have asked for. Not that it’s your job, but you take care of me. And you prove every day that you care about and love me. And it was fucked up for me to even think about you being a bad boyfriend because the reality is that October was just hard on both of us and we both made some stupid mistakes. But they don’t reflect on us or you and how you love me. I’m sorry I thought so poorly of you when I was angry. I’m sorry I’ve been dismissing the good things by one or two bad ones.”

“No, hey, it’s okay. I’ve been doing the same thing. I was mad at you for the fight and I know I made so many mistakes and sometimes I do that. Sometimes I act on impulse and only care about myself. Like I told you before, I’ve been called out on it. And I hate that about me, because you are the most important thing in my life and I know I let you down. But I was mad, and I let my anger monopolize my feelings for you. And for a little while I kind of shut off our relationship, I guess. I pretended I didn’t have someone else to prioritize when I ran away because I wanted a break. I didn’t think about how it affected you. And I knew you were mad and I tried to make it better but honestly, Bren, I knew you weren’t okay with me. I knew you were thinking about ending things and I didn’t blame you, but... we tortured each other last month. It was a huge fucking mistake to fuck with each other like that. I don’t know why I did that to you.”

“I don’t know why I did that to you either,” Brendon admitted, reaching out to lace their fingers together. They were better together, anyway. A rough patch wouldn’t change that. “I guess it was all outside forces. Jack and your mom and whatever. I never intentionally wanted to hurt you. I know you never wanted to intentionally hurt me. And it can’t be easy, anyway, thinking you have to win me back.”

“Honestly, I kind of did think that. I mean, I could feel how estranged we were, Bren. And I hated feeling like that. I hate feeling like we aren’t on the same side.” He rubbed his hand aimlessly with the pad of his thumb like he was trying to soothe it into him. “October was weird, okay? And like you said, it doesn’t count. Whatever happened is behind me if it’s behind you.”

And Brendon nodded, that sounded perfect. He didn’t want any of him and Dallon’s disputing to crawl back in and wedge its way in between them. Dallon may have planted doubts in Brendon’s mind but he’d harvested those rotten thoughts and replaced them, this time with a lot more respect. Dallon was a good boyfriend, he was a good friend, and he was a good person. Brendon didn’t even have to wonder anymore.

“Yes. It’s entirely behind me. Now let me go, I have fries to eat.” Brendon smiled cheekily and tugged his hand back only to reach back into the box.

He’d been carrying this weight on his shoulders for weeks, trying to decipher whether or not he and Dallon were okay. He had been putting everything into boxes like he always did, the way they smiled, spoke, interacted. But he didn’t know where they stood. Now things were more different than they had been a month ago. And maybe it was by default, but just as well. If what happened to Brendon had to happen, then at least his relationship was slowly repairing because of it. You win some, you lose some.

“C’mere,” Dallon reached out for him suddenly, and Brendon looked up before Dallon’s fingers found his wrist. He tugged him across the narrow space to press their sides together, and all at once Brendon realized that maybe he didn’t have to be completely against the world. Maybe there was one person whose eyes he didn’t mind on him, after all.

“I wish we could stay in here forever,” Brendon said.

Dallon tilted his head against Brendon’s shoulder, tangling their greasy fingers together as Brendon nudged the box of fries to the side with the toe of his shoe. Brendon rested his head against Dallon’s too, and the boy let out a long, drawn out sigh while his eyes fell shut and the din of the world beyond the door persisted. “Yeah, Bren. Me too.”

* * *

That was it. Brendon was done. He was quitting his job, he was dropping out of school, he was going to become a garbage man or a lion tamer or a valet parker or something. Except, fuck, he had a sensitive nose and he was scared of lions with their big and vicious teeth and he didn’t know how to parallel park. Or drive, for that matter, and nothing ever worked out for him. Maybe he could just become a hermit or something. Just anything to get him away from everyone.

Brendon swung the green basket in hand back and forth a few times as his eyes scanned the aisle. It had almost been two weeks, but there were still a few things left on the shelf, some actual good stuff and then the Halloween rejects that nobody really wanted. He moved past the milk duds and went straight for the Reese’s cups, because duh, and then added an assortment of Hershey’s chocolates just for the fun of it.

A night alone. A Friday night, one he had taken off from work and attentive son and brother and friend and boyfriend duty all for himself. Because tension was building up, and he’d always been one to let things boil over until they spilled and exploded and caused trouble. He didn’t want to cause trouble. And he knew that that was just what it would end up being, so instead he grabbed a bag of sour patch watermelons and tossed those into the basket as well.

If anybody had asked, Brendon would deny spending twenty dollars on candy and snacks and hoarding them all to himself. But that would be a lie and he knew it. Because he was the one who walked down the street to the corner store, he was the one who filled a basket with the unhealthiest choices he could find. He was the one who only offered a suggestive look when the cashier gave him one of concern, because who spent so much money on candy that was so obviously for themselves? But he was the one who didn’t care, either.

He’d snuck up to his bedroom when he got home, organizing the snacks by brand before he very eloquently tore open half the bags and started the grand feast as he resorted to regression in the purest form: playing Animal Crossing on his old DS. Because the people of Jackson would never betray him. The tiny koalas and cats and oddly sized hamsters would never betray him.

Dally: hey whatcha doin

The text came when he was promptly beating a rock with a shovel, only for a centipede to come out instead of money. What kind of injustice was that, really? He set aside the device to stare at his phone for a second, there were no cell phones in the Animal Crossing world, just landlines that told your fortune, but for Dallon he’d make an exception. He could still hear the sound of the six o’clock town music as he typed back with one thumb, blindly grabbing at another sour patch watermelon with the other.

Bumblebee: tending to very important mayoral business wbu

Dally: animal crossing?

Bumblebee: ur so smart :’) wanna guess what else I’m doing

Dally: I’m gonna have to say doing something that involves consuming something unhealthy

Bumblebee: u know me so well bitch whatcha doin

Dally: netflix n chill with myself because my boyfriend cares more about watering his town’s flowers than anything

Bumblebee: actually I have the perfect town ordinance so nice try u really thought

Bumblebee: what are u doing this weekend

Dally: sleeping. I don’t think I can handle anything else at this point. the Brallon Break Weekend is for sleeping

Bumblebee: brendon dallon I get it that’s cute!!!

Bumblebee: me too I haven’t slept a lot

Dally: nightmares?

Bumblebee: yeah and I don’t know what to do about them. sleeping medicine is useless to me and the meds make me take these anxiety naps during the day so I’m not sleeping when I should be sleeping and when I am sleeping it’s just a fucking bunch of nightmares and I hate this I didn’t even know why I’m dreaming what I’m dreaming and it’s not something I want to psychoanalyze either

Dally: yeah I get it I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night with panic attacks and this hasn’t happened in a year. I just wanna hear your voice the second I wake up and I wanna know you’re okay but I don’t want to be annoying. but are you okay today

Bumblebee: baby don’t worry about me everything is fine

Bumblebee: and if u need me then u can call me I had no idea your reaction to this would be so bad and it’s scaring me

Bumblebee: I want u to stop worrying so much about me it’s affecting your health

Dally: I’m never gonna stop worrying about you and you know that. I’m taking sleeping pills now so I’ll hopefully sleep tonight but we’ll see I guess

Bumblebee: if not maybe I’ll be up playing animal crossing and we can gossip about my villagers or something idk

Dally: you’re a good boyfriend Urie

Bumblebee: I can only hope :) by the way you’re getting a DS for xmas we need to play animal crossing together it's literally my biggest fantasy

Bumblebee: ;)

Dally: I actually have one somewhere

Dally: and you’re weird

Bumblebee: what are u doing go find it and put that ac cartridge in and VISIT MY TOWN!!!!!!!

Dally: on it!

Brendon smiled, reaching out to grab at another sour patch watermelon as he went to open his gate. Maybe taking weekends off from each other was stupid. Because he really only felt safe when he was talking to Dallon. And what had made his previous year so wonderful was Dallon coming into his life, so was it really that much of a stretch for him to think that senior year would be just as great with that one common denominator?

What Brendon had wanted more than anything was to make this his year. He wanted to kill it, crush it, make it his bitch. He wanted to own it. But, well, in a two person battle it seemed he was never going to win. Because his year was just kind of already a blur of bullying and fighting and, well, the rest was pretty obvious. All he really wanted was for this to be his year. Well, fuck this being his year. Now he just wanted it to be one of those average years he always had, with a couple of downs and a couple of ups, but mostly just normal days every day. Nothing major, just work, school, hanging out after school sometimes. Maybe a couple of mean comments here and there, but overall a normal year. None of this drugging bullshit. None of the Big Brother bullshit the entire Boulder City population had on him, either.

Brendon's phone woke him up in the middle of the night. And he knew it consciously because the fervent buzzing and— because he stupidly forgot to turn off his ringer after a saint bernard puppy video marathon— loud ringing promptly made him jerk awake. So viciously, actually, that he smacked himself in the face when he awoke. He grunted as he squinted his eyes to see Dallon’s name through blurry vision, and he answered without a second thought.

“Hi, fuck, it’s two in the morning,” Brendon muttered, voice muffled against his pillow. But Dallon took in a shuddering breath and Brendon sat up in the dark, eyes not quite adjusting. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Dallon choked out, and Brendon realized he was crying. That was... it was another nightmare, probably. Dallon said that he couldn’t stop having them.

“Fuck.” Brendon pushed a hand through his tangled hair, head spinning. “What can I do?”

“Sing to me,” Dallon whispered, taking in a shuddering breath. Brendon sniffled, and Dallon begged, "please, Bren."

"Yeah. Okay. Yeah. What do you want me to sing?" He found himself frantic, tugging his covers up when his skin bristled at the cold. There were few times that Brendon had seen Dallon so vulnerable and this just happened to be one of those times. It was scary, the sound of him sobbing on the other line and Brendon not being there to help. He just wanted to help.

"Anything. Just, please,"

"Okay, okay. Shh." He closed his eyes, humming the tune of some song he knew through Dallon's car radio, and he slipped under his covers as he breathed out a few words. The rest of the world was sleeping, and this was only for Dallon.

He sang quietly, offkey, but Dallon listened, sniffling every few seconds as his breathing calmed. Brendon just wiped his own tears, didn't let his voice quiver as he sang, just did it. Dallon was quiet until Brendon was muttering the last few words of the song, he hadn't known half the lyrics and he completely butchered the entire bridge, but Dallon just needed him. There was no shame in needing someone every once in a while.

Dallon took in a sharp breath, voice hushed and shivering. "I'm scared."

"I am too, Dal. I'm okay. We're okay. Listen." He shushed him quietly. Dallon had always been one who Brendon had thought was chained to actuality and would never be affected by the unconscious thoughts his brain created when he wasn't watching. But here he was, and, well. Here Brendon was, too. "Everything is okay."

He sniffled. "Okay."

"Okay, hey. Stay on the line, baby. I'm gonna be right here. Go back to sleep." He hushed Dallon, promised he'd stay, and rolled over onto his side as a tear slipped down the side of his face. Dallon would be fine, and so would he. At least that was what he kept on a loop in his mind as he laid with his phone pressed against his ear, listening to his boy's breathing slow.

They would be okay. They had to be.

But tears slid down his cheeks with his two a.m. anxiety, and he didn't think he'd ever been this scared of himself before.

* * *

The bell chimed just in time for Brendon to glance up and catch apologetic eyes watching his. He blinked a couple of times, forcing a smile when the boy let the door fall shut behind him. Brendon was sorting sugar packets by color and brand as he aimlessly poured coffee into mugs his sister set in front of him, it was one of those hazy tired mornings where he wasn't quite sure what his place was, though he was having a lot of those lately.

"I am so sorry," Dallon whispered, sliding into a seat at the counter. Brendon shook his head and reached down to grab a mug from under the counter.

"No." He grabbed the coffee pot and filled half the mug, eyes flickering up to see Dallon shake his head too. But Brendon couldn't get the sound of his shaking voice on the other line out of his head. He was a nightmare in himself. Dallon was too pure for him sometimes.

"I don't need to be adding onto all of your shit. I'm sorry." He accepted the mug when Brendon pushed it toward him, reaching out to pluck a packet of sugar from Brendon's pile. "I never meant to tell you."

"I'm glad you did." Brendon leaned forward with a sigh that made Dallon glance up at him as he set the coffee down on the counter. "Look, Dal, can we just be honest with each other? Because I feel like shit just keeps happening and we keep hiding everything because we're scared to tell the truth. Because right now you are the only person I feel comfortable with and I want you to be comfortable with me too. I mean, I know all this just happened to me, but like... don't feel like you can't talk to me."

Dallon took a sip from the mug and shook his head apologetically, and sometimes Brendon hated that he felt like he always needed to apologize. He didn't. It was all Brendon's fault, anyway. "No, I know. It's just that I feel so guilty because of everything that happened between us last month, I fucked up and now I feel like I'm just gonna keep fucking up. It's in my nature to fuck up. And you're too important to me, I-"

"Hey, stop." Brendon interrupted. "Dallon, telling me the truth isn't fucking anything up. You're making it easier for me to trust you. I just wanna be able to trust you." He placed his fingers loosely over Dallon's wrist all of sudden, where his cold hand was wrapped around the warm mug. Quiet steam swirled up and warmed Dallon's face, almost as warm as the look in Brendon's eye when he added, "I'm sorry I scared you."

Dallon nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry I scared you too."

"I love you." Brendon took Dallon's face in his hands and kissed him long and hard. Dallon let go of the mug to reach his hand up and loop it around Brendon's wrist, leaning into his mouth like he needed it to remind him that he was there. And hell, maybe he did. Brendon couldn't stop thinking about that night. "I love you, baby. I'm okay. You're volunteering today, right?" Silently, Dallon nodded. "Okay. Go. I'll call you later. I promise."

"Yeah, I should probably go." Dallon pulled away reluctantly, taking another sip of the coffee before he leaned in to press another kiss to his lips. "Okay. I'm sorry, I'm gonna be waiting by my phone tonight. Call me, Urie."

"I will." Brendon forced a smile, and Dallon forced one right back. And they both knew it, but neither mentioned it. They didn't have to. That was one secret they could both pretend to keep. Dallon waved transiently before he disappeared, and all Brendon was left with was the sound of the city, all tucked into his home. Leaning forward against the counter on his forearms, Brendon ducked his head and sighed. This was supposed to be his year.

* * *

It was bad enough that people looked at him in the halls. It was bad enough that nothing interesting went on in his school so nobody would bother talking about anything else, and it was bad enough that the kids who had bullied him before now had something else to smirk at. But one day about three weeks after Halloween, Brendon was sitting in English class when a student entered the room with a slip of paper just for him, and that was the worst part.

"What does that even mean?" Brendon pointed at something that Ryan wrote in his college essay with the tip of his pencil. Ryan glanced at him, and Brendon set the pencil down on his notebook, suddenly too drained to continue scribbling half-heartedly on his paper. Colleges didn’t need to hear about his life. It was nothing worth writing about, anyway.

"It's a metaphor, Bren." Ryan rolled his eyes and tapped the line with his pen to prove a point like it was obvious, but Brendon kind of had a one-track mind these days.

Brendon sat back in his seat and picked up the mechanical pencil again. "You're weird." He told him, but Ryan just half smiled and nodded in agreement.

With a huff, Brendon went back to working on his essay before the door opened and closed and caught everybody's attention. Melanie, who had student internship that block, stepped into the classroom and over to Mr. McCracken with a slip of paper in hand. She gave him the note and lingered while he read it, and they both looked over to Brendon. "Brendon." When the boy glanced up, he waved the slip. "Guidance. Take your stuff."

Without a word, Brendon picked up his bag from the floor and pushed all of his things into it. He cast Ryan a glance of skepticism and headed toward the front of the room to collect the slip, and everybody watched him follow Melanie to the door— even Dallon, whose eyes met Brendon's right before he slipped out of the room. He let the door fall shut behind him, and Melanie greeted, "How are ya, Brendon?"

"Dead inside."

"Feel that." She punched his arm, and he appreciated that she didn't get into the logistics of his feelings. He couldn’t handle that much anymore; sometimes it was easier to pretend that he was just joking like people thought he was. "See you in math."

"Sure." He nodded respectfully at her and then started up the stairs toward his guidance counselor's office.

He knocked on the door quietly and let himself into the little room he’d only been in a number of times, but never long enough for him to get to know his counselor, Ms. Kenny. She glanced up from where she was sitting at her desk in her office.

She gestured to the big black chair in front of her desk. "Hi, Brendon, take a seat. How are you?"

"Fine." He closed the door warily and sat down. The smile she was wearing intimidated him, that this-smile-is-sugarcoating-the-truth smile, and he would hate to see what she would do if she found out he was lying about being fine.

She nodded like it was something interesting. "Good."

Brendon folded his arms over his chest and pulled his sweatshirt tighter around his body uncomfortably. He'd been to guidance before, for school related issues and for bullying, when teachers had reported a situation he always meant to keep hidden, transient visits where he swore he was okay. But sitting in the little office in the awkwardly sized chair with motivational posters tacked on every wall and his guidance counselor staring him down like she was trying to read his mind like the newest Guidance Counselor Magazine article... it was not his idea of a good time. "Why am I here?"

She hesitated to think up a way to sugarcoat it, because that was what counselors did. They sugarcoated things. Made people think they weren’t as bad as they were. Whatever she was going to say, it was bad, and no amount of smiles or little hard candies in the dish on her desk would change it. "We like to keep an eye on our students, especially ones who are going through tough times. And... well, you're aware-"

"That everyone knows. Yeah." He interrupted. He wasn't really a fan of sugarcoating, anyway.

Sympathetic glances were just annoying at this point. "Right. And we're obligated to speak to you once a week to make sure you're doing alright. The conference with your parents made us aware of everything you're going through, Brendon, and I'm worried about you."

He wiggled around in his seat a little. School chairs were so uncomfortable. "Don't you think once a week is a little extra? I mean, I was drugged at a party. I have depression. There's nothing I can do to change that."

"But talking about it will help, Brendon."

He disagreed. He'd talked about it with just about everyone, he spent hours dwelling over why it happened and how he could let it happen, it pissed him off every day since. And now he had to deal with being diagnosed, having people tiptoe around him, getting sympathetic glances everywhere he went, it was all too much. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He didn’t need to. "I don't think I want to talk about it. I've talked enough. I just want it all to... go away."

"If only it were that simple." She offered a half chuckle, half sigh, but Brendon didn’t return it. "Look, Brendon, your parents are concerned too. They have your best interest in mind."

God, if he hadn’t heard that one a thousand times. "I know that."

"Good. And listen, I was a teenager once too. High schoolers are mean, people talk. I understand that everything is rough right now. I understand if you don't wanna talk about it, but it's obvious to me and to everybody else— your parents and your peers, your teachers— that you need help.”

He looked down at his lap suddenly, trying to avoid the truth in her eyes. She was right, he needed help, and he’d been through the therapy ringer before. It helped, sure, but he had long since graduated and he wouldn’t go back. He couldn’t. It would be a step back. And, well. His parents had made him promise to talk to someone, so maybe that someone could be the guidance counselor at school. At least he knew her, at least she wasn’t a total stranger. At least this wouldn’t be a total reset. "Yeah. I know."

"Look. We'll talk about whatever you want. It doesn't have to be this whole situation. Just talking. School, the weather, your personal life, something funny you saw on your way to school. Anything you want. But every Monday, you'll spend an hour in here, more if you need it, and we can chat. We'll have fun." With that, she turned around in her swivel chair and reached out for the mini fridge. "You want some soda?"

He raised his eyebrows and peeked over her desk to see into the mini fridge, stocked with cans of soda for unsuspecting students like himself. She glanced at him for an answer, and reluctantly, he nodded. "Orange?"

"Yeah." She grabbed a can of Orange Fanta and a Coke for herself and then kicked the fridge shut. She handed the can to him, watching intently like it would build a bridge between him and getting better, so he thanked her and pulled the tab to open it though he knew it wasn’t that deep. It was just a can of soda; this was just a formality. It hissed and fizzled as he brought it to his lips. She took that as initiative to keep going, but Brendon knew she knew she was on thin ice. Everybody was. This was just one more person trying to figure him out and he was protecting him. "So talk to me, Brendon. What are things like right now at home?"

He shrugged and crossed one leg over the other when he leaned back in the chair, holding his can of soda close to him. "Weird. I don't know. Everyone's trying to comfort me and take care of me and pretend that these things didn’t happen but they’re doing such a bad job. And it’s just— it’s not helping at all. They're all walking on thin ice trying to make me feel comfortable with everything that happened but I'm just... annoyed."

"And what about your friends?"

"Um. They’re fine, I guess. Less try-hard than my family. They're trying to be normal, but I can tell they're still nervous. I hate that. Everyone seems nervous to talk to me. Not Dallon, though, I guess it's different because he knows what I'm feeling. He knows that it sucks to have people worry about you."

A smile twitched on her lips, and Brendon caught it but said nothing as he took another sip of his drink. "And you're spending a lot of time with Dallon? It's really important that you keep up your social life and surround yourself with people you’re comfortable with."

Brendon nodded and looked down at his lap, swirling the liquid around in the can to avoid her gaze. This was why he didn’t want to go to therapy. All the overanalyzing, all the advice. He’d heard it all before, anyway. "Yeah. On some days he's the only thing I can tolerate."

She sat back in her seat and took a sip of her drink observantly, and he hated that. The long gaze, the silence that followed when he didn’t know what else to say. He hated that silence the most. "So, Brendon, you and Dallon are dating, yeah?" Brendon nodded. It was no surprise that she knew it, it wasn't a secret to anyone with eyes. But still, it was odd for his guidance counselor to be mentioning his relationship with a fellow student. Did teachers at school always analyze their students’ lives? Or was that just the job of a guidance counselor? "How long has it been?"

He scratched at the back of his neck. "Um, about nine and a half months. March first. Why?"

She smiled at him, actually smiled, and it made Brendon want to smile back. He couldn't, though, his face wouldn't let him move his muscles. "No reason. I just think it's good that you're in a stable relationship. It really helps sometimes, having people who care about you. You’ve got a lot of people who care about you.”

He tried to smile as he stretched out his legs. "Yeah, I guess it does. He's been a lot of help these past couple of weeks, trying to make things seem normal. And I know people care about me, my friends and my family, but Dallon... he gets it. Our issues aren't even in the same realm but we both get this emotional distress and it's really helpful that he knows what I'm going through, in some way. He knows that I need my space sometimes and that I can't be alone other times. It works really well, this situation between us right now." He realized then that he was half smiling again, but he couldn’t help it.

And she was smiling too, watching his cheeks flush red. "That's really good, Brendon."

"Yeah.” He tugged at the hem of his sweatshirt anxiously, suddenly aware that he was oversharing.

She noted that he wasn’t ready to talk much more about his relationship to somebody of authority that he still didn’t know very well, so she moved on with ease. “Is there anything else you wanna say? Anything that’s bothering you?”

He nodded, because, well. A million things were bothering him. Where did he begin? “It’s just... I’m being treated like a child. Everywhere I go, people are watching me to see if I’m gonna break. They’re all trying to infantilize me and it’s not fair. I know I messed up and I’m going through some hard stuff but it doesn’t mean I deserve to be treated like a baby. I’m seventeen.”

“I know, Brendon. And I know this just happened, but there are gonna be days where you feel better, and days when you feel worse. I’d like to talk to you more about your depression, if that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah. That’s okay with me.”

He put down his armor for an hour. An hour, and he was already letting himself admit what he had been bottling up for weeks. How for years he shut things out, how his old therapist had told him that he had issues he refused to confront. And in light of the Halloween incident he was confronting them, because now things were different. His indescribable feelings had been put into a box, and that was always what he’d been afraid of.

It was weird, opening up. Telling the truth. Not censoring himself. But she promised he didn’t have to, so he went off on a tangent once or twice during the hour. About his family, friends, Dallon, they’d gotten a little off track but she smiled when he talked about something that made him happy. Especially at the end of a conversation that almost had him in tears.

He wiped his eyes calmly as he stepped out of her office that day, thinking to himself that maybe it could work. Him talking things out, being honest and not bottling it up until he exploded. Things could work.

He felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders when he slipped out of her office and started down the hall, where he stopped and stood against the wall, took a second to breathe with his head tilted back against the wall. He would be able to do it. He knew he would.

* * *

Brendon was walking from astronomy to math the next day when he remembered that his teacher was weirdly strict about letting students go to the bathroom during class, so he took a detour and headed to the ones in the main hall. He could be a minute or two late, he decided, pushing the heavy bathroom door open to let himself in as some freshman he didn’t know ducked out.

It was just that he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. He never used the bathroom at school, it was gross and he always ran into people he didn’t want to run into, but he needed to go before he sat through statistics for an hour, wiggling around in his seat and trying to pay attention.

He set his backpack on the floor beside him and grabbed it up again before he went to wash his hands, itching at the thought of how many germs he could have touched on the handle of the door or the toilet or the faucet. While he was squirting some soap into his palm, the face of a boy he vaguely recognized came into his vision through the mirror as the bathroom door fell shut. Shane, his name was, Brendon remembered. He’d borrowed a pencil once or twice.

He looked up at Brendon and half smiled. “Hi, Brendon.”

Brendon forced a smile back before he looked down again, overly invested in his hands. “Hi.”

“I heard what happened on Halloween, that you passed out in front of everybody.” The conversation starter was not one of Brendon’s favorites, but he just gritted his teeth and retracted his hands from the sink to grab a paper towel and dry them off.

“Yeah. I’m okay now, though.” He offered. Why bring it up like that in the school bathroom? It wasn’t exactly the nicest detail of his life. Why not talk about the weather? That seemed to be a fan favorite.

“Good.” He went to wash his own hands in the sink casually, but the look on his face suggested that he had something to say, so Brendon quirked an eyebrow to tell him to get on with it. Places to be, you know. With something of a devious smirk, he added, “You know, that’s not what I intended. I didn’t want you to pass out like you did. I thought you would go to some room to lie down or something. It would’ve been so much more efficient.”

The sound of his voice made Brendon’s heart start beating hard in his chest. “W-what?” He sputtered, blood rushing in his ears. This... this was the guy that drugged him? And it was on purpose? It wasn’t meant for someone else? It... “Wait, did you... You...”

He turned around and rolled his eyes. “Obviously, Brendon. Can’t you tell? I’ve wanted to get my hands on you for months.” He took a few steps toward Brendon and Brendon took a few steps back, but he hit the wall and bumped his head against it. Shane was still smiling maliciously; he had an ulterior motive and he wanted Brendon to know what it was. “You like to flaunt your sexuality all over the place like it’s everybody’s business, right? You must want people to look at you. I mean, look at you.”

He leaned in close and reached out with both hands to grab his ass through his jeans. Brendon squeaked, wiggling to try and get away from him, but Shane wasn’t very short of Dallon’s height and he had more muscle mass than Brendon by a long shot. He was on the football team, his awards were hanging in the main hallway. Brendon couldn’t force himself out of his grip.

He was there, Brendon realized suddenly. On the first day of school when a group of boys called out teasing names in the midst of laughter as their favorite target tried to find his new classes. As he looked at their smirking faces and then down at his shoes with the hope that one day they would get bored, Shane was there, watching a timid Brendon make his escape.

And he was there when he was shoved into a locker one day in September, when he just turned to glare at the faceless stranger before he turned and resumed his walk to class. He told Dallon about it, and Dallon rolled his eyes and claimed that they were just looking for attention. Maybe Shane was looking for attention too. Brendon’s attention.

“You’re fucking sick.” He accused disgustedly, realizing just what this was. All this time, he’d been baiting him. The only out gay boy without the guts to stand up for himself. Tyler and Josh and Dallon were too strong. Too defiant. Brendon was weak and helpless and maybe that was the goal. Weak and helpless. “You fucking.... you drugged me!”

“And it wasn’t worth anything.” He used an arm to hold Brendon down; he felt his lungs fill with water, and suddenly he was drowning. He couldn’t scream, he couldn’t do anything but struggle to get out. He was suddenly too aware of his surroundings, and the bell was ringing to signal the beginning of class. “Sometimes you make it so obvious, Brendon. So damn obvious. I wanted to get to you, you know, and I could’ve too if your boyfriend hadn’t been crowding around you all night.”

“Leave me alone.”

He knew him from his freshman year English class. He was quieter back then, until Brendon had come out. He was one of many in the group of boys that pushed Brendon’s things off his desk, asked what color his nail polish was, teased him about how his pants were so tight that he may as well be a girl. They were all things he was familiar with, but he never noticed Shane until now.

He had been one of many worthless faces until suddenly he had an ulterior motive. He was a vicious boy. Brendon had seen it when he was a bystander, and he had seen it when he may or may not have noticed the malicious smirk when Brendon had to bend over to pick up the pencil and notebook they’d shoved off his desk. He needed to get away.

“You can pretend all you want, Urie, but people like you all want one thing.” People like him. It was an act of hatred and anger. Projection of internalized self-deprecation. Brendon was just a victim of it.

“Please...” Brendon’s voice cracked and his eyes filled with tears, but he couldn’t say anything else. All he could do was throw his head back and whimper helplessly as an unfamiliar hand popped the button on his jeans. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. He was supposed to be on his way to math, on his way to sit down beside Dallon and Melanie so they could talk about least squares regression lines or something. But he wasn’t. He was here.

He prayed that Dallon would read his mind and come save him, but his mind powers weren’t that strong and neither was he, because no matter how much he thrashed and struggled, he couldn’t get away from him. He was weak, and this stranger held him down, touching him through his boxers, and Brendon swore he would never eat another vegetable again if his body was going to do this to him. He couldn’t possibly be reacting. It wasn’t fair. He had a boyfriend. He didn’t want this.

He was a stranger. A bully. Brendon didn’t know him. It wasn’t his choice. This was just a boy with cruel intentions and misguided feelings and a deranged idea of intimacy. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get away. His body reacted to the unfamiliar touch, fearful tears slid down his cheeks, and he couldn’t get away.

“Stop, you need to stop.” He choked out desperately as the hand moved past the waistband of his boxers and teeth bit at his neck. He gasped at the sudden touch, unfamiliar to him and unwelcome, but his body thought otherwise.

Brendon squirmed, trying to break free from under the boy’s tight grasp, why was he so goddamn strong, and Brendon let out a groan of desperation and defeat and fear, trying to push against the wall and only managing to push further into his hand, an accidental act of betrayal. He and his body were different. This wasn’t Brendon. This was a foreign part of him he never knew until today.

“Stop!” He sobbed and tried harder to get away, but it was no use. His arm shifted to catch Brendon’s neck in his palm, and he choked and coughed at the lack of air in his lungs as he gasped desperately. This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t—

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see, his mind was hazy with regret and fear and against his will, his body betrayed him as he let out a strained sob. And just like that the menacing figure in front of him released him, leaving him coughing for air as he slid down against the wall and tried to regain repose while Shane went to go wash his hands in the bathroom sink once more, like nothing had ever happened. Like he hadn’t stolen Brendon’s innocence.

Brendon coughed and choked on his own spit as the boy smirked sinuously in the mirror. A terrified Brendon’s teary eyes met his, and he said, “You like to play the innocent card but who do you think you’re kidding, Urie? You’re just a fag, and you know what they say about us.”

Brendon glared up at him, body shaking. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You and Dallon, parading around like you’re some perfectly happy couple when we all know the score. You don’t know what they say about you. You’re just the lost little faggot, and he’s looking for a damsel in distress.” Tears slid down Brendon’s flushed cheeks. “That’s all you are, Brendon. We all know it.”

Brendon took in a shuddering breath. So what was his intention? The thought plagued his mind as he scrambled to get up, clutching at the wall desperately. His legs were shaking and his heart was pounding against his rib cage, but he could see a pair of eyes following him as he breathed in and out sporadically. He had been a target for bullying for years. But... a target because of what? Was this infatuation or disgust? Both? Neither? Had this been planned all along?

He had finally, finally reached his breaking point.

With trembling hands and not a single word, Brendon grabbed his backpack and rushed out of the bathroom, wiping his neck off with one hand and grabbing his phone from his bag with the other. His cheeks were stained with tears and his body was weak as he found Kara’s number in his phone. He found the music storage room down a side hallway and hid inside.

He let out another sob and started to pace until the line connected. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t go back to math and sit beside his boyfriend after what had happened. He couldn't— “Brendon? Aren’t you at school?”

“Dismiss me.” He cried. “Please, Kara, dismiss me.”

“What happened, Brendon?”

“I’ll tell you later. Please.” He sobbed, crouching down onto the floor to pull his knees to his chest. He began to rock back and forth frantically, trying to collect his thoughts. This couldn’t be happening. How was this happening? “Please.”

“Okay, baby, I’ll call now. I’m on my way. Are you okay?”

He ducked his head against his knees. He could smell the spit on his own neck and the musky scent of sweat on himself. With a whimper, all he could choke out was a simple, “No.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in five minutes. I’ll text you when I’m here. Let me call you out.”

Dropping his phone onto the wood floor beneath him, his fingers trembled as he buttoned and zipped his jeans. He was a horrible person. He was a horrible boyfriend, a horrible brother, a horrible son. How could he have let this happen? How could he let another boy touch him and kiss his neck and bruise his body? How could his body enjoy it?

Kara’s text came ten minutes into Brendon near hyperventilating on the floor of the storage room. He barely checked it before he darted toward the front door and outside without bothering to retrieve his dismissal slip, he didn’t need it anyway, and sped up his pace as his jeans felt uncomfortable against his skin and he felt the walls of the school burning against him.

Kara was parked in front of the main entrance so he climbed in, holding a hand over his mouth to muffle his sob. Her eyes were wide, he was trembling like a leaf in a hurricane, but when she reached out to touch his arm he jerked away from her and shook his head rapidly. He couldn’t be touched. He didn't want anybody to touch him ever again.

Kara nodded respectfully but eyed her baby brother, the way tears rolled down his cheeks like they had no plan to stop, and she would ask. She would ask, but not yet, and instead she turned to twist down the radio. Brendon nodded his head weakly toward the road. “Drive. Please.”

Her face contorted into a look of worry. “Should we go home?”

“No. Drive around. Anywhere but here.” He begged, so she put the car in drive. He wiped at his eyes frantically but the tears wouldn’t stop falling, he just shook his head and covered his face and trembled, and Kara watched him with concern in her eyes.

“What happened, Bren?” She asked carefully. It wasn’t malicious, but it was a demand.

“A guy just felt me up in the school bathroom.” He told her, not really knowing how else to say it. He was shaking in his seat, his extremities quivering, and he felt like he was going to puke. It sounded worse out loud. His body, his heart, his soul, all destroyed at the hands of someone who didn’t know him. Someone who suddenly had all control over him.

“A guy...? Like, not Dallon?” Squeezing his eyes shut, he nodded. “You cheated on Dallon?”

“I... I don’t know. Yeah.” He looked at her with desperation clear on his face. “I didn’t want it, though, Kara, I swear I didn’t. I went into the school bathroom and this kid was in there, this kid I knew from classes before, but I wasn’t friends with him or anything. He... he told me he drugged me at the party and he grabbed my ass and kissed my neck and touched me. Like. He fucking...”

Her eyes widened as he looked away in embarrassment, and something told him there was something she wasn’t saying. But maybe that was because his head was spinning and he couldn’t fixate on one thought at a time, and maybe that was starting to feel like a scary reality. “Oh shit, Brendon. Fuck. I’m sorry. Do you know his name? Can you report him?”

He nodded his head and blinked out some more tears that were clouding his vision. “I will tomorrow. I just can’t be there right now.” He hadn’t meant for his voice to be so hoarse and for his words to come out so shaky but Kara only nodded and didn't push.

“I understand, honey. It’s okay. I’ll drive you around for a little while.” She assured him, and then took off down the road in the direction of the highway without another word.

He stared out the window and Kara turned up the heat, trying to keep him warm as he shivered in the passenger seat. He tried to picture Dallon's face but he couldn't, because it hurt too bad. He was going to be so mad. Brendon didn't even know how to tell him. “I cheated on Dallon.” He choked out, coughing over his words.

“No you didn’t.” She retorted, and Brendon glanced at her with tears sliding down his pale cheeks. “You didn’t, Brendon. This guy touched you without your permission. You didn’t initiate it. You didn’t want it. You didn’t cheat.”

“But I was hard, Kara.” He would be embarrassed if it weren’t for his overwhelming feeling of self-doubt, but she didn’t make a face when he said it. “He was kissing my neck and touching me and I was hard. And I... fuck. I’m not...”

“You don’t have to say it, Bren.” She whispered reassuringly. And he didn’t. She knew.

He shook his head, disgusted in himself. “I know I didn’t want it, I really didn’t, but why would I... y’know, if I didn’t want something from him? What if there was a part of me that did want it?”

“Brendon, you’re a seventeen-year-old boy. You can hear the word naked and get turned on. That’s your body growing and your hormones running wild, there’s no deep, underlying motive. Your body would respond to anything right now. You haven't done anything in weeks. Months, even. Just because your body reacted when some guy touched you sexually doesn’t mean it wasn’t sexual harassment and it doesn’t mean you cheated on your boyfriend. Trust me, when you tell Dallon, he needs to know that you didn’t consent to it. He’s a good person, and he’ll understand.” And Brendon blinked, looked down at his lap. Took into account the fact that she said when and not if. He had to tell Dallon. Fuck. He had to tell Dallon.

“I hope you’re right.” He settled down and closed his eyes as Kara continued down the road with no indication of where they were going. As long as they weren’t going home.

Brendon was quiet for what seemed like hours, letting himself think about anything that wasn’t what was going on in his life, about that movie he and Tyler watched over the weekend or the museum Dallon had taken him to one day after school. The weird art pieces, he could probably paint better than those, the way Dallon left an arm around him the whole time. There were days where he could forget what happened, and days he couldn’t. This was a day he couldn’t.

A soft voice cut through the silence of the car and made it bleed away so that his ears let in the noise he’d been blocking out. White noise. Or maybe not. Maybe it was the opposite of white noise and that was what he couldn’t stand to hear. A black hole of sounds and his sanity, being swept away briskly like it wasn’t even there. “What are you thinkin’, little one?”

He shrugged lazily, but his eyes remained closed. Just like he was used to, just where he could imagine something untrue. Some sanctuary, a safe space for his breaking soul. “Sometimes when I’m in the car and I’m having a bad day, I close my eyes and imagine that I’m going somewhere better. I picture the road that leads to wherever I wanna go and I pretend that that’s where I’m going.”

She hummed quietly, but it just went into the black hole too. “Oh, yeah? Where are you going right now?”

Clear skies and mountains flickered in his mind, holding hands over the middle console of Dallon’s car and kisses at stoplights. “Salt Lake City.”

Her gaze fixated on his face, he could feel it, but he didn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t. “Why Salt Lake City?”

“Over the summer, Dallon and I went to Salt Lake City together, remember? His aunt has this lake house.” She nodded gently, though he couldn't see it. “There was this long road that went right from Salt Lake City to Provo, about a forty-five-minute drive, and this one night, we drove down it to go see this local musician at this little venue with a bunch of weird decorations and these stained-glass windows with bottle caps around them. It was this awesome place with this really small capacity. Dallon knew the singer because they were local. It was a really, really good night. And we drove down that road afterward with the windows down and the music really loud and I was so at peace. I wanna feel like that all the time.”

When he opened his eyes to look at her, she had tears in her eyes. Brendon was the youngest of the family, just a baby to her, and for a few weeks she’d been watching everything unravel within him like he just couldn’t hold anything in anymore. There was only so much one person could deal with. Brendon was fragile, delicate, pure and small and already so unknowing. There wasn’t much he could take. He couldn’t handle all that weight on his shoulders, and he couldn’t handle all the eyes on him, either. Or the hands, or the feeling of disgust when his skin prickled and his hands shook. He wasn’t well equipped for this.

“I hope you feel better soon.” She told him sincerely. She didn’t know what else to say, but Brendon didn’t need all that sympathy anyway. He just needed someone to listen. He just needed his mind to quiet down, for a second.

“Thanks.” He couldn’t even be bothered to force a smile or anything of the sorts. He closed his eyes again and settled back in his seat, trying to mentally prepare for his arrival home. He didn’t want to go home. He wanted to close his eyes and be in Salt Lake City again, warm and smiling and not pretending.

Was he right? Was Brendon just always pretending?

When Kara parked in the lot behind the diner, Brendon clung to his seat for a minute before he let himself climb out of the car and follow her into the house. He had to tell them, and then he had to tell Dallon, and then he had to live with it. He knew he just had to tear the bandaid off, but the thing was that he never knew how. He always kind of just left it on until it was too itchy, and then grimaced as he tore it off, leaving his skin irritated and red. That was how everything felt, these days.

As she stepped in through the glass door with her little brother under her arm, Kara poked her head into the kitchen, told her parents that Brendon needed to talk to them and that it couldn’t wait. So they reluctantly left the diner to Brendon’s brothers for a few minutes while Brendon sat down beside Kara and across from his parents at the kitchen table and explained slowly what happened in full detail, leaving nothing to the imagination despite how painful it was.

He told them all about Shane, what he knew about him, how he knew he was bad news but didn’t ever talk to him. How he had been in the groups of boys that bullied Brendon, never really said anything but always lingered like his mind was elsewhere and his motives were unclear. Brendon knew them now.

Wiping his eyes, he pushed his bedroom door shut behind him and found his phone in his pocket. The thought of what Dallon might say made his stomach eat at itself with anxiety and his hands trembled as he scrolled through his contacts. He was gonna blame him. He was going to be disgusted. Brendon was. Everyone else would be.

The line only rang for a second before Dallon picked up, and tears prickled at Brendon's eyes when he heard his voice. “Hi, baby. Where did you go today? I missed you.”

Brendon wiped his cheek with his hand and squeezed his eyes shut, the walls of his room closing in on him. “I got dismissed. Something happened. I need to talk to you.”

“Oh.” Dallon sounded hesitant and Brendon sniffled, taking in a shuddering breath. “What happened?”

“I cheated on you.” He cried, not bothering to sugarcoat, and it tasted like poison when he said it. Cheated. What an ugly, ugly word.

Dallon was quiet for a second and Brendon cried into his hand, trying to apologize but unable to find his words. Dallon couldn't either, as there were none to describe how he felt. He just breathed out for a second on the other line, fear, disbelief, tears. “What?” He asked, his voice sounding quiet and foreign.

“I cheated on you, Dallon, and I’m so fucking sorry.” He sobbed, but it came out like begging. “But it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t want it. I was in the bathroom at school and that kid Shane— you know him?”

“Yeah, I’ve had art classes with him before.” His voice was uncharacteristically stoic, like he was numb. He was. Brendon had done that to him. It wouldn't be the first time.

“Yeah. He was talking to me. He told me that he was the one that drugged me, and I can’t tell if it was because he likes me or hates me, and he grabbed me and held me against the wall and kissed my neck and he put his hand down my pants and I was hard and, and he jerked me off and I told him to stop but he didn’t and I came and I’m sorry, Dallon. I didn’t want it, and I didn’t say yes, and I’m so sorry.”

Dallon let out a breath he seemed to be holding. “Brendon. Wait. Just because your dick reacted a different way than you did doesn’t mean you cheated on me. You definitely didn’t. You were sexually assaulted. You... that’s rape. This is serious.”

Brendon wiped his cheeks again when another few tears rolled down them, shocked and somehow relieved, though it didn't deflate his anxiety. “You’re not mad?”

“Of course I’m not mad, Brendon. Fuck. This isn’t about me.” He lamented, and Brendon guessed it wasn't. “Fuck, are you alright? Of course you’re not, that’s a stupid question. I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

Brendon sniffled, pushing his glasses up over his head when they became too stained with tears. “I’m sorry too.”

“What are you gonna do?” He asked quietly, his tone changing completely as he seemed to realize the gravity of the situation. Brendon shook his head and sat down on the edge of his bed, because he didn't know, he had no idea, he just wanted to go back and change it. Change everything. He wanted to die, and it hit him then, that he had never truly felt like that before.

"I don't know. I don't know what to do." He cried, staring down at his knees. "I'm gonna— I'm gonna tell Ms. Kenny. And I'm gonna see what she can do. My dad is gonna bring me to school tomorrow to tell her. I'll see you in class, I guess. I just. I need to do something. I don't know. I don't know."

“That's a good idea. Tell her everything. Get him in trouble. You’re so smart. I’m so sorry.” Dallon rambled in distress, voice trembling, sounding like he were about to cry because he probably was, and Brendon felt terrible. He was a terrible boyfriend. He was a terrible person. “Do you want me to come over, baby?”

Brendon rested a hand over his stomach, churning with anxiety and threatening to surrender whatever was in it. “No, don’t. I really just wanna be alone right now. I feel like I’m gonna puke. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I don't want you to feel bad."

“I’m gonna feel bad either way, Brendon." He insisted, but the words hurt no matter how he had meant them. "I care about you."

“I know.” He tightened his fingers over his shirt on his stomach, closing his eyes and feeling the hands on his body, seeing that vicious look in his eye. “I think I have to be alone right now. I’m sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow. Come over after school, please?”

“Yeah. Definitely.” Dallon hesitated for a second, not wanting to hang up and leave Brendon all by himself. This... this was unimaginable. In a hushed voice that held nothing but total, raw, gut-wrenching truth, he told him, “I'm so sorry.”

A couple of tears fell and he wiped them away with the back of his hand like he could pretend they weren't even there. “I am too. But thank you for wanting to take care of me.”

Brendon couldn’t tell, but where Dallon was just dropping off his bag on the floor of his bedroom, the lights still off and his jacket still on, there were tears rolling down his cheeks at the thought. He looked down at his sock-clad feet defeatedly and promised, “I’ll always take care of you.”


	35. Chapter 34: A Bad Person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of angst!

Brendon was shaking when he got to school the next day, darting up to guidance and pushing through the door without knocking. Ms. Kenny looked up at him as she set her coffee down on her desk like she had just gotten there, unraveling her scarf and tugging her jacket off. She looked surprised to see him so early in the morning, but gestured for him to enter nonetheless.

“Hi. It’s early, Brendon. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

He shook his head wildly. “No. You know Shane... what’s his last name?”

“Senior?” He nodded frantically as he moved back and forth in front of her desk like he couldn’t stop moving. But he couldn’t, because stopping meant calming down, and calming down meant quiet, and quiet meant thinking. Thinking was a dangerous thing. Brendon had had enough of dangerous things. “Shane Valdes?”

“Yeah. Him. I saw him in the bathroom yesterday and he told me that he was the one that drugged me at the Halloween party. He grabbed my ass and put his hand down my pants and he was kissing my neck and jerking me off and I need you to do something about it.”

She sat up with wide eyes and he paced the small room. He felt like he was on fire. He should never have asked to go to that stupid fucking party. He should never have made Dallon go. Every stupid decision was his. “Oh no, Brendon. I’m gonna report it, okay? That’s not alright. Don’t worry, we’ll do everything we can.” Her speech was rushed. “Would you like to go to mediation with him?”

He shook his head. “No, that would require talking to him. I never wanna see him again. I just want him gone. I want everything to go back to normal.” He sat down and pushed his hands through his hair. "I don't know what to do."

"Okay." She picked up the office phone and he slumped back in the chair, squeezing his eyes shut so his tears wouldn't blind him. He shook his leg, fidgeting too much like he did when he was nervous, and Ms. Kenny said into the receiver, "I need to pull Shane Valdes out of his first class once the final bell rings, please. It's urgent."

He felt sick to his stomach. How could this have happened? He let it happen. He let himself betray his heart like that. His Dallon.

He got up again to walk tracks into her floor, and she didn’t tell him to sit down as she watched him move back and forth, back and forth, until the soles of his feet started hurting. “Did you tell your family about this? And Dallon?” She asked with reluctance.

He almost tripped over the carpet but caught himself and continued to pace, too wired to stop himself. Would tripping and falling and hitting his head and maybe snapping his neck be the worst thing in the world? “Yes. My sister picked me up, and I talked to my parents, and they’re really upset. Like, really upset. And so is Dallon. And I am too, I mean, I cheated on my boyfriend with some asshole that doesn’t fucking take no for an answer, and-“

She put her hands up and waved them around to get his attention. “Wait, wait. You didn’t cheat, Brendon, it wasn’t consensual.” She interrupted, and he rolled his eyes right there in plain sight. So that’s what they all said.

“That’s what everyone is telling me. Dallon doesn’t think it counts, but I do. I just feel so dirty and gross and used.” He ranted, glaring up at the ceiling like he was just screaming a big fuck you to God. He didn’t just feel dirty and gross and used. He was dirty and gross and used. How could he ever look himself in the mirror again?

“You are not used, Brendon. Please don't talk down to yourself. It wasn’t your decision. What he did was wrong, it was illegal, and he’s going to get in trouble for it. I'm not gonna let this go unrecognized. I will be contacting the police. I promise.” She assured him, but after too many high hopes he wasn’t falling for it again.

He’d heard it all from everyone else, but it didn’t make him feel any better. Everything was said and done. He had ruined his life. Pausing his pacing to turn and look at her, he snapped, “It’s just so frustrating. I feel so gross. Like something’s crawling all over me. I feel violated. And I thought I wanted to know who did it but now I do and I don’t feel any better. The worst part is that I feel like I betrayed Dallon’s trust and now it’s never gonna be the same. I’ll never be the same.” He shrugged hopelessly. “I don’t know what else to say. I’m disgusted in myself for letting this happen. Being drugged and now— now this. And for the past couple of weeks I’ve had these vivid dreams about what would have happened if I didn’t have anyone at that party. And I keep waking up and feeling like I’m gonna throw up because they’re so fucking graphic. For weeks I’ve felt so unsafe. I want to be able to have fun, consensual, loving sex with my boyfriend and now I can’t do that because every time I even think about being intimate with somebody I want to puke.”

She nodded slowly in understanding, like she was trying to process what he’d said, and he glared down at the carpet, hoping that the boring pattern would open up and swallow him whole. “Let me ask you something personal, Brendon.” She asked; hadn’t they been personal enough already? What was one more damn question. “Have you and Dallon had sex?”

He shrugged again. “Once. Depending on what you qualify as sex. To me, once.”

“Okay. So you know what it’s like to be intimate with someone you love.”

“I do.”

“So you didn’t feel the same way when Shane touched you.”

Dropping his gaze to look at his feet, Brendon shook his head. “No, I didn’t feel the same way.” He admitted, tasting bile in his throat. That's what everyone was saying. It didn't count. But it counted to him.

She gestured like it were completely obvious. “Then there you go. This was assault, Brendon, and he’s gonna get in trouble. He won’t get away with it. I promise we’re gonna figure this out, okay?”

Brendon wanted to believe her. And he was terrified, so fucking terrified, but he needed someone to trust, and that sure as hell wasn't going to be himself.

“Okay. Thank you.”

She nodded solemnly. “Of course, Brendon. I just want to help you.” She chose her words carefully, and Brendon believed them. He really did.

* * *

Brendon called his mother from the office before spending the whole first period pacing in the nurse’s office, panicking too much to go to class. He was up there in her office, talking about Brendon, making up his dirty lies and trying to spit on Brendon’s truth.

"Brendon, your sister is here to pick you up." His favorite nurse told him, the one that had bandaged his wrist when he'd sprained it freshman year, and without him having to ask, she helped him out to the parking lot.

"Thank you." He peeped, barely giving her a smile before he climbed into the passenger seat of his sister's car.

"Hey, little one." Kara greeted, trying to keep her positivity, though he saw the sympathy right through it. "I have some errands to run. Mama is working, but I could drop you off at home first, if you want."

"No. I'll come with you." He refuted; going home meant thinking, and he couldn't do that yet. She gave him a look of skepticism but didn't question him; they were all learning how not to these days.

She pulled out of the parking lot, and he let her drag her through the grocery store, letting him pick out snacks and making him promise not to tell their mom that he was buying gummy worms, though he had a hunch that she wouldn’t quite mind right now. It could be labeled regression, but it was just candy. At least he wasn’t trying to ride in the shopping cart. Kara said no to that.

As he stepped over the threshold to his home later that day, anxiety rose in his throat and he swallowed thickly. He thought back over the summer that it was a temporary feeling. Now he was finding that every day he was plagued by that same feeling, and all of a sudden it didn't feel so temporary anymore.

He curled up in bed, nuzzled up to his favorite blanket, changed into his warmest pajamas because they made him feel safe. He stared at the ceiling for a while, a long while, but somewhere in between a conversation with himself and the dinosaur holding a cake, he decided that he needed someone who would talk back. Someone logical.

“I never wanted to go back to this, Dal. Being scared of everything. I hate it. I want to go back to normal. Or whatever I was before now. I wanna stop being scared of everything. But how can I stop being scared when the world keeps giving me reasons to be?” He ranted, picking at his bottom lip, gripping his blanket too hard, breathing unsteadily while Dallon listened.

“I don’t know, Bren. I really don’t.” Dallon said, sounding like he was distracted. Like he was on a quest to find out the root of all the wrong in the world but didn’t want to tell Brendon that, so he lied and said he was on the way home from helping his mom at the store. Brendon heard a car horn in the background, and okay, maybe he was telling the truth. But it would be nice if he figured out where all the wrong in the world was coming from, anyway.

“I’ve been wracking my brain, trying to figure out how to make this better, but I can’t figure it out. What if it was me? What if I did something?”

“You didn’t do anything, Brendon. And... I don’t think you can’t make this better.” He sighed quietly, and right. Just as Brendon expected. “I think it’s one of those things that you just kind of have to live beside until it fades away.”

Brendon let that sink in, deep, deep in his bones until a shuddering feeling rattled through his hollow body, visceral and obsolete. He had to live with this. Dallon had always been his voice of reason, the one Brendon found safety in when everything around him was unforgiving. So he had to trust him. Pray that this would fade in time. He wasn’t so sure, but then again sometimes his judgment was so far off.

After they'd hung up that night he let his phone get lost in the blankets and he got up, tiptoeing in the dark; everyone was still awake, but it was getting late. No one was watching him. He closed himself into the bathroom, he just needed to pee, he told himself he wasn't going to look, but he caught his own gaze and stopped in place.

His shirt dipped below his collarbone; it was one of Matt's old crewnecks, way too big for him, but that was why he liked it. It was comforting. Except now there were bruises on his skin.

He felt sick.

He reached up to touch the marks and immediately felt his touch ghosting on his skin. This wasn't supposed to happen.

Tears slid down his cheeks, and he gripped his neck so hard that the bruises stung all over.

* * *

It all happened over the course of two days. Ms. Kenny called Brendon up early the next morning before classes had started to tell him that as he was having a panic attack in the nurse’s office— his words, not hers— she had an in-depth conversation about what had happened with Shane himself. And she said that there were some faults in his story, detectable ones, ones that he had looked away when telling and denials he had snapped too persistently.

During the day she pulled a few of his friends out of their classes, witnesses of his drugging the innocent boy. Witnesses that admitted that Shane had mentioned in passing his wanting to ‘get his hands on that Urie kid’.

Brendon could picture it, him saying to his friends yeah, I cornered diner boy Urie and made him cry, made him come in his pants like a pussy. He shuddered, because he didn’t really want to think about that. It was something of a hate crime, maybe. The intentions were unclear, but there was enough to get the police involved, not so loyal friends that could admit that drugging and assaulting someone probably wasn’t a nice thing to do, Shane’s obvious lies, a shivering Brendon who swore on his life that it was Shane who had done it and admitted to it.

It was some sort of trial, or at least that was how Ms. Kenny described it. The fact that he was kept kind of in the dark about it was to protect him, he was also told, but honestly he didn’t even mind. He just wanted Shane gone. Brendon hadn’t even gone to class, he had just stayed in Ms. Kenny’s room until he was taken in for police questioning right there in his principle’s private office, down on the first floor where a few policemen had escorted him past classrooms. The frightened boy had caught everyone’s gazes, once again becoming the talk of the town.

They asked way too many questions and it made his head hurt, but he couldn’t remember any of it as he sat in the principal’s office after his questioning, a blanket around his shoulders while they spoke to his parents too. He was tired, cold, hungry, and annoyed. He didn’t want to keep talking about this, but every word just helped his case. Everything he said would help. And it did. Because at the end of the day, the word “expelled” was still ringing in his ear after hours of talking to officers and trying not to cry.

He spent hours sitting in the office both with his parents and without, getting questioned by two police officers who were kind of treating him like he was a piece of thin glass on the edge of a crooked table.

"Did you know him?” One of them asked, trying to cover all the bases.

“He, um. He’s on the football team. I wasn’t friends with him or anything, but I knew him from around. He was one of the boys that refused to use the locker room at the same time as me when I came out. I’ve seen him laugh at me in the halls and cafeteria and stuff. I think he may have been a part of the group of people who made a mean account about me sophomore year. Yeah. I knew him.”

They wrote his words down, and his body felt cold.

He returned to class after being questioned and all eyes were on him. He didn't know what to do. What to say. Whether or not he should say anything. So he didn't. He just looked down at the ground, ashamed.

He handed a pass to his teacher and went to take his seat. They’d keep it hush hush, they promised they would, but nothing ever happened in his school and seeing the police there was kind of a big deal. Seeing the police escort him was an even bigger one. Not to mention his being diner boy, someone everyone knew but no one knew, Dallon’s words that were spoken early in their friendship had been tattooed in his mind forever. They all knew of him, but they didn’t know him. He didn’t want them to know him.

“Was it bad?” Was all Tyler asked when Brendon sat down beside him. Brendon nodded, but he couldn’t find the courage to look him in the eye.

“Yeah. Yeah, really bad.”

Brendon got backlash for it, and that was quite possibly the worst part next to his actually being assaulted. But Shane must had told his friends and just about everyone else some diluted version of the story, not to mention how painfully obvious they were about guiding Brendon through the halls for police questioning. He knew people were sympathetic about the Halloween incident, but there were a few guys that had chosen him out freshman year to tease because, well, Brendon was teasable.

And now those boys happened to hear that Brendon Urie was having “sexual relations” or some bullshit in the bathroom, as he had heard at some point in the hall because life was just trying so damn hard to imitate a teen movie, and Brendon knew there would be rumors. He knew. He knew they would be the ones spreading them. Sometimes they took a break, only when he wasn’t doing anything particularly gay and it got boring for them. Then, well, Dallon came along, and for a few months he got dirty looks in the halls, but that was to be expected. Dallon wasn’t exactly admired by any of those guys. They still didn’t have the guts to say anything to him, though.

At least Brendon had gotten better at avoiding them for a while, up until they started getting to him again when September rolled around. The beginning of the year always kicked the cycle back into motion. Dallon tried to defend him as much as he could, and even sometimes Brendon tried to glare himself, but he really just looked like a sad puppy and it was something else to laugh at. But... this was different. These weren’t petty games. And for a second, he really thought the Halloween incident was grounds for an unspoken truce.

But after lunch, Brendon was walking slowly to astronomy when a boy whose name he didn’t know shoved past him in the hall, something that had happened too many times for comfort, but the contact set off an unfamiliar trigger in his chest. His heart rate picked up, remnants of unfamiliar hands on his body, and all he could do was stare in disbelief as the guy mumbled, “Faggot.”

“Excuse me?” Brendon squeaked, turning to watch him step down the hall. The guy turned, looking a little shocked at the fact that Brendon had actually responded, but his look settled into one of anger. What had Brendon ever done to him? Was his presence really that terrible?

“Oh, nothing. It’s just that I don’t see why people like you have to parade around your sexuality like it’s something to be proud of. But I’m not surprised. You’re all the same.” He rolled his eyes and walked away before Brendon could get a word in, and his stomach dropped as he turned and started toward his classroom with tears threatening to fall. As if his day couldn’t get any fucking worse.

He met his boyfriend at his car after school and climbed in as soon as it was unlocked, he needed to get out of there, and Dallon greeted him with a quiet, unknowing hello before they settled into an amicable silence. Brendon was overthinking, and who knew what was going on in Dallon’s head. He kept whatever he was thinking to himself, biting his tongue, and Brendon wondered fleetingly what he wasn’t saying. Dallon had no cruel intentions and Brendon knew that, but there were some things that were just better left unsaid.

“Hey, Dallon?” Brendon spoke up all of a sudden.

Dallon seemed to snap out of some sort of weird worried headspace, a symptom of his own thoughts taking over. “Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you drink at the party?”

Dallon tilted his head away from Brendon for a minute, looking out the dusty window in front of him with solemn eyes that Brendon was too tired to read. He needed to wash his car. Brendon needed to wash his mind. Could a car wash do it? Dallon swallowed thickly, stalling for a second, Brendon was as fragile as he could get; words always died behind Dallon’s teeth for a reason. But then again Brendon was always upset, and things were always dying.

Turning onto a new road, Dallon shrugged like it didn’t matter, anyway. “My father was killed in a drunk driving accident. Since I recovered I haven't felt very inclined to drink.”

Brendon’s heart was in his stomach like he were on a rollercoaster with an unexpected drop. How hadn’t he thought of that before?! It had completely slipped his mind, and he was horrible. He was a terrible person and everything was his fault and... God, he was so stupid. He hadn’t even considered how his stupid actions would affect anyone else. His Dallon. Clawing at the hole in his jeans, he clenched his jaw to try and avoid letting himself cry. “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t think— fuck.”

“No, it’s alright. I don’t expect everyone to do the same. That would be unfair of me to ask. I just...” When he paused, a couple of tears dripped down his cheeks, and something deep in Brendon’s gut was churning. In a whisper, as if he couldn’t bear saying it, he admitted, “I thought I was gonna lose you too.”

“Oh, no, Dallon. I’m fine.” Brendon reached out to rub at his arm, and Dallon snatched his hand to tangle their fingers together. “Seriously. I’m not gonna die, I wasn’t gonna die, all I can do now is recover. That’s what Ms. Kenny said.”

“As long as you’re okay.” Okay, maybe, but not fine. Brendon would never tell him that.

Brendon just nodded, and Dallon nodded too. Nodded with Brendon and leaned in and inhaled sharply, took in the smell of Brendon’s shampoo and body wash. He was alright. Dallon needed to hear that Brendon was alright. If Dallon needed that confirmation, then Brendon would give it. Whether or not it was the truth. He couldn’t even really tell anymore. What the hell was truth, anyway?

“He got expelled.” He blurted suddenly, making Dallon turn to look at him again. His twitching fingers, the nervous frown. “They brought it to the school board, I guess they had him for questioning too, but they didn’t even do anything more. No investigations or whatever. They believed me, and Ms. Kenny said that there was some sort of evidence that he was the one who drugged me, like he told his friends or something and they thought it was fucked up too. But either way, they decided to expel him because sexual harassment and, y’know, drugging someone are serious offenses. I don’t know what else is gonna happen to him, but he’s out of school and I feel like I can breathe for the first time in weeks.”

“That’s really great, Bren.” He squeezed his hand. "I have a question, though. Why’d you wanna go to that party at all? You never... you never struck me as the party type.” He asked, and Brendon shifted in his seat. Yeah. That.

“I know it’s stupid, but... I wanted to fit in. I thought that maybe if I went, it would turn my year around. That maybe I wouldn’t be seen as some outcast and that we could find some common ground. Me, and... everyone else. Got tired of feeling like the enemy all the time.” He tilted his head against the window and sighed like it were all a distant memory. “I guess some dreams are better left alone.”

“I think you’re right.”

He turned to watch the way Dallon’s eyes were fixated on the road, narrowed, angry at something he shouldn’t have to be angry at. Just three months ago he was riding with his head out the window and a feeling of belonging. Stupid boy, how foolish he was to think that he’d figured it all out. Years of thinking about time and the way things were, fate, destiny, how everything was meant to be.

His theory had been challenged, sure; Dallon was what led that initially when he walked into Brendon’s life without so much as a single warning.

But Brendon accommodated, and he had everything back on track. He had it all figured out— where he belonged, who he was, how things were meant to be— or at least he thought he did. Now he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know who he was, he didn’t know why time worked in such mysterious ways. He didn’t understand why things happened the way that they did and he didn’t quite get why he had thought he had it all figured out in the first place. He didn’t have it figured out. He never had.

It was a temporary high, just a taste of what he wished was true. Brendon knew nothing. He was nothing. He really thought he found himself on that stupid drive. It was just a drive, just forty-five minutes from one city to another, wind and smiles and music blasting on full volume, two boys with light, love filled hearts and the desire to find themselves. Brendon wanted to find himself, and he wanted to find himself through Dallon. He wanted to find himself in Salt Lake City, so far from home, but maybe the lights of the city were too heavy for him. He couldn’t find himself because he never knew where to look. Naive, childish. Stupid, stupid boy.

Dallon set his backpack down on Brendon’s bed with no intention of getting any homework done and turned to look at Brendon, pulling on a comfortable sweatshirt in the corner of his room. “Hey, Bren?” Brendon made a noise of acknowledgment. “I have something for you.”

Brendon turned around. “What’s that?”

Wordlessly he turned to dig through his bag, shuffling through notebooks and loose papers only for a moment before finding what he was looking for. Brendon watched, confused, but realized as Dallon handed him a wooden frame what he was looking at. It was a sketch of a butterfly in colored pencil, one Dallon had done when he was younger. He could tell because it was less detailed than what he could do yet, before his skills had fully formed.

He held the frame to his chest, eyes soft. “It’s a butterfly. You know, from when I was little. This one was my favorite. It looked different than all the others, it was a lot brighter. It was kind of a misfit but in a good way, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Brendon’s eyes flickered all over the drawing, trying to process what Dallon had said to him back in his car that night. The butterflies, the people. People were inherently good. Were they? Brendon didn’t know anymore.

He wanted to think that. He really did. But he didn't have much reason to.

He set the frame down on his bed and pulled him into a hug without warning. Dallon rubbed his back, afraid he'd caused this, as tears pooled in Brendon's eyes. "Thank you," Brendon whispered, as if to reassure him. He didn't do anything wrong. He did everything right.

* * *

Brendon was sitting in his room listening to music when he got a notification, directing his attention away from the screen and to his phone. He squinted down at it, having left his glasses on his desk after he'd showered, and his eyebrows knit in confusion as he fumbled to unlock his phone. And there it was, right there for everyone in the world to see, and his hands started trembling uncontrollably as he quickly closed out of it. Fuck. Oh, fuck.

Dallon picked up on the third ring and he didn’t even get a word in before Brendon told him. "Someone made a page about me." He cried, and before Dallon could answer, he added, "On Twitter. Someone made a page about me. And they're saying that I'm a slut, and that I cheated on you, and that I'm open to having sex in the school bathroom."

"Oh, Brendon," Dallon whispered; he didn't even know what to say.

"I don't know what to do." He cried, and Dallon didn't either, for that matter. "Everyone's calling me a slut. And maybe they're right. I am a slut. I did a slutty thing.”

"They are not right, Brendon, you are not a slut." Dallon defended him but Brendon shook with his tears, his vision blurring.

"But to everyone else, I am. And I'm not shocked that people are saying that, they've always said that, but now... it makes sense. It's valid. Maybe I am what everyone thinks of me. Maybe I deserve this, Dal, I can’t even be shocked anymore. I’m not shocked. I’m just pissed that I did this to myself.”

"Stop blaming yourself, Brendon. You don’t deserve this. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were sexually assaulted. You said no. You didn't ask for that."

He sighed tremulously, he wanted to believe it but he couldn't. "I don't know."

"Listen. Stop looking at what everyone says about you on the internet. Text me a link to the account, I'll report them and contact Twitter to take it down for bullying, but you can't let what a bunch of clueless strangers say about you get to you, baby. You're stronger than that. You're smarter than that."

“I’m just so sick of being attacked for who I am. I don’t wanna do this anymore.” He fell back on his bed, covering his eyes with his arm. "Did I do something wrong, Dallon? This has happened to me before. Sophomore year, some guys in my gym class made a page about me too. Why does this keep happening to me? Am I a bad person? Was I a serial killer in my past life? What kind of bad karma is this?"

Dallon sighed, and Brendon did too, feeling guilty for dragging him into this. It wasn't Dallon's problem. Brendon just didn't know who else to talk to, when his mom would freak out and his siblings just worried about him. "You're not a bad person, my Bren. Sometimes bad things just happen."

Brendon snorted, pushing a hand through his hair. Sometimes bad things just happen. They all just had to happen to him. "Yeah. I'll say."

* * *

Weekends were blissful. Or at least they used to be, until Brendon realized that days off meant being alone, which meant he had plenty of time to think. Thinking was a terrible thing to do. Especially when all he could think were things he didn’t want to be thinking. He spent Saturday with Tyler, sitting on the floor of his bedroom watching Friends and eating ice cream out of the carton like it were his only aspiration, and Tyler was therapy in itself.

“Hey, thanks for hanging out with me tonight." Brendon gratified suddenly as Tyler closed his bedroom door, returning after having put their ice cream cartons back in the freezer. "I really needed it.”

“Hey, sure thing, buddy.” He nudged Brendon’s shoulder and Brendon smiled when he moved from his desk to his bed, feeling better already after having gotten his mind off of things. “Dallon told me about what people are saying online. Are you feeling any better? About that and everything else?”

Brendon shrugged. “Not really. I'm trying to stay offline but everyone at school keeps looking at me and they all know, everyone knows, and it follows me everywhere. And I'm terrified all the time. Like he's gonna pop out of nowhere and attack me, or that someone else is gonna hurt me because I'm an easy target. I’m just so sick of feeling like this. I wanna feel okay. I wanna go back to how I was before. The funniest part is that I didn’t even realize how much I loved my life until it was taken away from me.” He laid on his back and groaned, bringing an arm up to cover his eyes. “I just wish I could go back in time.”

“If only.” With a grunt, Tyler laid down beside him. “On the bright side, you’ll get a few days off for Thanksgiving, you’ll get to eat all day, and you won’t have to think about you-know-who or life at all. You get a little break. Use this as your break from life.” He gestured with his hands ceremoniously above them.

“Maybe I will.” Brendon decided, and maybe he'd delete all his social media apps while he was at it. “And I’m not gonna think about school or cheating on Dallon or being a complete fucking disappointment to everybody I know and love.”

“Stop.” Tyler shoved him in the side, self-deprecating and bringing up the bad stuff wasn’t helping anybody, and Brendon’s glare would have had venom if there was any left in him. He’d heard it all before, but hating himself was a part of him. It was what kept things balanced. Tyler turned onto his side, eyes settling on Brendon’s despondent features, and reached up to push his index finger knuckle against his cheek. “You know you didn’t cheat on Dallon, tiny.”

“I mean...” Brendon rolled onto his side too, tugging one of Tyler’s throw pillows closer and burying his face in it. “I let someone else touch me. I didn’t try hard enough. I know Dallon doesn’t think I cheated, neither does Ms. Kenny or my family or you, but to me... I’m not saying it’s my fault but part of me thinks that I did something. I had to have done something.”

“You can’t think that, Bren. It’s doing you no good.”

“I know, but I can’t help it. I just keep thinking like, did I provoke him? Did I do something to make him think that I... that we...” He shook his head in distress, it was all gray area anyway. “And now I just feel like a slut because maybe I smiled at him too much in the halls or maybe I was too nice when I worked with him in group projects these past few years. But I don’t even know if it was that he liked me or if it was like, internalized homophobia. He seemed like he was... mad at me. Like he was taking out his anger at me... on me. I don’t know. It’s so confusing.” He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. His head ached, and he was growing tired of thinking about this. “But if I was flirting, even if I didn’t know it, doesn’t that make me a slut?”

Tyler shook his head, and Brendon pushed his fist against his nose absentmindedly as he searched his eyes for the answers to questions he was afraid he’d never find out. He just had too many of those, and it seemed like nowadays everything was just going unsaid. “You’re not a slut because some guy likes you, tiny. Or hates you, for that matter. Or because of what a bunch of randoms say to you. You’re just dwelling over nothing. Have a little bit of faith in yourself and in your boyfriend. Nothing is wrong between you guys. You fought your battles, you dealt with everything that was wrong. He pushed past it and you need to too.”

“It’s not about what happened last month,” Brendon reminded him quietly, confused.

“I’m not saying it is. I’m just saying that I think while you’re in this current state, you’re trying to punish yourself because you think it’s your doing. You’re scapegoating yourself, and you need to stop. Don’t blame yourself for something that’s not completely in your control.” Tyler reached out to pat his arm, and Brendon frowned to himself. But what if it was in his control? That was the whole point, it seemed. “Just think about it. Take next weekend as a break and try to get your ducks in a row. Try to take care of yourself, Brendon. You deserve it.”

Try to take care of himself. If only it were that easy. But Tyler was right about the rest of it. There were only three days left of school and then he got a four day weekend for Thanksgiving. He would get the chance to rejuvenate and hopefully he would feel better by the time the weekend ended, like a fresh start. He walked into school on Monday with that mentality; three days. Three simple, easy days, and then he would get the weekend. He would see the rest of the year in this way too. He would count down the days until summer vacation, graduation, the rest of his life. This didn’t have to be forever. This could be fleeting. It had to be fleeting.

And he told himself that all week too. Three days, two days, one day. And then it was Wednesday, and he was suffering through one final day of classes. Take it one day at a time. One class. One hour. One minute, one second. Take it easy. He had created a mantra that he played over and over again, during class, his walks through the halls, he just needed a break. Just one break.

“Okay, you guys, to kick off your Thanksgiving break, we’ve got something fun planned.”

Mrs. Nelson made the announcement with a clap of her hands as soon as everyone had taken their usual seats that day in health class. Brendon dipped his head to give Dallon a bored look, one that was returned with a comical eyebrow raise and a set of wide eyes to match. He’d fallen for that one one too many times. Teacher fun and student fun were two different things.

“Doctor Sandine is taking over today’s class today to talk to us about sex! This unit of health two focuses on the human body. She’s very good at what does and she really knows her stuff— you’ll even get to practice putting condoms on. A mannequin, of course. But Doctor Sandine is a wonderful resource and she’s very intelligent, so if you have any questions, write her an anonymous note or ask. This is a safe space.”

Tyler sat back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest and hummed, “I already know how to put a condom on, can I go?”

Everyone in the class giggled, but Mrs. Nelson looked less than pleased. Tyler smirked at her like he dared her to send him out of the class, but they’d been testing each other all semester. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Mr. Joseph, let me tell you, I can assure you that you’ve got a lot to learn. And may I say that I can guarantee that you’re no expert. Now if you would be so kind, I’d like to carry on, please?”

Even when the class oooh’d and his friends snickered, the confident stance of Tyler’s never wavered. “Yes, ma’am. But for the record, before you assume anything, you might wanna ask my boyfriend.”

That got a smack on the arm from Josh and an irritated look from Mrs. Nelson amidst a room full of laughter. She opened her mouth to speak, but she was interrupted by an old woman knocking on the open door. When everybody glanced her way, a smile still lingering on Tyler’s face, she mused, “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

“There’s nothing to interrupt.” She shot Tyler a look of disdain and gestured for her to take the floor. Tyler made the same gesture, giving her permission to steal the attention that he had stolen himself.

Sex ed was boring: especially for somebody who wasn’t really into it. Eggs, fallopian tubes, whatever. Nothing Brendon was particularly interested in or had any business knowing. That half of the lecture was less than captivating, save for the muttered comments of his childish classmates, though even then he struggled to pay attention. But then they started talking about the male body, and okay, that could hold a little more of his interest. He even exchanged suggestive looks with Dallon when the teacher spent a solid five minutes talking about erections.

He sat bored in his seat, looking around at his classmates and trying not to think about how any of them would use this information. It wasn’t even like this was useful to him. He would have been a lot more interested if they spoke about anything he could relate to— not having to stare at biologically based diagrams about heterosexual sex. Not to mention the fact that anything related to the human body made him squeamish as of late.

“I’m already like, a master at this.” Tyler bragged confidently while the teacher handed out the condoms and the mannequins to put them on. Josh eyed him knowingly when he tore the condom open and accepted one of the wooden things that the teacher was handing him, and Tyler stuck his tongue out rather comically.

Ryan promptly burst out into a laughing fit when he was given one, and Tyler joined in while Josh shook his head at their petulance. Dallon was smiling down at the table once he’d accepted his own, but he was definitely thinking what Ryan was thinking. Still, he mumbled, “God, Ryan, you’re a freak.”

“Oh, baby.” Ryan smirked playfully and grabbed a condom from the center of the table. Everybody laughed again, save for Brendon, who was just staring. What if it had gone further?

“Bren.” Dallon got his attention suddenly, and Brendon looked up to see the boy handing him the material so he could participate in the ridiculous practice. “Here.”

“Thanks.” He accepted them hesitantly and tore the package open. How could he even think about this stuff? He fumbled with opening the package and listened half-heartedly to the conversation that his friends were having around him. He felt too tired, all of a sudden. He sat back in his seat, playing with the condom wrapper under the desk.

Brendon followed Tyler out of the classroom with an unsettling pit of anxiety in his stomach; he wished he could just throw it up. He wasn’t so repulsed by heterosexual relationships that hearing about male and female intercourse made him green in the face, but learning about the vagina wasn’t exactly helping his case. He was all for people taking advantage of the body’s many erogenous zones, people could do whatever and like whatever they wanted, but he really just wasn’t in a place to even be thinking about sex. Especially not after what had just happened in his very own school’s bathroom.

Tyler reached up to grab ahold of Brendon’s bicep, making him tense up just the slightest bit so that Tyler didn’t notice. “Are you okay, Brenny bear? You don’t look good.”

Brendon shook his head and made his way toward the wall so he wouldn’t be in anyone’s way or central vision. “I just... don’t wanna think about sex right now. I can’t even think about being naked without going into a cold sweat.”

With a hushed voice, he asked, “Are you saying you’re, like, never gonna have sex again?”

Brendon shook his head, and Tyler looked relieved. Why he even cared so much, Brendon didn’t know, but talking about it with someone other than Dallon felt more comfortable. Someone he didn't cheat on. “I’m just saying that I need time. Like, a lot of it. Besides, Dallon and I already take things slow, it’s not like we’re always itching to climb into bed. After all that shit with he-who-shall-not-be-named, I just wanna keep my body away from everyone and everything. It’s not Dallon, it’s me, and it’s gonna take some time.”

“Well, that’s understandable. But it doesn’t seem like it’s just that. You’re like, turning green. You look like Shrek. Swamp ogre doesn’t look good on you.”

And all at once, Brendon could see what he meant. Or rather, he could feel it, his stomach was churning and he felt like he was going to vomit. Or maybe he actually was, and then he got that weird watery taste in his mouth and he darted in the direction of the bathroom, so Tyler frantically followed him and went to grab his backpack for him when he pushed his way into a stall and dropped to his knees. Tyler grimaced and waited for him to empty whatever was in his stomach into the already questionable toilet bowl, and then immediately sat back on his heels.

“Are you alright?” Brendon only shook his head, so Tyler put both of their bags down on the floor and reached into his pocket. “I’m gonna call your mom and see if she’ll dismiss you, then.”

“Thanks,” Brendon muttered, recoiling from the toilet to pull his knees to his chest and sit against the wall of the bathroom stall. He felt like he was dying. He wished he was dying.

Tyler walked with Brendon to the nurse and waited for his mother to pick him up. He needed to get away from this school for a few days. He thanked Tyler again when his mother’s car pulled up out front, a worried look in her eye, and Tyler returned to class when Brendon climbed into the car wordlessly, praying to himself that word wouldn’t get out about this.

“What happened, sweetheart?” Brendon’s mom asked as he settled down in the passenger seat beside her, tugging at his seatbelt like it was strangling him. He shook his head, too embarrassed and enervated to think about it, and started picking at his nail beds to avoid her gaze.

“I, um. I puked after sex ed. And I know that’s so juvenile and depressing and I’m so stupid. I just feel... disgusted. Like, the thought of having sex right now just grosses me out.” He even felt awful saying it. Who the hell threw up after sex ed? You had to be really fucking sad to do that.

“As a mother, I should be happy to hear that.”

“It’s not funny, mama. I’m scared.” He ducked his head to pick at the little slit in his jeans, dirty from the bathroom floor. Dirty just like him.

She looked over at him and examined the sullen eyes staring downward, making him a little too aware of his surroundings. He was used to eyes on him. It wasn’t that. It was just that she knew him, and she got him, or at least she pretended like she did. Brendon was different from his family in a lot of ways. He was done pretending like he wasn’t. “What are you scared of, babe?”

“That, like... I don't know, I’m not gonna be okay again. I love Dallon and I want to be able to sleep with him again, and I know I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I don’t know what to do. I don’t know. And I mean, I’m not even completely comfortable with sex yet. Dallon and I... we’ve only done it once. It it. You know? And it was weird but it was nice and it was Dallon. And the thing is I feel safe with him, mama, and I wanna keep doing it and I wanna learn with him. I do. But now, like, every time I think about doing anything I just feel sick and gross and I don’t know how to get back to the way I was before. I wanna feel safe with him again. I wanna be safe. I wanna feel comfortable. But now, like, I’m just worried that I’m like, broken.”

“Brendon.” She reached out to place a hand on his. “You’re not broken, my baby. You’re just going through something right now. It’ll take time, but you’ll be okay. I know you, and I know how strong you are.”

“But what if I can never do it again? What if I’m always repulsed by sex and I just... can’t?” The thought was unbearable. He closed his eyes, tried to block it out, but he couldn’t. The feeling of an unfamiliar hand was ghosting on his skin.

“That’s not always a bad thing, Bren. You don’t have to have sex. And if Dallon loves you he’ll be okay with that.” She cast a glance his way, watched him squeeze his eyes shut, watched the tears slide down his cheeks. Watched pieces of him fall away.

“But what if my last sexual encounter was with... him?”

“Brendon.” She reached out with her right hand blindly with the hope that he’d comply, and as he opened his eyes to see her extended hand, he wiped his cheeks off and slipped his hand into hers. “You’re gonna be just fine, my love. You’re going to go through this, you’re going to live and learn and you and Dallon will be fine. I’m not going to encourage sex or anything, but your body belongs to you and you only. Remember that.”

He nodded without a word and rested his forehead against the glass of the window, letting his eyes fall shut again. It was his body, it belonged to him. But did it? Because he could have sworn that it had been stolen like a thief in the night.

That afternoon he sat in bed, holding his phone and staring at Dallon's contact information. He'd been shutting him out. Ignoring him. He didn't want to, he didn't mean to, but it just felt easier than admitting what he'd done.

He clicked on the call button, deciding that he may as well tell him.

He waited patiently with a buzzing feeling in his veins, thumbing the hem of his shirt, and as soon as the line connected, he panicked and instead of saying hi, just said a rushed, “I love you.”

“Hi to you too." Dallon laughed, and something felt heavy on Brendon's chest. “Is that what you’re calling for...?”

He grimaced again, and fuck, this was stupid. Who invented sex ed, anyway? Let kids figure it out for themselves. Better yet, let Brendon opt out. After years of dealing with what life threw at him, he deserved a freebie. “No. I’m calling to tell you that I got dismissed today because I threw up after sex ed. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I left or why I was leaving. And I’m sorry for being really gross.”

“Oh, Jesus, Urie. I’m sorry.” Dallon went quiet for a second, and Brendon could hear his car door slam shut, assuming that he was on his way home. He realized he hadn’t told him sooner that he’d left school; he was probably wondering where he was. Maybe Brendon was keeping him farther than he’d intended. “Are you okay?”

He tilted his head idly and frowned down at his blanket. “Yeah, yeah. I think it’s just because of like... having to hear about sex when I’m not in a place to be doing that. It’s just too much sometimes, y’know?”

“I get it. I’m sorry. This isn’t an ideal situation.” He sighed, and Brendon could hear the engine revving up. That familiar hum, the way he smiled to himself the first time he heard it because he was actually in Dallon Weekes’ car. Things were different now. “Are you okay otherwise? I mean... I know things suck right now, and I can’t attribute that to myself, but like, are you okay with me...? You’ve been distant.”

Brendon was quick to defend himself. “Yeah, no, it’s not you. It’s not anything you did. I just— I feel guilty about what happened. I know I didn’t give permission but another person touched me and that’s cheating. I never wanted to do that to you.”

“Oh, Bren, no. You didn’t, my love. Listen.” He sighed again, and Brendon sat back against his pillows. “I know that we kind of haven’t been on the same page. The fighting and me avoiding my problems and you... you blame yourself. Always. And I know you can’t help it because I do that too, sometimes. But sometimes that’s just... not how it works. And I need you to know that, okay? It’s not how it works. It’s not your fault. Please don’t think it’s your fault.”

“I know.” His response came in a whisper, and the engine stopped on the other line, if Brendon wasn’t mistaken. He was listening. He always listened. “But it feels like it is. And every little thing about the situation makes me think that it is. Because to make sense of things I put them into boxes, but I can’t do that. Because I can’t fucking figure out if this was because he liked me or hated me. Or hated himself. And honestly, I don’t know what’s worse.”

“None of it is ideal,” Dallon whispered back, his tone inscrutable.

“Right. Because if he liked me then it’s just fucked up how he went about it. And if he hated me then this is a hate crime, you know? It’s because I’m gay. And I’m just another statistic. And if this was all because he hated himself then what if I can’t help but feel bad for him? Because you have to be so fucking deranged to rape someone because of your own internalized homophobia. You have to be so fucked up. God this is so fucked up.” He ranted, more to himself than to Dallon. He just... needed to get his thoughts out, and Dallon was an outlet for that. That was one more thing for him to feel bad about it.

In a quiet voice, Dallon agreed simply, “I know.”

Brendon shook his head in distress, too disgusted to stop and think about the words he was letting spill out of his mouth. He was going wayward again, but fuck if he stopped. Because it wasn't just high school drama for the sake of being drama. It was traumatization. It was targeting. “He told me that I make it so damn obvious, Dal. And I don’t know what he meant. But he told me that I flaunt my sexuality because I want people to look at me, and that I’m a fag and we all want the same thing.”

Dallon went completely quiet, and Brendon couldn’t see the tears sliding down his cheeks across town, there in the driver’s seat of his parked car in the emptying school parking lot. They hadn’t had this conversation. They hadn’t talked about specifics. Brendon was too hurt. Or maybe he just hadn’t been talking to Dallon. Maybe he’d been neglecting him. “He made you think it was your fault.” But it wasn’t.

“And maybe it is.” He figured, and Dallon had to stop himself from interrupting. “I mean, he said that I play innocent. And I... maybe he’s right, you know? Maybe I just can’t handle anything and I just shut it all out. Maybe I’m doing what I said I would never do and I’m just... lying.”

“You can’t let him get in your head, Brendon. Please don’t let him get in your head.” He begged, but Brendon could hardly hear him over the incessant self-hatred. It was his fault. It had to be his fault. What else could it be? This didn’t just... happen. This was all done with motive. Everybody had a motive. Maybe he didn’t ask, but maybe Brendon didn’t try hard enough.

“I can’t help it, Dallon. I’m trying to make sense of it all!”

“But some things can’t be made sense of, honey. Not everything has a simple answer. And I know it sucks but you need to make peace with the fact that you don’t and can’t know his motives. It’s hard, I know, but it’s the reality.” Dallon tried, and he was right. He was always right, and Brendon just wanted answers. He just wanted to know where he went wrong.

“I hate not being in control.” He whispered, and with his free hand he reached up to wipe his cheeks. “And I’m confused, Dallon. I’m just... he told me to stop pretending. And maybe I have been pretending. And I don’t even... I don’t know what he meant by that, but I feel like I’m always pretending.”

Dallon listened worriedly as Brendon spiraled, blamestorming and crying and trying to fit something too big into a tiny box. He couldn’t confine this so easily. Maybe he couldn’t confine anything, and his plan had always been flawed. “What do you mean, Bren? What are you pretending?”

“I don’t know.” A few tears slid down his cheeks. “That I’m happy? That I haven’t felt lonely and out of place my whole fucking life? Because I have. And I don’t want to think anymore, Dallon. I don’t wanna keep hearing what he said to me over and over and over because I want more than anything to forget it.”

“Bren, you’re spiraling. Take a deep breath, my boy, and listen.” His steady voice made Brendon lay back and stare at the ceiling, and he hadn’t realized that his breathing was labored until his chest started to hurt. This was doing nothing for him. He was just losing his mind. “You don’t know why it happened. And I know you, I know you want to know. Because finding a reason for it will make you feel better. But the thing is, Brendon, is that he’s sick. No matter his motivation, what he did to you was disgusting and harmful and sick. And he’s gone now, and he won’t hurt you again.”

Brendon sniffled, and he let his eyes fall shut. Instead of picturing what flashed behind his eyelids every time, he tried to picture Dallon. Dallon and his superpower, because even when Brendon was falling down the rabbit hole, Dallon still managed to catch him. “Yeah. You’re right.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He’d let his own improbity creep up again. “You’re right, Dal. Thank you. And I’m really sorry. I don’t mean to shut you out. I’ve just... got a lot going on at the moment.”

“I get it. I know.” Dallon assured him gently. “Hey, your feelings are valid. You’re allowed to be scared and confused. I just want you to know that he’s the reason why, okay? Not you. If you’re gonna find a way to make sense of it all, I just want you to make sure that in the process you’re not letting yourself believe the worst in you. You’re so much more than that.”

Brendon turned onto his side as he let Dallon’s words hang heavy in his ears. He was so much more than that. Well, maybe Dallon was right. Maybe there were a million factors that Brendon couldn’t possibly fit into a box because there was no box for them to fit into. There was no way. Building a box just for his messy thoughts would take far too much time and energy and Brendon had to focus that all on getting better. He had to accept what he couldn’t know, make peace with what he did, and he had to get better. He guessed he just didn’t really know how.


	36. Chapter 35: Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon's past chapter!

Fairytales are a staple of a person’s childhood. You sit down with your mom, tuck yourself into her side and cozy up while she makes up voices for the characters. The first time and you smile, the second time it’s just as great. Give it another night or two and you have it down, and a dozen or so and it’s ingrained in your memory.

Fairytales were a staple of Brendon Urie’s childhood. Because as the youngest and the most tender hearted, he was susceptible to falling into the trap of being a hopeless romantic, mess of a dreamer. In a land of broken dreams Brendon could only see magic. Magic, and he really believed it. The thing was just that he believed everything.

So he heard that Snow White ran only to be welcomed by seven dwarves that took care of her. She took a bite of the poisonous apple, but she got her true love’s first kiss. She met her prince charming and lived happily ever after.

He heard that Cinderella lived a life where she was on her hands and knees until she got one lucky shot. One lucky shot, and a pumpkin became a carriage and she picked herself up, dusted herself off, and went to the ball. She lost her glass slipper, but in the end she found her sense of self and she met her prince charming. She lived happily ever after.

He heard that the little mermaid wished to be on land because the world fascinated her to no end. She lived in effervescence but she let herself change for somebody when she should have changed for her. But she embraced the world nonetheless, explored a piece of her she never would have found for a small price to pay. As she found her voice, she found her prince charming.

Aurora was awoken by true love’s first kiss. Rapunzel was let down by her hair at her true love’s hand. Belle met her true love and vowed to commit no matter what. Pocahontas fell in love and defied all odds to be with him.

His mother kissed him on the forehead, wished him sweet dreams, turned on his nightlight and turned off the lamp. And he laid down and stared up at his ceiling, at the dinosaur holding a cake, and he made a silent wish: he would be like a princess. He would overcome and conquer; he would find his prince charming. Little did he know, he would find himself chasing that goal through and through.

Brendon Urie... all he really wanted was a fairytale.

* * *

Every Monday at three p.m., the trash truck came. The Urie family knew this by heart because Brendon was terrified of it.

He couldn’t help it, really. It was just that it was big and had those teeth that ate up the trash and that fucking beeping sounded like a fire alarm. Which sent him into a spiral thinking his house was on fire, and then there was that roar of the truck. It was so loud, and Brendon trembled when he heard it. So badly that his mother had to watch him carefully, make sure that he wasn’t going to have a heart attack or something.

But it wasn’t just that. Because Brendon was twelve and it had gotten so bad. It had built up from a null, he was six or seven when it started. He was fine, and then all of a sudden his mom turned the corner at the supermarket while he was choosing what type of cookies he wanted to buy and then he was panicking and sobbing in the middle of the snack aisle. Somebody had to call for help, and she was just an aisle away, picking up flour.

Because Brendon started to shake on his way to school, cried when he had to get out of the car. Because his mother got a call at work saying that she had to pick Brendon up, he was shaking so badly that they were scared he was going to get hurt. Because she and her husband had stayed up all night worrying about their youngest as he slept in between them, because he would have nightmares and scare himself awake.

And for a few years, it fluctuated. He made friends with Tyler, somebody who— for some reason— made him feel safe. He was harmless. It gave Brendon someone to open up to, but the problem was that he was the only one. Brendon had become indifferent, reserved, he pulled away when his family tried to care for him. His siblings could hardly talk to him without him bristling away, because the only time he wanted to be around his parents was when he needed to crawl into their bed and cry.

It kind of just crushed those innocent dreams of Brendon’s, the ones he had so tenderly fallen for. A hopeless romantic, now scared of all that would entail. He didn’t want to fall in love. He didn’t want to meet anybody. He didn’t want to have sex or get married or have children. He didn’t even want to leave the house, most days.

People were the worst part. Because there were some things he could control, like washing his hands to avoid the germs or avoiding particularly scary things like horror movies and the news. But what he couldn’t control were the mean things people said about him at school or online, where he couldn’t hide from it. What he couldn’t control were the fingers pointing at him, the names they called him, how they made fun of his nail polish and his tiny body and him. He couldn’t help who he was, and people were so cruel. Everybody was so cruel.

And then Brendon got older, and he was still just as bad. Having anxiety attacks whenever he left the house, crying when he had to make conversation, hiding from just about everybody, because he knew what they were capable of. When his parents asked, he couldn’t explain it. He didn’t know how. He just told them he was scared, because the world was... well, it was fucking scary. Had they seen the news?

But then he turned twelve, and he was nuzzled against his mother’s shoulder crying because of the sound of the garbage truck. And she knew that it wasn’t normal.

“We’re worried about you.” Brendon's father had said one day when they sat the boy down at the kitchen table. His mother nodded in agreement, and Brendon blinked. Worried about him? Why would they be worried about him?

“Why?” He asked quietly.

“Because, Bren.” He sighed in exasperation. “You’re scared all the time, and you won’t open up to us, and you’re completely apathetic when you’re not panicking. You lash out at us and you’re always crying, you’re twelve now and you just... it’s been years and we don’t know how to help. We’re worried, Brendon, and we’re afraid for you.”

Afraid? That didn’t make any sense. There was no reason for them to be afraid. There was nothing wrong with Brendon. This was just... who he was. He didn’t think it was anything to worry about. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” Brendon said calculatedly. “I’m just... scared.”

“But what are you scared of, baby?” His mom asked desperately. He raised his shoulders in a shrug, and she looked defeated. People? Bugs? Guns? Cars? Fire? Loud noises? The dark? Being alone? Death? Change? Take your pick. “Brendon.”

“Brens, we’re gonna take you to a psychologist and try and get you checked out, buddy. We'll find out what to do.” His dad added calmly, shushing his distraught wife. Brendon wasn’t dumb. He was smart enough to know what that meant. They thought he was crazy. They thought there was something wrong with him. Was there? He didn’t know anymore.

He stared at the floor, kicking at the carpet with the toe of his converse while his mother’s voice drifted in and out. But he sat quietly to himself, anxiety stirring in his stomach. He didn’t know how many other people had sat on this couch today, or if they ever washed the cushions, or if the air had been poisoned by toxic chemicals and he was going to die any minute now. “He gets bullied at school. People say mean things to him, he won’t befriend anybody besides this one other boy. And it makes him think that all people are bad. He’s scared of people.”

But was that so far off? Because every day in the news, you hear about murder and rape and every day something bad is happening across the world. How could he trust anybody in such a dangerous species? How could he ever trust anybody?

“We think that Brendon might be on the autism spectrum.” The woman announced in the midst of a conversation he hadn’t been paying attention to, and a quiet Brendon glanced up and squinted his eyes at her over his mother’s shoulder. “He exhibits behavior that suggests so. He won’t talk to other children, he hardly communicates, he throws tantrums. And judging by what you told me about his developmental delay during his toddler years, it would make sense that-“

“No.” Grace interrupted, and the woman looked taken aback. “No, Brendon is not on the autism spectrum. My doctor told me that it was a very high possibility but they did several tests and you’re wrong. He’s just scared. He’s scared all the time, and we don’t know why, he doesn’t know why, and it’s confusing for him and I need to know what’s happening with my son. I don’t need you to jump to conclusions.” With that she stood up promptly and reached out to take Brendon’s little hand. “C’mon, Bren, baby, we’re going.” She insisted. Brendon followed, not saying a word, but the sound of that doctor’s voice followed him for a long, long time.

* * *

He told his parents he didn’t want to go to therapy.

He knew it wasn't his choice, everybody he spoke to decided that the best solution would be to hand him somebody that could figure it out for him. Because if Brendon wasn't going to talk, then they would have to find somebody who made him. But the problem was that he really didn't know. He wasn't being difficult on purpose. He just didn't trust anybody. He didn't trust anything, either. No therapy appointment was going to make him admit to what was wrong because he didn't know what was wrong. What was so hard to understand about that? It was like nobody could hear him.

Brendon stared at the woman sitting across from him, his legs pulled to his chest in disdain. It had been twenty-seven minutes and Brendon would not say a word. It wasn't that he didn't want to, it was just that he didn't know what to say. It was just that the color of the curtain was burgundy and it was too dark, and it covered the window so no light was leaking into the room. It was making Brendon think that he was trapped in there, that she wasn't going to ever let him leave, and that maybe there was some alien abduction or tornado or explosion going on outside and everyone was fleeing but he couldn't see all the commotion. And his family would be gone when he stepped outside, and maybe the sun would be gone too, and then he was going to be stuck in the dark with a woman he hardly knew.

“Brendon, do you think there’s a reason you don’t talk to anybody?” She asked just then, and Brendon said nothing, only stared down at the bow on the top hem of her skirt. “Perhaps because you’re scared that they’re going to judge you, or say something you don’t like?” She suggested, but he was silent.

He didn't want to go to therapy, he told his parents. They had gone to psychologists, talked out the possibilities. They knew about his potential OCD and maybe that was manifesting itself in more extreme ways, maybe he had some other mental illness that needed further diagnosis, maybe he was seeing things that weren't there. But he had been organizing things for years and it wasn't that. He wasn't seeing things, either. Just imagining the worst. But he had seen the news, and he knew what the world was capable of. Frankly, he was curious as to why the rest of the world wasn't this scared too.

“Your mother tells me that you’re scared of people. Is this true?” Warily, he nodded. “Are you scared of me?”

Brendon nodded again, and she sat back in her chair. His mother had held onto his shoulders out in the waiting room, promised him that she was a good therapist and she just wanted to help, that he needed to figure out what was going on. He had nodded, agreed that his fear was starting to scare him too, and she kissed his forehead and told him that they would go out and get ice cream as soon as he was out.

She glanced at the clock. They had fifteen minutes left. "Okay, Brendon. I'm gonna let you go early. But I'm gonna leave you with this." She leaned forward, and his big eyes met hers. "I know that you're scared. I know that you don't want to talk to a stranger about your life. But listen, honey. You can't get better if you don't accept help."

Getting help. It seemed so much easier said than done.

And as Brendon walked back out into the waiting room to meet his mother once more, he reached out his hand for hers and tugged her right to the receptionist to make himself another appointment.

* * *

Brendon would never admit it, but weekly therapy was starting to help. He taught himself to trust his therapist, or trust her enough, at least, and he spent his forty-five minutes telling her about what he was scared of, his irrational fears, everything he saw the kids at school doing that he wished he could do too. She wondered if exposure therapy would work, or just letting him talk and trying to calculate what was wrong, but Brendon really was just a mystery. He used to think that made him interesting, but now he was just worried that it made him harder to deal with.

Brendon had these nightmares. He didn’t tell anybody about them, not Tyler or his siblings or his parents or even his therapist. He didn’t tell anybody. But he had these nightmares, and he didn’t really know where they were coming from. But in these nightmares, it was always dark. And it was always him, and he was always stripped bare, cold and alone and scared. He always had his arms wrapped around himself, and he was always looking around like he knew what was coming.

He didn’t know why his brain was capable of conjuring up such images. He didn’t know why his mind let him think it, why it didn’t create some defense mechanism that let him block out the bad thoughts. Sometimes he thought it was getting better, a week ago he had a breakthrough at therapy and told his therapist that he was scared of people leaving him and having to be alone, and she told him he was doing great. So why was this all coming back to him?

Hands touched his bare body. They were cold, with sharp nails and malicious intentions. He was crying, trying to get away from them, but these hands held him down and scratched at his skin, touched him, invaded his body. Each time he woke up in tears, and each time he had to climb out of his bed and crawl into his parents' instead.

It had been four months since he'd started therapy. Four months, and Brendon hated every single session, felt himself tearing open and bleeding everywhere when he spoke. He could feel his soul throb when they tried exposure therapy, felt his heart rattling when he had to admit his fears, felt his body breaking down when he whispered the truth. It had been four months, and Brendon was still trying.

"I have these nightmares," Brendon told her in one session, the words burning on their way out. "I'm being touched and hurt and... you know. I'm being raped. And I don't know what they mean."

She sat up in her seat, casting her notebook aside. She did that when she was intrigued. "Do you think this has any relation to any childhood trauma?" She asked, fearing the answer, but it would make sense. It would make so much sense.

He knew what that translated to, and he shook his head. "No, I was never raped. Or touched, or whatever. I swear I wasn't. So why am I having these nightmares?"

She tapped her pen against her bottom lip in thought. "You're scared of people, Brendon.” She said after a moment, and he nodded, that was just common sense. That was the only thing about him anyone really knew anymore. “You're scared of what people are capable of. And your fears manifest themselves in these nightmares of some of the things that you fear might happen to you. People leaving you, people hurting you, people assaulting you. You know what people can do and this is something that appears often in your subconscious mind." She scribbled something in the notebook, like she was taking notes of her own ideas, and Brendon frowned back at her.

"So I'm having nightmares of what I'm scared might happen." He concluded, and she nodded the affirmative. "I think I want to talk about that more."

"Okay. Sure." She jotted something else down and added, "I think it's a really big deal that you're telling me all of this, Brendon."

Brendon nodded, looked down at her hands and then back up into her eyes. It was. It really was. "I just... I wanna try to get better." He admitted. The first step to getting better was admitting he needed to.

So he did. And he told his parents too, that he was scared it was serious, just one more thing of him to be scared of. But he told them, and he called Tyler to thank him for being patient because it was a long and difficult process and he understood that. He sat with Kara that night and let her paint his nails and they talked, and he felt okay. It was just one of those nights that made him feel okay. Then he had another, and another, and for weeks he hardly realized it until it happened: the shift.

Brendon wandered down the street idly, listening to the pitter-patter of his sneakers against the sidewalk as he made his way back home. The heat was dense and lateral, coming up off the pavement and swirling around his exposed ankles. The August air was hot but sweet, and he could taste summer ending as he wiped the sweat from his forehead and stuck his key in the door. He let himself in and jogged up the staircase, greeted with frantic chatter in the living room of his home.

He poked his head into the room as he toed his sneakers off. Everyone was clustered together, looking frightened. "Hi." Brendon greeted quietly, confused.

His mom saw him first, eyes wide, and darted over to pull him into a bone crushing hug. "Brendon." She gasped, and he hugged back in surprise. "You're here. Where were you?!"

"I went for a walk around the neighborhood. Why? What's wrong?" He wiggled out of her grip, pouting at the tenacity of the hug and rubbing his fragile upper arms.

She took his face in her hands, like she were admiring him, and said, "Honey, we didn't know where you went. We thought you disappeared. We— wait." She retracted her hands, skeptical eyes fixated on his curious ones. "You went for a walk?" He nodded, not really getting the big deal. "By yourself? Out there?" Brendon nodded again, confused, and she looked shocked just then, like that was the most unlikely thing to ever have happened. And oh, wait. It was.

"Brendon." His father got up to envelop him in a hug, and Brendon frowned. "That's amazing."

"I mean, not really.” He shrugged. “I just went outside and walked around and came home."

"No, Bren, you went out alone. On your own. And you weren't scared." His mom clarified, and oh, wow. Brendon hadn't even realized. He was just sitting in his room when the breeze from outside wafted in, and it smelled so nice and felt so warm, and he decided that maybe going for a walk would be a good idea. And it was, he guessed. Because here he was. His mom had tears in her eyes, his dad was smiling, and there was that look of pride again. Him going outside alone got him a look of pride.

A lot of things could change in the span of a few months, he guessed.

And they did, and he did too. Maybe it was the exposure therapy that was working, that made him take planned walks around the neighborhood, or start to spend nights in his own bed without his parents, or even at Tyler’s house on days where he felt really good. Because whatever it was it was working, and it took months, months of talking about his feelings and realizing that he didn’t want to be scared. He just wanted to be normal. His therapist promised he would be. His mom promised, too. He wasn’t so convinced.

* * *

When you’re twelve years old, you hate everything. That’s just the way it goes. Because you spend an hour looking in the mirror and judging yourself, poking at your baby fat and making stupid faces and searching for a safety pin because maybe you think it’s a good idea to pierce your own nose. And it’s not a good idea, but every twelve-year-old will say otherwise. It’s just a given.

This cycle was no different for the twelve-year-old boy that had to see his beautiful older sister sitting across from him at the breakfast table, or his handsome and popular brothers joking around with each other as they got ready for school. As he listened to his mother sing quietly to herself as she cooked, as he kept his own mouth shut out of fear of what he’d say. This cycle wasn’t different. Because every twelve-year-old felt like not enough. Especially one that had just learned to stop being so scared of living.

Brendon Urie was not girly. No matter what he heard on TV about how boys wearing makeup just made them look gay, or what his brother said about that shirt making him look like a girl, or how he just wanted the pink converse because they were cuter than the green ones, he didn’t want to admit that he was girly. Because he wasn’t. He really wasn’t. He just... tended to like girly things.

And that was why Brendon stood and stared at the little black pencil on the shelf in front of him, displayed under a photo of a woman with perfectly sharp black eyeliner. He didn’t really understand why every makeup promotional advertisement he saw was for women, because maybe he just wanted to see a man with dark lined eyes. Maybe that would make him feel better about this... urge. Maybe.

“Brenny bear!” Tyler’s voice called, and Brendon’s eyes increased in size. He was running out of time, and his mind didn’t tell him to stop before he grabbed the pencil and slipped it into his hoodie pocket. He turned to follow Tyler out the door, hands in his pockets and eyes on the back of his best friend’s head, the swish of his plastic bag, the things he'd paid for. The thing Brendon didn't.

He was a thief. He was a liar and a thief and how dare he? How dare he. How dare he steal and lie and stand there looking in the mirror, staring into his own brown eyes and frowning because he really just wanted to look different. Not like the awkward child staring back at him. He wanted to look like... well, anybody else would do, really. Just not him.

But he hid in his room that night, when the house was quiet and he knew no one would interrupt him. And he smudged charcoal black in the corners of his eyes, smiling to himself the whole time. He didn’t know how to do it, didn’t want to look up makeup tutorials on YouTube, was too scared that someone would figure it out. But he did it in his little mirror, and then he pulled away and set the eyeliner pencil down and he smiled. He smiled, because he didn’t know that something so minuscule could feel so visceral.

Brendon Urie wasn’t girly. He just... liked to be pretty sometimes, too.

* * *

Brendon scratched aimlessly at his ankle as he sat with a knee pulled to his chest, listening to the boys around him talk about the girls in their class. The locker room smelled like boy's shampoo and body wash, not like the sweet strawberry scent Brendon used, and he kept his head down as they chattered, talking about things that Brendon really had no interest in. Because honestly, wasn't it a little degrading to talk about who had the best ass in the grade?

"What about you, Urie? What do you think?" Some kid in his gym class asked, and he glanced up at him. He wasn't wearing a shirt, just shorts low on his hips, and Brendon looked away immediately. Why did he feel like he was suddenly violating everybody's privacy?

"Um, I don't know. I haven't, like, thought about it." He muttered, pushing his damp hair to the side as he kept his gaze low.

A couple of them chuckled, and Brendon could feel his cheeks redden as he hid his face and faked interest in picking up his bag to dig through it for some gum or something, anything to deter them from looking at him. Judging him, assuming things about him. "What are you, gay?"

"No," Brendon said way too quickly, shaking his head. They all turned to look at him, and fuck, he wished Tyler was here to tell them all off. He wished he could be invisible. "No, of course not. I just. You know. I don't go around looking at people like that. God." He stood up promptly and slung his bag over his shoulder, hurrying out of the locker room before anybody could say anything else. He didn't want to be there anyway.

It wasn't fair. He had just turned thirteen, sitting in the center of a locker room where other boys showered and changed. The thing was, he was too young to be talking about these kinds of things. He was too young to be thinking about girls' bodies or... and the thought made his heart speed up... boys' bodies. He wasn't gay. He hadn't even gone through puberty yet. He was still embarrassed showering in the locker room with his peers, he still looked away when he accidentally averted his gaze from his own feet to see other boys' naked bodies. He wasn't gay, because if he was, then he wouldn't want to look away. He wouldn't blush when he thought about it. He wouldn't be so disinterested in thinking about... girls. Oh, fuck.

He was thirteen. He hadn't even gone through puberty yet. So how was he supposed to know what the hell he liked?

Am I gay? Why am I gay? Questioning sexuality. Is it normal to not like girls when you’re thirteen? How do I know if I’m gay? How to tell if you’re gay. Gay test. Am I too young to know if I’m gay? How to come out to your parents.

He clicked through his history and then pressed delete, erased it from his computer and his life but not his memory. Because maybe it was just a phase, maybe it didn’t matter anyway. Maybe he would wake up and realize that he liked girls. Maybe he never had to say it. Because if he didn’t say it, then he didn’t have to admit it. He wasn’t gay. He was just questioning, was all. Google said that was totally normal. He didn’t have to come out.

He laid on his back in the dark, staring at the ceiling and squinting at the dinosaur holding a cake. He didn’t know. He didn’t know, and that was the problem. Because Brendon Urie was focused on himself. He was dead set on finding who he was and living a life where he did things for him, because he wanted to put himself first.

He was young. He still had time for trial and error. Besides, was it really a big deal? It was just a sexuality.

A sexuality where people got ostracized because of who they loved. Where people were stoned and beaten and abused because some people didn’t understand that love wasn't a choice. Where preteens hid in the school bathroom because they were so scared that someone would be able to tell, because the lavender hoodie couldn't possibly mean nothing. Because the way he wore his hair was girly and so were his shoes and okay, he had his mom’s hips, so who cared if he shopped in the girl’s jeans section?

Everyone cared. He had fought his battles. Albeit silently, but he had fought them. He had missed half of a class because he was crying in the bathroom stall after the other boys teased him at recess. He had gone home and bottled up his feelings because his siblings didn’t have to know, and his parents shouldn’t have to know. And he had crawled into bed, ignoring his piles of homework just to cry himself to sleep, because he could have sworn that he was a good person. So why did everyone hate him so much?

He didn’t want to be gay. He was already different. He was already questioning his purpose and hating himself and debating each day whether or not to line his eyes with black and risk the bullying. He didn’t need to be the gay kid that none of the other boys would go near after gym class because who knew if he was watching? He didn’t need to be called names and he certainly didn’t need to think even worse of himself. He had already been born in the most convoluted way, and he didn’t need more issues.

But he couldn’t help it. Because he didn’t like girls. It wasn’t because he hadn’t found the right girl, it wasn’t because none of them were pretty enough. He thought every girl was beautiful in their own way. It was just that boys caught his eye more. It was just that he was having an interesting realization about who he really was. And that was someone he hadn’t expected to be. Someone who knew he couldn’t kid himself any longer. Brendon wasn’t confused or questioning. He was gay.

He was gay, and he muttered it to his best friend on the walk to school the next day.

* * *

He and Tyler had practiced this in the privacy of the boy’s room for weeks. Two words. I’m gay. So simple, yet so complicated. Why was it so complicated?

"I can't do it. I'm not gonna do it," Brendon had said pathetically, eyes following Tyler pacing the room like he was conspiring.

Tyler folded his arms, judging him again. "What are you gonna do, Bren? Go your whole life without coming out?”

Hell, he could do that! What were the chances a boy would ever fall in love with him anyway? "Yeah! I'll just— I'll marry a girl! I'll marry a girl. How bad could they be?" Tyler rolled his eyes. "Come on, Ty! I doubt any guy will ever like me anyway. Look at me. I can totally dodge this."

"No you can't, Brendon. You can't be scared of this. Everything else, but not this. Not you." He turned toward him, and Brendon's shoulders fell. Tyler was right. Sooner or later things would catch up to him. He couldn't avoid who he was forever. But he could certainly put it off.

Until he started feeling guilty. Because at some point his subconscious mind had promptly decided that he was lying about who he was, and then he decided that maybe he could do it. How hard could it be? Two words. Two simple words. He just had to figure out how exactly to say it. He rehearsed it in the bathroom mirror in a whisper, to himself at night when everybody was asleep, he had a whole speech rehearsed. He even convinced himself that he wouldn't cry. And then he was standing in front of his parents one evening, and okay, he had rehearsed this. He had this down. He knew precisely how to do it.

His mom glanced up to see her youngest standing by the entrance of the living room and smiled at him warmly. "Hey, Bren, I was just gonna call you down. Dinner is-"

"I'm gay."

And fuck, that wasn't it.

His mom sat up slowly, his dad blinked in surprise, and fuck, what was he thinking? He should have hidden his whole life. His eyes were wide, he was frozen in his spot, and his hands were trembling when his parents looked at him speechlessly. He took a step back, and this was a mistake. He could have hidden it. Fuck, he didn't have to do it. Why did he do it?

"Okay. Um. Yeah. That's it. I just. Yeah." He took another step back and slipped in his socks. His mom sat up with a hand outstretched, and he caught himself as he tripped, horrified and not even trying to hide it. Just before he disappeared again, he added, "I'm, um. I'm not hungry. Okay." And then he darted up the stairs to close himself in his room, back to his hiding place.

It was hours. It must had been hours, because he had been burrowing so deep into his pillow that his detachment from the word left him unable to set two feet concrete in time. But the sky was fading and his stomach hurt and, okay, maybe he should have eaten dinner. Maybe he should have stayed downstairs and talked to his family because really, they didn’t seem... angry. Just confused. A little blindsided, maybe, but not angry.

He snuck into the room quietly, making sure to push the door closed behind him. His parents glanced up, his father shut his book and his mother set her phone down, and Brendon took a seat on the edge of the bed. He didn’t know what to say, do, think. He just sat there, fiddling awkwardly with his fingers, and asked, “Do you hate me?”

"What? Brendon, no. Come here." His mother sat up and opened her arms, and he went to tuck himself against her chest. "Why would we hate you, honey?"

"Because I'm gay. And we're... we're not supposed to be okay with that. The church doesn't accept it. That's what the Bible says. And we believe that, right? That gay people are wrong. That I'm wrong." He sat up, wiping his eyes free of the tears that had gathered in the corner of them. He'd spent hours one night doing research, and he could have sworn-

“Brendon, there’s nothing wrong with being gay.” His dad assured him, moving around the bed to sit closer. His mom rubbed his shoulder, and Brendon didn't know what to say. "And we're not that Mormon, Brendon. Who you are is more important than what any religion says. If you know, then you know, and we aren't going to decide what's okay and what isn't."

"So it's okay?” He asked, wiping his cheeks. “You're not, like, mad at me or anything?"

“No, baby, we’re not mad at you. We love you and we want you to feel safe. We want you to feel comfortable.” His mother brushed hair out of his eyes, leaving his heart beating loud. He had never thought about being comfortable. After years of feeling estranged and distant from himself, he didn’t know how what comfort felt like.

Chills prickled his skin and he folded his arms, thinking about his own apathetic eyes staring at the priest one Sunday morning, tiny body in between his sister’s and his mother’s. But he wasn’t the one seeing it all. He was outside of himself; his body wasn’t his own. And that was how he felt every Sunday, like he wasn’t a part of it. Maybe it was a religious experience, or maybe it had exceeded that long ago. Maybe... “I, um. I don’t think I believe in God. And I don't think I wanna go to church anymore."

“That’s okay, Brendon.” His father’s voice made him look up again, blurring the edges of a boy who was told by a God he never spoke to that he was wrong. “Whatever you wanna do is okay. You don’t have to come anymore. You don’t have to believe in anything.”

“Okay. Um.” He looked away again, avoiding two pairs of brown eyes on his, and scratched at his thigh aimlessly. “I just... I know that you guys wanted to raise us in the church and I really tried, I wanted to believe, but all I can think about is all the bad stuff that I hear. Like that gay people are wrong and committing sins and I just... I didn’t feel like God was ever there for me. I just wanted to be honest.”

“Good. I’m glad you feel like you can tell us the truth.” His dad pat his shoulder, and Brendon had spent years not knowing how he felt. He may as well recognize it now.

"Honey." She slid her thumb across his cheek, wiping away the tear that had graced pale skin. “We’re so proud of you, Brendon.”

He sniffled, turning to look at that look of pleasant surprise in her eye. And she was, he had grown to recognize that look when he so much as went to the mall without crying, and it was strange how those two things earned the same reaction. “You are?”

“A few months ago, you were too scared to talk to us. And we were worried that, I don’t know, you weren’t gonna end up okay. But this is a big deal. This is a big step. You admitting something so big about yourself, and having an open conversation about it. I really think that therapy is helping.”

It was. It was, and that was why Brendon felt so bad about how much he hated it. Because spilling his soul hurt, and he felt like there was a hole in the middle of his gut. It was helping, and he still felt like there was something wrong. “Maybe. I just... I don’t like it. I don’t like talking to people about personal stuff like that. It makes me uncomfortable and it scares me.”

“That’s okay, honey. We can find somebody else.” His mom assured him. But Brendon shook his head, and she looked shocked when he looked up to meet her eyes.

“No, it’s okay. I’m gonna stick with her, I think. I wanna tell her this. And I wanna tell her more. I think, um. I think I need to.”

And he meant what he said: he really did need to keep opening up. Hiding wasn’t doing him any good. His mom’s eyes softened, and Brendon hadn’t seen her look at him like that in a long time. It was a look of... pride. “I love you, Brendon.”

Brendon smiled; he decided then that he wanted to see that look in her eye again and again and again.

The next morning, Brendon was just going to get a bottle of apple juice before he started his homework when the sound of two hushed voices got his attention in the kitchen. “I mean, Brendon?” He moved closer toward the wall, and his father’s voice continued, “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m glad that he knows who he is. But I never expected this of him.”

“No, I didn’t either. I’m just...” His mother paused, like she didn’t want to have to say it, but she didn’t know Brendon was listening in. She didn’t know she was being forced to reveal to him the truth. “I’m so relieved. I was so worried that he was going to end up one of those people with no feelings. Everybody told me to look out for him, and I thought... I don’t know. I thought he was going to be one to worry about.”

With anxiety spiking his bloodstream, Brendon looked down, stared at his socked feet and let his hands tremble. No one believed in him. No one ever believed in him. Who had said to look out? Was everybody just... watching him? Waiting for him to break? That wasn’t fair. Not when he had no say. He stepped into the kitchen, looking at them like he had just been hit by a truck and bruised all over, and they looked back, deer caught in the headlights. Caught. Brendon hated that look. How dissatisfying.

His mom put her hands out. "Oh, Brendon. We didn't mean-"

"No, I get it. Um." He looked down at his feet, throat closing around a confession. He’d been avoiding them for a while, pretending like they didn’t know, like his entire mind wasn't open for them. He wanted his secrets. He missed his secrets. "I'm not... comfortable."

They exchanged looks, cautious like they were right about him all along, like he was just some sociopath. Was that what people thought of him? "With what, honey?" His mother asked, careful not to step on any mines as he stared down at the floor.

"Anything. I. Um." He didn't know what to say, how to say it. Shaking his head to himself, he wasn’t expecting to deal with this today, he pushed his hair out of his face and looked up. Persisted even though every bone in his body ached. “I’m still scared a lot. It’s much better than it was, I’m learning how to make myself feel safer, and one of those ways is to tell you who I am because I don’t want to spend my life hiding. I need to learn more about that, who I am, but I think this is a good start. And I’m gonna keep trying to tell you things about my life, even though that makes me uncomfortable. Even though I’m scared. I’m gonna keep trying. I’m gonna work everything out. I want to. I don’t wanna be scared of everything.”

“That’s so good of you, Brendon. I’m so proud.” His mom reached out for a hug and he let her, because, well, he was kind of proud too. He had the right to be proud. He'd never really been proud of himself before.

He wasn’t expecting things to change so much. Or maybe he was, he didn’t really know. But his parents started to act different, more... like parents. Like they weren’t trying to baby him anymore. He never thought he would say it, but he was really glad when his mother swatted at his hand one day when he was reaching for the bag of chips and told him not to spoil his dinner.

But he was expecting his parents to be different. His mom was educating herself quick, quicker than Brendon would be able to educate her, learning what and what not to say, realizing that she shouldn’t out him so she avoided the subject with just about everyone, and Brendon appreciated it so much more than he could say. What he didn’t appreciate was the instant shift when he came out to his siblings at the dinner table one day, because he didn’t want his entire life to change.

He was the baby. He was the doll. They all treated him like one, anyway. His sisters would dress him up in their clothes, that was probably where his affinity for childish, girly clothes came from, not to mention shiny things and the color pink. But his brothers were different. They would throw him around just for the fun of it, tackle him, scare him, tease him. He was small, way too small for his age, and he was awkward and confused and it was fun to pick on him. He got that. But then he came out, and it was like he were an alien, some foreign creature they’d never met.

He was wearing his favorite sweater. The one two sizes too big with a unicorn and a dragon on it, the really cool one that he found at a thrift store downtown when Tyler had dragged him one day. He fucking loved that sweater. His brothers loved to make fun of him for it. No harm done, it was just that it was big and silly and childish and pink. And maybe it didn’t match the brown leggings he was wearing with it, either. Maybe he was expecting at least a snicker from Matt and Mason when he snuck into the kitchen that day.

“Morning.” Mason greeted, not even bothering to ruffle Brendon’s hair as he walked by, going to grab the carton of chocolate milk from the fridge.

“Hi.” Brendon peeped, standing up on his toes to grab a glass, though he was too short and couldn’t get it, and-

“Need help?” Matt asked, and barely waited for a response before he went to grab a glass for Brendon. He handed it to him, feigning innocence, but this was weird. He had to know that this was weird.

“What are you guys doing?” Brendon asked, snatching the glass and putting it down on the table. He couldn’t deal with this. He missed getting his nails painted and he knew he’d hate himself for saying it, but he missed his brothers teasing him. It was different than the teasing at school. It was coming from a place of love.

“What do you mean, Bren?” Kara asked from where she was making french toast at the stove.

“I mean, stop treating me different! I’m gay, I’m not dying. You’re all acting like I’m some totally different person. I’m still me. I’m just me that likes boys. Please stop treating me like you don’t know that. I don’t want everything to change just cause you think it’s weird. Stop being nice to me. Stop treating me like a fragile little flower. And you.” He turned and pointed to Kyla accusatorially. “Stop acting like painting my nails is a crime. It’s not!”

“I know, Bren, I just...” She looked down at her lap guiltily and shrugged. “I didn’t want to make it seem like I’m trying to make you fit some stereotype.”

“And we don’t want you to think we’re being mean because we have a problem with it. You. Being gay.” Matt added, putting a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “Because we don’t. Really. It just felt easier to tease you before you had a reason to think we were doing it.”

“I never thought that. And I would never think that. But you guys are just being weird, and it seems suspicious. Just treat me like you always would. Please. Everything is already so weird and I don’t want you guys treating me weird, too.”

“Okay.” They all agreed, and Brendon stared indignantly with folded arms until Kara wrapped her arms around him and made him hug back. He just wanted things to be normal again. And in time, it would be. His parents would grow familiar with it, educate themselves, and learn to understand. He would too, he found, and in time he recognized the aspects of him that were there and the ones that weren’t.

It was a school night when Brendon went downstairs to find a midnight snack, not exactly tired after having napped during the day, but instead of finding something to eat, he found his brother sitting in the kitchen like he had expected Brendon to come down. The younger forced a smile, went to find a bowl for some chips, and Matt watched him carefully in the dim light like he was afraid he’d scare him away.

“Brendon, I have a question.” He said, and Brendon turned to look at him in the middle of crouching down to root through the drawer of snacks. “Why are you gay?”

Brendon stood up straight, wasn’t sure whether or not to be offended though he was thinking no. “Um, I don't know. I guess I was just born like this. Why are you straight?”

“I guess I was just born like this.” He said, half smiling, and Brendon smiled back as he peeled open the bag of sour cream and onion chips. “Seriously, though, Bren. Since you came out I’ve been wondering. And, you know, I always kinda thought you would end up being the gay sibling, there’s always a gay sibling. You don’t wear the kinds of clothes you do and don’t end up gay. But I don’t get it, and I want to. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around people who don’t know anything about who you are.”

“Oh. Wow.” Brendon poured himself a bowl of chips and watched his own hands, not quite believing that this was the same brother that always picked him up and threw him just because it was fun. “Um, I don't know. I think it’s just, like, me being born with it. It’s like being straight, except I like guys instead. I don’t know why. I’m just not attracted to girls, I guess. Er, well. I don’t guess. I know. I tried.”

Matt furrowed his eyebrows. “So you didn’t choose to be gay?”

Brendon let out a humorous huff, if only it were that easy. “No, I didn’t choose to be gay. I actually kinda wish I was straight sometimes.” He admitted, and he hated to say it but it was true. Because when people didn’t even know he was gay they still made jokes about him, made correct assumptions and made him feel bad about who he was. Because he saw what kind of life it could give him and sometimes there felt like more cons than pros. Matt raised an eyebrow, disbelieving, and Brendon shrugged. “It’s not like this elusive little club. It’s hard, Matt.”

Matt sat up, eyebrows furrowed, and asked, “Are people mean to you?”

Brendon shrugged one shoulder and went to the fridge to find something to drink. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Bren, why didn’t you tell me? I’ll kick someone’s ass.”

“Stop. You can’t just threaten to beat everyone up all the time.” He rolled his eyes and found a bottle of soda in the fridge. “Everyone’s mean when you’re thirteen. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be used to it.” Matt retorted, and he was right, but what was Brendon supposed to do? He couldn’t just tell them to stop and they would. People didn’t work like that. Brendon had been around long enough to learn that.

“It doesn’t matter. People are gonna say what they wanna say. I’m gonna be gay for the rest of my life. I may as well get used to it.” He twisted open the bottle and when he turned, Matt was staring at him like Brendon had broken his heart.

And maybe he had, because people didn’t really understand until he explained it. Even then, Brendon didn’t know how to explain it. How people hated him because of who he was attracted to, how he wasn’t even out at school, yet people whispered things about Brendon Urie, the one who wore nail polish and clothes with unicorns on them just because he liked to. How when he was researching he stumbled upon links to reparative therapy because everyone just thought being gay was so wrong.

“I’m sorry I’m so mean to you,” Matt said suddenly, and Brendon hadn’t really realized that they understood and took it to heart. He didn’t spend much time thinking about it, had barely considered, but after they had stopped he wondered what it was really about. If maybe it all meant more than it did. Maybe it didn't.

“It’s okay, Matt.” He said, and it was. People made mistakes. Some, they shouldn’t be held accountable for. "I never thought you meant any of it in a bad way. I just thought that maybe there was something wrong with me if everybody was mean to me. Even my own family. But. It doesn't matter now."

"I never would have been if I knew it affected you," Matt said, apology clear in his voice, and Brendon looked over from where he was pouring his drink. "I thought we were just, like, playing around. I didn't want you to get hurt."

"I'm fine," Brendon promised, crossing his heart. "I know you guys aren't homophobic and I know you didn't have bad intentions. That's enough for me. Besides, you're my brother. You're supposed to be mean to me. It's like, a law." Matt smiled at him, still felt guilty though Brendon was okay at letting some things go. "I'm gonna go eat and go to bed. I'll talk to you later." He headed toward the door, bare feet padding quietly against the tile.

"Okay." Matt nodded minutely, and the silence hung heavy in the air between them.

“Hey, Matt?” Brendon asked suddenly, lingering in the doorway until his brother looked up. “Did you really think I was gonna be gay?”

Matt smiled, and Brendon couldn’t help but giggle. “Yeah, Bren, I did. Look at you!” He gestured to Brendon’s sweatshirt with cartoon dinosaurs on it and Brendon laughed, he had a point, and looked down at his body. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s good that you dress the way you want and don’t care what anyone thinks. It’s nice to have that mindset.”

“I guess it is,” Brendon agreed, and in the next few years he would learn that it wasn’t so easy, though he’d meet a few people that amazed him in the sense that they could ignore harsh words and focus on the ones from people who mattered. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

“Night, little brother,” Matt whispered, and they exchanged looks of solidarity before Brendon disappeared up the stairs, letting his mind wander. It was a good mindset to have, and he’d be told that for the rest of his life, from people who believed in him and thought the best of him and gave him space to be him. He never wanted to let the opinions of strangers break his heart.

Over the course of a few years, everything was different. Because Brendon had established a goal, and that was to find himself. He had established this goal one day at school in eighth grade, and since then he had been taking steps toward it. He kept up therapy despite how immensely he hated it, he practiced his anxiety exercises to calm himself down, he let himself feel unapologetically. He was getting over his fears, and he was letting himself breathe.

Which was why it was so ironic that one look at a boy he didn’t know completely knocked the wind out of him.

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him,” Brendon rambled one day in the safety of Tyler’s room while the boy put away the clothes he’d spent his whole allowance on at the mall that weekend. He twisted to half smile at Brendon, and he added, “I’m serious. He smiled at me in the hall today, and I had a total heart boner.”

“Not a real one.” Tyler teased, and Brendon had heard enough about that from his brothers. He whipped a pillow at his head, and Tyler put his hands up defensively. “Hey, hey. No shame, bro. It’s nature.”

“Shut up.” Brendon bit and went to grab his phone from across the mattress. “I mean, not to be cliché, Ty, but I really think he could, like, actually be my prince.”

“Oh,” Tyler groaned, and Brendon grimaced. “Brendon, why would you say that?!”

“It sounded so much more romantic in my head. I wish I could just, like, delete my own words. Ew.” Brendon covered his face with a laugh, and Tyler fell back on the bed, laughing along with him. “Fuck, ew. Okay. Nevermind. Ugh. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I am so into fairytale romance. I don’t care how stereotypically gay it makes me, and I don’t care what it makes me look like, but I want a fucking fairytale. I want a boy to sweep me off my feet. I want to fall so madly in love and ride off into the sunset and have a happily ever after. And imagine that all with him.”

“He would look good riding horseback,” Tyler mused.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Brendon agreed, laying back on the bed like suddenly it was all too much. And it was, and he was thinking again. He was no good at not thinking. Quietly, he asked a dejected but hopeful, “Tyler, do you think I’m naive?”

“Completely.” Tyler didn’t even bother sugarcoating it, never really did. Brendon glanced up at him, that wasn’t what he was hoping to be told, and Tyler sat up on the edge of his bed. “But I don’t think that’s bad." He added, though it wasn't that affirming. "I think you’re just... pure. That can be really good in a world like this. And if you wanna look for a fairytale romance then go for it. It’s good to dream, sometimes.”

Brendon picked at the skin around his nails and shrugged. Maybe it was good, having high hopes despite the world telling him no over and over. He didn’t know Dallon Weekes, he knew his name but not anything else. So maybe thinking that he could be everything Brendon had ever wanted was childish. Maybe it was stupid, and naive, and maybe he should grow up a little before he let himself fall so hard for someone he didn’t even know.

“I just feel like I’m so far behind, you know?” He said, and Tyler looked at him like it was a joke. “I’m serious. I hate this. And I feel like, I don't know, no one is ever gonna like me, Ty. Someone like Dallon would never like me. And it’s stupid, but I want something magic. So how the hell am I supposed to get that when I’m like this?”

“Brendon, it’s not that big of a deal. You’re fifteen. No one should be dating at fifteen. It’s sad and pathetic. And besides, there’s nothing wrong with you. You have a medical thing but it’s not like you’re never gonna hit puberty. It takes some time. But it’ll be worth it. You’ll see.”

“I’m almost sixteen, Tyler,” Brendon whined, covering his face with his hands. “This is pathetic. I’m pathetic. I may as well be ten years old. Put me back in preschool.” Tyler smacked him in the side, but Brendon was serious. He had the body of a child and he was halfway through his sophomore year of high school. It was embarrassing. “Seriously. I feel gross. I just wanna be who I’m supposed to be already. I’m sick of feeling out of place.”

Tyler frowned, but Brendon was a lost cause. “I think you’re looking too deep into this.”

“I think you don’t have a body of an eight-year-old so you can’t speak.” Brendon shot back, and Tyler rolled his eyes but smiled, patting his knee for compensation because it really was just a strange situation.

“You’ll get there, Urie. It’s only a matter of time.” He assured him, and Brendon wanted to believe that, but he was almost sixteen. At this rate, it felt like it would never happen.

Brendon dwelled on things that ended up not mattering in the long run. It was just that this wasn’t just some trivial game, this was his life. This was his body. He was scared that it just... wasn’t working. What if he wasn’t working?

Brendon jolted awake suddenly with sweat on his forehead, breathing heavy, and it took him a second to register where he was. His bedroom, pitch black, under his covers, wet, sticky, and... fuck, oh fuck. He pulled the covers back and whined, why did this have to happen now, of all days, of all nights, and climbed out of bed frantically. Why him? Why now?

He slid out of his disgusting clothes and changed fast, hands shaking in surprise, and peeled his sheets off his bed. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. He peeked into the hallway to make sure no one was there before he darted to the bathroom, his bare feet padding against the floor like a newly trained puppy as he went to stuff his clothes in the sink, stained and sticky.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Brendon cursed under his breath, frantically trying to wash the clothes under rushing water. Fuck, he was so fucked, it was almost eleven and people were probably still awake and he-

“Bren, what are you doing?” His mother’s voice asked suddenly from the doorway, and he glanced up, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. Stuffing the evidence in the already almost full hamper, face red and flushed and wearing different pajama pants than the ones he went to sleep in. Her eyes flickered from his to the bundle of sheets and soaking wet boxers and pajama pants in his arms to his, staring like she would just forget it all and walk away if he said nothing, but he was frozen and she asked, “Your sheets?” Warily, he nodded, and she sighed. “Okay, kid, take a seat. We gotta talk.”

He dropped the sheets and shook his head. “No, mama, really, it’s okay, we don’t have to-“

“C’mon, Bren.” She nodded her head so he sighed, fuck, he really needed to get a hamper in his room and learn how to do laundry, and took a seat on the edge of the tub. “So...”

“I get it, mama, don’t make this more embarrassing than it has to be. Please.” He covered his face with his hands, burning red. “I get it.”

“Brendon, it’s my job to be the one to talk to you about all this stuff.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it. I get it. I’m fifteen and I’m going through puberty and it’s humiliating and I don’t wanna talk about it ever.”

“Brendon, we should talk about it!” She insisted, closing the lid of the toilet seat and sitting down on top of it. Brendon swore if she said one more word... “You’re becoming an official young man.”

“Mama, please!” He begged, but she tsked at him, told him he knew it was coming. He honestly thought it never would, he was just destined for whatever the opposite of greatness was. He covered his ears, groaned, shook his head, tried to escape, but Grace Urie always made sure she had the last word.

Brendon was thinking about what his mother had said the next morning while he and Tyler walked to school together, tired from his almost sleepless night. He was an official young man, or whatever. He was finally... not a child anymore. This was a big deal, right? He felt right in his body for once. Foreign, maybe, but for different reasons today. Because he was different. He was more... complete.

“I had a wet dream about Dallon Weekes last night.” He confessed as he watched his black converse walk beside Tyler’s vans.

Tyler looked up at him and squinted in confusion. “You mean a sex dream.” He corrected.

“No, I mean a wet dream.” He looked up, prayed he knew what he meant, and Tyler’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak, and Brendon nodded, stopped him before he could say it. “Yeah. And it was embarrassing and horrible and my mom gave me the sex talk except she didn’t really know what to say because she knows nothing about gay sex. And I’m like, a million times more attracted to Dallon than I was before, and I just wanna, like, have his babies.”

Tyler laughed and looked back down at their feet, and Brendon felt new, somehow. “You’d make beautiful babies, little virgin Urie. His eyes and your jawline?”

“So cute.” Brendon rolled his eyes and smiled, stupidly excited over nothing. It was just that finally, finally he wasn’t the pathetic little boy he was always destined to be. It was stupid, but maybe he was on the right track. Maybe this was the perfect opportunity to take advantage of this new Brendon Urie. “I think I should, like, come out.” He said suddenly, out of nowhere, and Tyler looked surprised. “Hear me out! I’m so sick of being in the closet. I don’t wanna hide who I am. And I mean, me being out means that there’s potential to meet other people like me. It could be really good for me. Besides, maybe Dallon would hear and be like, I’m gay too, and then we can, y’know. Fraternize.”

“Brendon Urie, you are so scandalous.” He nudged him in the side and Brendon nudged him back. Was it so wrong to hope that maybe all of this was a step toward a fairytale? He'd always been a hopeless romantic. A dreamer. Now his dreams were just becoming more and more... vivid, to say the least. “I mean, if you wanna come out at school, then I’m down. I wouldn’t mind. And I don’t care what people think, either. We should just be who we are!”

“Exactly!” Brendon agreed, riding this high as far as it would take him. Tyler never cared what people thought. So why should Brendon? He could learn a thing or two from his best friend, and this whole experience, and all the stories he read online and the successful relationships. He could do this. He didn’t have to be so scared of everyone.

He could do it. He could stop caring what everybody thought. They linked their pinkies together, and Brendon beamed, because he was finally going to change his life.

* * *

In retrospect, maybe coming out was a stupid idea. Because Tyler was a lot stronger than he was and they both knew that, but it wasn’t like he thought that his school would suddenly be gassed with Brendon Urie repellent. People stared at him, whispered, made him feel like more of an outcast than he already was. It was ridiculous. He was just gay. He wasn’t a murderer. Though to them, it felt like the same thing.

A sweaty Brendon stepped into the locker room, still half out of breath from the laps he had to run as a cool down. Cool down his ass. A cool down would be sitting on the gym floor after having played some pathetic excuse for kickball because for some reason, sophomore gym was necessary to graduate. He thought he ditched physical activity and locker rooms in the eighth grade. The energy in the room caught Brendon’s attention immediately. He wasn’t one the think about auras, but... what kind of aura did you have when everybody in the room was looking at you like you had just been sprayed by a skunk?

“What?” Brendon asked through a confused laugh, pulling down the zipper of his hoodie aimlessly as the boys in his gym class bristled away from him. They all looked at each other like there was some big secret Brendon wasn’t in on, like they didn’t want to say it. But Brendon was watching them expectedly, and, well, someone had to.

“We heard you like guys.” One of the boys said finally, and oh, okay. So they had seen Brendon’s Instagram post. So what?

He let out another little laugh, pushing his sweat soaked hair out of his eyes and tugging his hoodie off to stuff it into his bag. “Yeah, so?” He countered, a little confused.

“Well, we’re not gonna, like, shower or change in front of you.” He said like it was obvious. Brendon stopped trying to force the hoodie into his bag and looked up suddenly as they all started toward the door.

“I’m sorry, wait.” Brendon put his hand up and they all paused to hear him out, a last resort. A hope that he was going to say surprise, early April fools, I really got you guys, huh. Because hey, maybe he was actually pretty cool and it was a shame to see that he wasn’t like the rest of them. But he never was, and he never claimed to be. “You’re not gonna change in front of me because I don’t like girls?”

“No. We’re not gonna change in front of you because you like boys.” He corrected, and that was stupid, that didn’t make any sense, they were kids. They were just sophomores. He had no cruel intentions.

Brendon didn’t understand. He stood there for a second, speechless, and he could hear quiet chatter between the boys fill his ears. They were talking about him when he was right there. “Are you kidding?”

He shook his head, visibly uncomfortable even having this conversation though Brendon could guarantee he was a lot more uncomfortable. “We don’t need some perv staring at us while we’re trying to get changed. It’s just creepy.” And Brendon shook his head too, appalled that anyone would even think that, that really wasn’t what this was about. He was fifteen, he didn’t want to have sex, he—

“I’m not— that’s not—“ He tried to defend himself, but they were all already getting up and grabbing their bags in disgust. This wasn’t how he wanted things to go, he thought this would open doors, not close them. He didn’t think... “I don’t—“

“Whatever, Urie.” He dismissed him like he was nothing, heading toward the door with a roll of his eyes.

He turned on his heels in disbelief. This wasn’t how he wanted to change his life. “Is it seriously that big of a deal?”

“We don’t want to be associated with some faggot, alright?” He snapped, and then he was gone.

“Later, princess.” Another sneered, and something plummeted in his body, his heart into his stomach, and he watched his peers trickle out of the room, away from the misfit. Away from the boy who was too scared to flirt, anyway, assuming he’d even want to. Away from someone who was just trying to be honest. With everyone and himself.

It was stuck in his head. Princess. Because once upon a time that had been an aspiration of some sorts, something he wanted for himself. To be a princess. Was that so wrong? Was it anything to berate and treat like nothing? Because he remembered his mother telling him when he was young that he could be anything he set his mind to. Now... well, now he was just another statistic. He was someone whose name didn’t matter, a faceless victim.

He was someone who sat in bed, staring at the anonymous words on a screen because he couldn’t focus on anything else aside from the page they’d made about him.

Urie’s a faggot!

Tears filled his eyes, his hands shook, and he dropped his phone on the covers in front of him. Wiped his cheeks and tried to think. He should never have come out. From the second he did, it had been nothing but hell. For weeks people avoided him, and that day he told himself he wouldn’t care what people think but it didn’t matter because it was all a stupid lie. Of course he cared what people thought. He always had.

He wished he could take it back. He wished he wasn’t even gay.

He wished he wasn’t him.

Brendon knocked quietly on the doorframe of his sisters' room, hands unsteady and body shivering. Kara glanced up from her desk, and he stepped into the room. “Kara.” He whimpered, handing her the phone. Her eyebrows furrowed as her eyes flickered over the screen, and Brendon was already in tears when she set it down and enveloped him in a hug.

“People are always gonna have something to say, Bren. It doesn’t mean you’re bad. It just means they don’t understand. It just means that you’re different, and they don’t know what to do with that. You’re not bad.” She whispered, smoothing his hair down with her fingers. “You’re just different.”

“Okay.” Brendon cried, burrowing further into her. He didn’t want to be different. He wanted to be normal. But normal didn’t fight the battles Brendon had fought. Normal didn’t wage his wars.

On second thought, he didn’t need to be normal. He needed to be the Brendon Urie he was so destined to find.

He tried to ignore everyone. He really did. Tyler did. People had even said something to Dallon once and he stuck up for himself. So why the hell couldn't Brendon? He was just as capable. Maybe he wasn’t as strong, or smart, but... he just didn’t know what to do anymore. He felt lost, hopeless.

It was like... everybody wanted him gone. And he found himself struggling over whether or not that was his fault or because he was gay. Maybe it was just him. Maybe he was a bad person, and maybe they all just hated everything about him. He had been caught up so many nights staring at himself in the mirror and wondering what he did wrong.

Brendon hated the school bathrooms. It was just a thing. It felt like every time he was in them something went wrong. Like people closing him into a stall and not moving from the door so he’d miss class or making snide remarks from a few sinks away. School bathrooms always found a way to get him. And it was predictable, because Brendon was always so anxious to go in there.

Because he went to wash his hands at the third sink and some boy at the first, someone he knew from class, snickered and said something about him cleaning up after providing some services, and haha, very funny. There was a rumor going around that Brendon was... well, that he was whoring himself out for money. He said nothing, because he didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t true, but no one would believe it after they had their heads wrapped around it.

As he went to grab a paper towel the boy bumped his shoulder and Brendon stumbled back, gasping in surprise, and his innate reaction was to push back. He looked shocked for a minute, like he wasn’t expecting Brendon to stick up for himself, and then he shoved him hard into the sink and Brendon fell, clutching his stomach and whimpering and nearly throwing up. But when it all came down to it, he never won. He was just left alone, as always.

“What the hell happened?” Brendon’s mother asked frantically when she finally picked him up, after some freshman found him on the bathroom floor, barely able to walk, and took him to the nurse.

“Um, some kid, like, shoved me. Into the sink. Right here.” He gestured to the side of his stomach and yelped when his mom went to touch it. She apologized, didn’t know it hurt that bad, but peeled up his shirt anyway. And at the sight of bruising, she took him to the hospital.

The doctors had the same reaction of horror as she did when he lifted his shirt for them.

He played with the IV until his mom came back with a snack and told him to quit it. But it wasn’t his fault, he was just so bored, and in pain, and tired, but not tired enough to sleep. “I hate the hospital.” He complained, and she brushed his hair back gently.

“I know. But they’re trying to hydrate you, Bren, the x-ray said you were bleeding internally and I don’t need my baby dying today, okay? You’re gonna be fine. I’ll be talking to your principal and sending the bill to the parents of the boy who thought it was just so damn funny to do this to you.”

“Mhm.” He let his head lull to the side, eyes falling shut. He really hated the hospital. He hated high school, too. And high school bathrooms. And everyone who thought they were better than him because they weren’t gay.

Brendon wanted to find himself. He wanted to be who he was and be loved for it but he forgot that only lovable people were loved. He was the kind of boy that people shoved into sinks and put in the hospital because he didn’t deserve to be happy or have friends or be loved. Of course not. Who wanted to love a faggot?

He was never meant to be somebody that anybody cared about. He guessed he just had to come to terms with that.

* * *

“What’s up, Princess?”

It was like it had become a label. Brendon was somebody who liked labels, needed them, assigned them to just about everything, but this was one that somehow managed to make his chest ache, anyway. He didn’t answer, knew no one really cared, just shrugged and went to change in a stall because he didn’t want to change in front of anybody. They’d give him weird looks, judge him, make him feel bad about himself.

He tugged on the hem of his pink long sleeve and went to grab his things from his assigned locker. A few boys in his class were standing a few feet away, shirtless like it didn’t matter, more developed than a scrawny Brendon and much more attractive. They were flexing their muscles and showing off, locker room boys as they were, and Brendon didn’t catch himself staring until one of them turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised maliciously.

“What are you looking at?” He asked, walking closer with a lazy pride in his step.

Brendon averted his gaze, shaking his head and twisting his locker open. “No, nothing.”

“No? You weren’t checking me out?” He asked, leaning against the locker wall uncomfortably close to a nervous Brendon. “You weren’t trying to get my attention?”

Brendon shook his head again, blushing and flustered. He hadn’t meant to look. He was just curious; he had no agenda. “No, I-“

Without warning he reached out and grabbed Brendon’s hand, placing it directly over his crotch. He gasped for show as Brendon pulled his hand away, eyes wide, and everyone turned toward them. “He just groped me!” He accused. Brendon shook his head, he didn’t even want to, it wasn’t his fault, and people gave him looks of disgust but tears filled his eyes.

“I didn’t.” He swore; the boy stepped away, disbelief on his face, but Brendon saw the smirk in his eyes as he backed up toward his friends.

“Did you see that? Little fairy Urie just felt me up. I could file a sexual harassment suit. I can’t believe they let them in the locker room. That should be a crime.” He pulled on a shirt quickly, and tears slid down Brendon’s cheeks. “You guys might wanna get dressed. You can’t trust fags. He might try to rape you.” He tilted his head at Brendon, and the words stung, made more tears spill as his classmates got dressed and glared at him as they walked out. He could only turn to watch, crying like a child, as people he could have considered friends left him there, alone. In the next few months, he would learn easily what it was like to be alone.

Brendon Urie had always been different. That wasn’t any secret to anybody who had ever met him. Because when he was young, he didn’t care about liking what the other boys liked. He cared about his bedtime stories. He cared about crawling into bed with his mom and hearing all about the princesses. He cared about watching the movies with his sisters on the weekend, playing dress up in his mother’s heels, smearing red lipstick all over his lips and grinning bright when he was caught.

And for months, he taught himself not to care what other boys liked all over again.

He sat where he always sat, Tyler across from him and a tray in front of him. He leaned against the table on his elbow, just within perfect view of a smiling boy across the cafeteria. Brendon was smirking to himself, because this year would be different. Junior year would be different. Two years ago the word had been spit at him and he had found venom in it, but not anymore. Now he wore it like a badge of honor.

He always wanted a fairytale. He was just now coming to terms with the fact that he was simply meant to be the princess.


	37. Chapter 36: Bruises

Brendon stared at the screen in front of him and couldn’t find it in him to cry, or respond, or to block the account because that wasn’t going to do anything. He’d already seen what people were saying about him. It was out there in the world for everybody to see. For his family and friends and teachers and future employers and coworkers and landlords and random people out there on the internet to see. Brendon Urie, whoring himself out in the school bathroom. Coming onto straight boys and trying to coerce them. He was the one who was assaulted and they were turning it around to accuse him instead.

He was trying not to think about it. That was just hard when he kept getting the notifications and people were sending him threatening messages.

He knew people would talk. Word traveled seemingly so fast these days. A year ago his anxieties had been centered around his family visiting for Thanksgiving, hiding who he was. But a lot had changed in a year, and Brendon went from completely in the closet to... well, the opposite. His entire life was being broadcasted now.

He knew the way his aunt would look at him, and how his cousins would follow him around and tell him that their mother had a few choice things to say about him on the long drive over. You’re not like us, you’re diseased, you’re impure. Well, Brendon knew he was impure already. He didn’t need a bunch of kids to tell him that.

But that was hardly on his mind this year. What was on his mind, actually, was how to convince himself that everyone would suddenly forget the past month, forget Brendon Urie and his passing out on a stranger’s floor and the police and... well. He didn’t need to relive it. He just needed to be away from it. The few days away would be nice. He would feel much better afterward. He just had to keep telling himself that and maybe it would come true.

He stared at the little white pill in the palm of his hand, waiting. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was waiting for, for it to up and walk away or to tell him that it would be smart to take it for his fucked-up brain, for it to magically disappear, never to be seen again. The idea of antidepressants distorted Brendon’s anxiety even further, as they tried to alchemize him into something chemical and falsified. It all seemed... nominal. Dangerous, even.

A short description on Google told him that it would up the supply of some endorphins or something, that selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors would increase the amount of serotonin in his brain. He didn’t really know what the hell any of that meant, it was pretty much just a jumbled mess like the rest of the information he’d been given lately, but it was prescribed to him. Antidepressants were trial and error, anyway. He had to see what fit before he committed to one and relied on it for help. He couldn’t do that if he wasn’t taking them.

“Brendon, people are here!” His mother’s voice came to him as if he were in a dream, too far away from reality, amongst the blurred-out edges of a dizzy, hazy world he'd become too familiar with lately. Without a second thought, Brendon took the little pill and reached out to grab the water bottle he'd left on the sink so he could take a sip and wash it down.

“Coming!” He called, pushing the little orange plastic bottle back into the medicine cabinet. He was making progress. Now if only he could keep it up.

* * *

Brendon just... he just really fucking hated his relatives. He greeted them with fake smiles, didn’t even bother giving hugs this year because they didn’t want him to touch him, anyway. His uncle was indifferent and went off to spend time with Brendon’s mother, siblings that had never gotten along as children now succumbing to awkward small talk on one measly holiday because one day a year was good enough for them.

Brendon’s grandparents were kinder and he hung out in the living room with them mostly, sitting with Kyla and avoiding his cousins like the plague. Fuck this stupid holiday and the people that came with it, he just wanted it to be over so he could hide in his room again. Sitting all together while his parents cooked in the kitchen wasn’t worth it, painful small talk and blinking back tears because he wished he could just be left alone. They weren’t very good at that, though. Leaving things alone.

Brendon knew what they were all thinking. He was the black sheep of the family already, and this was just adding insult to injury. Setting him apart from the rest of the family. The world. Breaking him down because there had to be something so damn wrong with someone who was drugged and assaulted and just kept getting hurt. Because he was a faggot and they were asking for it. Just like Shane had said.

When Brendon stepped into the kitchen to gather more crackers and cheese to feed on while he was hiding from his younger cousins, his ran into his aunt. They’d all been talking about their year when Brendon bothered to listen. His parents had mentioned that the boy had had a rough couple of months, no specifics though they already knew, anyway, and they certainly didn’t miss the part about his loving boyfriend being there for him. Brendon caught the disgusted looks he’d gotten in return. Not everyone understood, and he got that, but they were guests in his home. The least they could do was be civil.

He greeted her with a fake half smile while he set his glass of apple cider down to grab a cracker and make a little sandwich out of it. She watched him make it, probably judging the way he was playing with his food, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of being embarrassed.

They hadn’t said a word to each other, and Brendon didn’t bother. He just looked at her indifferently, everything he did was indifferent these days, and her eyes oscillated between her nephew’s face and hands. Nails painted black because he couldn’t care less anymore and knuckles bruised because he spent the night hitting his wall and letting himself cry, he really just had to get it out of his system, but he was covered in bruises, anyway. And if it were any other day he’d kill her with kindness, but, well. Today he just kind of wanted to kill her.

She was the one to initiate conversation. “So, Brendon. You’re dating... a boy?”

That tone. The pompous, prestigious, religious soccer mom tone. She thought she was better than him, she thought her children were above him. And maybe they were, the little bratty award-winning soccer playing blonde beautiful shits, but Brendon didn’t care anymore. He never liked this side of the family anyway and he wasn’t going to go back into the closet. Not for them, not for anybody. He was unapologetic. Just like Dallon told him to be.

“Yep! His name’s Dallon.” He raised his glass of cider up to her, making the ice clink together inside of it, but she gave a disapproving look. That was all the more incentive to be as conniving and crude as he possibly could be.

“That’s... nice.” She looked as if she didn’t even want to touch what he touched, because as she reached over the table to grab a piece of cheese and a cracker, there was a wretched frown on burgundy painted lips.

“Uh-huh. He’s great. The sex is great, too! I mean, God, I never thought I would enjoy taking it up the ass, but he’s got a way of surprising me, you know?”

Her eyes widened at the boy’s effrontery. “Oh, Lord.”

“That’s exactly what I say when he fucks me!” He laughed buoyantly, putting a hand to his chest. “It really is a religious experience. Sometimes I swear, when he’s just drilling me, so damn hard, I see God.” He rolled his eyes back in mock euphoria as his mother rushed into the room, catching his impertinence, and reached out to grab his arm.

“Brendon, stop it right now.”

He yanked his arm away. “Why? She’s so interested in my love life. Everyone is, right? Everybody wants to play shoot the fag because it’s not a family get together until everyone judges me for who I fucking am.” He accused, getting a horrified look from his aunt across the room.

“Brendon, you need to calm down. Nobody was judging you.” His mother tried.

“Says who?” He glared at his aunt once more, but his mother tried to pull him toward the exit of the kitchen without bothering to let him finish. He wouldn’t budge, though, and he stood his ground.

His mother stopped for a moment and stared him down, eyes insistent and stone cold, but Brendon had been through too much to let this scare him. “Brendon Boyd Urie, it is Thanksgiving and you are spending it with family. Be kind or go to your room.”

He smacked whatever paper plates were on the table, making them all hit the ground in one fell swoop. “Fuck this, I’m not hungry anyway.”

His mother grabbed his forearm and forced him away from the table with a furious huff. “Come with me.” She growled.

“Close minded bitch.” He snapped at his aunt while his mother pulled him out of the room. She smacked his arm hard enough to get him to shut his mouth, but he wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t, just folded his arms over his chest and pouted because nobody had the right to tell him to put out his fire.

“What the hell are you doing?” She berated. Brendon dropped his hands to his sides, letting his fiery brown eyes meet hers in a fit of rage. Maybe he wasn’t apathetic after all. Maybe he wasn’t just sick or tired or depleted, maybe his depression was manifesting itself in the form of anger. He was angry.

With a penchant for temerity, Brendon spat back, “Reacting.”

* * *

He sat on the edge of his bed, pulling at his hair. He swore he would have said way worse if he could. He would have told her that he worshipped Satan and that he and his boyfriend prayed to the devil before they fucked. He would have told her that he would say a prayer for her, make her grimace in horror, he would have told her that he was going to turn her children gay before Jesus could save their souls. Next Thanksgiving, he’d have a script ready.

His door opened without so much of a knock and his parents stepped into the room, furious enough for him to feel the fire coming out of his mother’s eyes. “What the hell was that, Brendon? You’re acting like a child.” She asked, closing the door behind herself.

He shook his head, avoiding his parents’ disappointed glares. He knew he fucked up but he didn’t regret it. She’d been indignant for years and Brendon was so fucking sick of feeling like he wasn’t welcome in his own home. “I didn’t want them to know I was gay.”

“You should have told us that.” His father insisted.

“You don’t out people.” He snapped, looking up suddenly to catch their eyes and shaking his head because this wasn’t all on him. “You don’t out people. No matter how long they’ve been out to anyone else. Because there are some cases where it’s dangerous to be out. And having very obviously homophobic people know that you’re gay is one of those situations.” He looked away, back down at his lap. “I don’t feel comfortable or safe when they’re here.”

“They’re staying in a hotel, Brendon.” His mother intervened, still very clearly angry though she didn’t have the right to be. Brendon would have done it regardless. “And you’re staying home for the weekend so you won’t have to come to brunch tomorrow.”

Brendon put a hand to his chest dramatically. “Oh no, I can’t go to that stupid restaurant that makes smiley faces out of bacon? Forgive me father, for I have sinned.”

His mom smacked him upside the head, and he inched away to glare at her. “We’re doing you a favor, Brendon.”

“No one has to do me any favors!” He argued. “That’s what I’ve been avoiding for the past four years! Being treated like some special snowflake! It’s not who I am! I don’t want you to feel bad for me, I didn’t want it back then and I sure as hell don’t want it now. You knew for years that I’m uncomfortable around them. That I hate them. If you wanted to do me any favors then you would never have invited them in the first place.”

“Brendon.” His mother sighed, putting her head in her hands. “Bren, please. They’re family. It’s once a year. From now on we won’t invite them but we can’t read your mind! You have to tell us what you feel. Tell us what you want.”

That was the thing. Brendon couldn’t convey how he felt. He didn’t know what he wanted. He just wanted to feel safe and he was trying to find that in every place he could. It was hard, almost not even worth it, but with so many people coming and going and coming just to hurt him, he didn’t know how to find safety in anything anymore.

“I just hate being treated like I’m different by people who are supposed to care about me. I already feel different enough.” He picked at the skin around his nails anxiously. “I just wanna feel safe again. It’s not safe when people who hate me are in my home, too. It’s everywhere, online and at school and even at work, and I’m scared and frustrated and this is my only safe space anymore. Or, I mean, I guess not.”

“Brendon, you should have told us.”

“I figured you would have known that homophobic people freak me out. That’s kind of not my fault.” He shrugged and his parents exchanged glances, realizing that maybe it was on them too. “Can I just be alone?”

“Sure.” His dad said, patting his shoulder in understanding.

“Fine. But listen, Brendon, you can’t throw a tantrum every time someone makes you angry. You’re not twelve anymore. You’re not leaving the house for the rest of your break; you need to calm down. And unless you clean up your act and behave yourself, don’t come down for dinner.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” He rolled his eyes, swinging his legs up onto the mattress and turning on his side, his back facing his parents. His dad left the room silently and his mother stared at his back before she followed, shaking her head.

The only good thing that came out of it was that his parents were too afraid to ground him, aside from keeping him inside, as if he were even planning on going out, and maybe not giving him dinner though he didn't care much. He didn’t want to eat anything, anyway. He just curled up in bed and wouldn’t let himself cry.

His phone rang a few times before he bothered to turn over and look at it, just about an hour after his family had finished eating downstairs. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of going downstairs to ask for something to eat, either. He had enough cheap candy he’d bought after Halloween stashed in his drawer, anyway. Dallon’s name made him smile as he traced his thumb over the edge of his phone, wondering how he knew how to call when Brendon needed it.

He answered the call, and didn't get a hello in before Dallon started speaking. “So I was thinking today, when my uncle was leading that circle where we all said what we were thankful for, I was thinking about it. And I decided to share with you what I’m thankful for.” Brendon half smiled at the greeting, picking at the threads on his blanket when he hummed in acknowledgment. “You.”

“You are so cliché, wow.” Brendon laughed, but his heart was in the right place. Dallon had a really good heart. He pulled his knees to his chest as he listened to the buoyant laugh on the other line. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” Dallon laughed too.

“Hey, I’m thankful for you too.” He added, running his hands over his thighs. “You’ve made the past month bearable. The past year, actually. I needed you so badly. I need you.”

“Hey, I need you too, Urie. Whether or not you know it.” Dallon assured him with a quiet smile, and Brendon smiled down at his comforter. September sucked. October sucked, and November was looking down too. The autumn months were always Brendon’s favorites but this year, everything was flipped upside down. It felt like he was just consistently waiting for things to one-eighty, but he always just ended up disappointed. He was so sick of being disappointed. All he had was the cracked idea that maybe if he tried hard enough, he would be okay. Maybe he was right, and he was just lying. But lying was so easy when the truth was hard to swallow. “How was your Thanksgiving?”

“Um,” Brendon let out a pitiful laugh and looked down at his sweatpants clad legs, “it was... eventful.”

“Good eventful or bad eventful?”

“Um.” He ran a hand up his leg and wrapped a hand around his knee. What was he thinking? “What do you qualify as yelling a few choice things about our sex life to my homophobic aunt?”

“Oh, wow. That’s certainly eventful.” Dallon let out a mixture of a laugh and a noise of amusement. “What did you say to her, Brendon?”

“Um, something about me liking to take it up the ass and you fucking me good and that she’s a bitch. Cause she is. So. You know. I think I’m justified.” He scratched the back of his head and it sounded so silly now, causing a scene. Being dramatic because that was what they all expected anyway, right? “My parents are pissed but, y’know, I don’t really care. I’m sick of people treating me like a welcome mat. Or like, less than that. I’m a fucking bathroom mat. Everyone walks all over me and I’m sick of it. I’m so sick of everyone thinking I have to be this quiet little baby who doesn’t say anything because he’s scared to.”

“I agree. People walk all over you and that’s not okay. I’m glad you know your worth and that you want more respect and everything, but, like... this isn’t like you.” Dallon’s voice softened, and Brendon looked down, knew he was right but hated it when he was. “What’s going on, babe?”

Brendon sighed, and of course it wasn’t like him. He hadn't been himself in weeks. “I’ve just been weird and out of it and I don't know, ever since I started taking the meds I haven’t felt like myself. I know that’s supposed to happen and it’ll take me a while to get used to, but I just don’t like it. I don’t like the way my body is reacting to all of this. I’m angry and sad and tired all the time and... sometimes I feel like I’m okay. Like I have a fleeting moment of feeling okay. And then I’m reminded, and it all comes back to me.”

“That’s okay. It’s gonna take a little while to get used to this. I don't know how much it has to do with your meds, maybe just your circumstance, but I know that's a major change too. As for right now, keep taking them and hopefully they’ll balance out. Keep being good.” His voice was quiet, and Brendon found himself feeling at peace again. Sometimes it felt like Dallon was the remedy to a broken soul. Sometimes it felt like maybe everybody else’s judgment didn’t matter because nothing so good for him could be sinful. His happiness shouldn’t be sinful.

“The problem is that I don’t know how. I don’t know how to handle this. I know the depression makes me angry but I never used to be this bad. At least not before I was drugged. Like, sad and anxious, sure, but I was never this mad. I don’t this I was ever this crazy, either. I mean, I’m completely sabotaging myself, Dallon. I’m driving myself up the fucking walls. I literally spent the entire night last night stalking his Instagram.”

Brendon could feel the disappointment in Dallon’s sigh, but it wasn’t disappointment in him. Just in the fact that Brendon didn’t know what else to do. Because he had never been good at being out of control, and some situations were just harder to handle. Dallon would help if he knew how. Anybody would help if they knew how. “And?”

“He has a really stupid haircut.” Brendon came to the conclusion about six pictures in, one of him and a few of his buddies at a party, probably thrown for the football players and cheerleaders and all the machines that had been injected with too much school spirit. He liked his life far, far away from the sidelines. Dallon let out a laugh, and Brendon insisted, “He does! Seriously, it’s so bad, Dallon. God. I’m out of his league.”

He laughed too, and maybe joking about it was a new coping mechanism. He was trying a few out, but nothing seemed to work all that well. He still felt empty, and he still wished he could go back in time and remind himself what he wished he knew then. High school parties were stupid, drinking was dangerous. Leaving your drink out was idiotic and school bathrooms were disgusting, just wait until you get home. He should have just gone home.

“Yeah, you really are.” Dallon sighed like sometimes he realized things Brendon couldn’t even fathom. “You know whose league you are in?”

“Um, the trash dude from Sesame Street.”

“Oscar? What? No. Mine, idiot. I love you.”

Brendon laughed, picking at the thread on his sock aimlessly and wondering where he found him. “I love you too.”

Dallon laughed too, soft like music. A year ago they talked so quietly about a world that didn’t welcome them. Now they relived it but in a different way, because even though a lot had changed they still circled back to a world where acceptance was hard to find. “Listen, Bren, I know we’re different in a lot of ways but I get this.” He assured him suddenly, and Brendon quieted down. “Sabotaging yourself. I did it too. And I understand not knowing where it comes from. Sometimes it’s easy to hurt yourself.”

He folded his arms, suddenly cold, like he didn’t want to think about it. Dallon hurting himself. But he was hurting himself too, blaming himself, ruminating, and maybe it wasn’t a cigarette burn but he still ended up hurt at the end of the day. “I know. I just... don’t wanna be this way. I wanna be better.”

“It takes time,” Dallon added quietly, and everything did, he supposed. “I’m still trying to figure it out.”

Brendon shifted in bed, laying down to watch the dinosaur holding a cake. He’d prefer that over Thanksgiving dinner any day. “Speaking of, how are you doing, sunshine?”

“Um...” Dallon paused, shrugging to himself though Brendon couldn’t see. “I’m okay. I think it’s always worse in the warmer months, that’s what I’ve observed, anyway, so I’m okay. I haven’t lashed out or anything, I’ve been taking my meds, I’m alright. I’m trying.”

Brendon smiled, missed him suddenly, wished he was there with him. He hated Thanksgiving. Sometimes he needed something to make it feel better. “Good. I’m proud of you. And me.”

“What a power couple.”

“Right?” Brendon laughed, arching his back in a stretch and smiling at the sound of Dallon’s voice. He’d been trying to keep up since October, trying to check in, remember that he wasn’t the only one in this relationship. Dallon existed too, and within him existed different things Brendon wanted to remember. Things he wanted to try and help.

“Hey, can I tell you something stupid?” Dallon asked. Brendon ran a hand through his hair, made a noise of affirmation. “Last Thanksgiving, you painted my nails before I went to Salt Lake. And I was having dinner with my family and they asked who painted my nails, and I slipped up and said my boyfriend did it.” He laughed quietly to himself, embarrassed, and Brendon smiled softly up at the ceiling. “I was too embarrassed to tell them that you weren’t actually my boyfriend so for days I pretended that you were. They made me show them your picture and everything.”

“Dallon.” Brendon laughed, curling up on his side, and it was funny how things turned out. How for months, everything was hidden behind allegories and neglecting truth, though sometimes the truth was a labyrinth in itself. “Oh my god, you’re such a dork.”

“I was just crazy about you,” Dallon admitted, embarrassed about it though he had no reason to be. Brendon had said a few silly things about him too. Brendon looked down at his sheets as he ran his fingers over them, his bed was small but he hated when Dallon wasn’t in it. He was crazy about him too, even after everything, even when they hurt each other enough to believe the worst. Brendon sighed, and Dallon added, “I miss you, Bren.”

“I miss you too. And I’m sorry you had to leave on such a disappointing note.”

Dallon tsked. “No, I’m not disappointed. Or mad, or anything. I’m here to support you, Urie. I always am.”

Brendon hadn’t realized there were tears in his eyes until he sniffled involuntarily and his heart caught up to him. “God, I love you.” He sighed, resting a hand on his chest in disbelief. “I swear next time I see you I won’t throw up or have an existential crisis. Like, no complete promises, but I’m gonna try.”

He laughed, and Brendon smiled in spite of himself. “I believe in you.”

“I know you do,” Brendon whispered, and he meant more than he said. “I’m gonna go, babe, but I wanna talk later.”

“Okay. That’s fine. Talk later.” Dallon made a kissing noise through the phone and they exchanged goodbyes, promising to video chat at some point soon and leaving Brendon in silence. He dropped his phone on the mattress beside him, flopping down on his back and staring at the ceiling. He really, really hated Thanksgiving.

* * *

Brendon wandered around the kitchen for a minute in the dim light from the overheads as wind whistled outside and everyone left the horrible day behind them. At least there were no children around to nip at his ankles like a puppy and repeat everything their mother said to him like a parrot. He was getting a lock on his door next year, granted his parents even let them back in their house.

Sudden footsteps on the creaky floor made Brendon glance up from where he was bent over, peeking into the fridge. “Hey. What are you doing up?” Kara asked quietly, eyes dark in the flickering light. Brendon shrugged and let the fridge fall shut, he wanted nothing to do with this stupid fucking holiday anyway, and leaned against the counter. His bones were suddenly so exhausted, and he could barely hold himself up.

“Looking for something to eat. I didn’t have dinner and now I’m hungry and I want something but— I don’t know, Thanksgiving dinner just sounds so bad to me right now.”

She smiled to herself, pulling her hoodie tighter around her body and folding her arms over her chest. “Pretend it’s Christmas and dig in.”

He smiled, tried to laugh, but it came out weak and quiet. “I just want something bad for me and greasy and gross. I don’t want a real home cooked meal that reminds me of family and love and whatever. All that shit disgusts me right now.”

She looked at him softly, solitary and quiet and warm. Looked between the fridge and Brendon, and then nodded her head and urged, “Come on.”

Downstairs at the locked-up diner, Kara was turning on the fryer and the streetlights outside illuminated the tiled floors and vinyl seats. Brendon had been in the diner at night before but everything just seemed... estranged. Unreal. He wandered around, first on the opposite side and then on his, where he served every day and hid behind the counter, working as a shield against unwanted guests. And wanted but wary ones, back when Dallon was showing up every day to catch his attention after a snap decision had become the most beautiful thing in his life.

“A year ago.” Brendon thought out loud, running a hand over the edge of the corner booth. Kara looked up from the kitchen. “A year ago I sat here and talked to Dallon on the phone. And I cried because I hate being judged for who I am and he listened. And he was up in Salt Lake City, laying outside and watching the moon, but he told me he wished he was home. He wanted to be with me. That was before I’d seen Utah stars and he taught me love.”

She stood back and smiled at him, but it was sad. Sympathetic. He looked away, down at the slipper boots he borrowed from Kyla and the sweatpants that were a few inches too long, stolen out of a drawer across town when school had started and the temperatures had dropped.

“He told me he was thankful we were friends.” With a grunt, he hoisted himself up on the table and ran his hands gently over his thighs. Had it only been a little over a year that they started talking? Time felt so stretched out. “I don’t have a lot of things to be thankful for, but I think that boy is always going to be one of them.”

A smile met Kara’s lips and she looked away to organize two grilled cheese sandwiches on the stove. “Did you talk to him today?”

“Yeah, we talked on the phone.” He looked down, eyes vacant and staring unseeingly at his thighs. “Do you think it’s crazy of me to feel guilty for maybe having cheated on him?” Kara shrugged a shoulder noncommittally and Brendon sighed because he knew what that meant. Everybody telling him not to feel bad, promising him it wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t making him feel better. He was either a cheater or his feelings were wrong. There was no way to win. “Kara.”

“Yes, okay.” She sighed, leaned against the counter, and Brendon looked away. “Look, Bren. You’re justified in feeling guilty for what happened and I know it’s not simple enough to just say that you shouldn’t. But you’re just... victim blaming.”

“But I’m not trying to. I’m just trying to make sense of it. And I can’t help it but I’m so guilty, Kara. I feel like I should have tried harder. What if I tried harder?”

“People like him have an intention and they stick to it, Bren.” She told him, and the words struck him like lightning. Did he really want to hurt Brendon that bad? “Nothing would have changed.”

“I guess.” He looked down as she pressed the sandwiches down on the stove, making them sizzle. “I just wish I knew how to cope better, you know?”

“I think you’ll learn, Brendon.” She assured him, and it sounded hopeful despite both of their doubt. He turned to look out the window, searching for something though he wasn’t sure what it was. In the dark all the mountains disappeared, he couldn’t see many from home anyway, and the moon was hiding behind the clouds. Just a year ago things were different, good different, though there was always a silver lining and at least that made Dallon his. “What are you looking at, little one?”

He shrugged, he didn’t know, anyway, and turned to look at her as she made up two plates. “Nothing. No stars tonight.” He rested his chin in his hand and added, “I hate feeling so lonely all the damn time.”

“Come on.” She brought him a plate and nudged him off the table. “You’ve got plenty of people here for you. You’re not alone.”

Brendon shrugged, but deep down he knew. There was a difference between lonely and alone. Brendon was surrounded by people every day. School and work and his friends and family, sure, he wasn’t alone. He turned back to the window, wondering where all the stars had gone. He wasn’t alone, but he sure as hell was lonely.

* * *

Brendon had a lot of time to think over the long weekend. With Dallon away in Salt Lake City to see family until Sunday and Tyler so busy hosting people at his house, he barely had anybody to talk to. He texted and video chatted them of course, but after Thanksgiving his house was back to the normal seven people and it felt quieter, somehow. Dallon’s wifi was spotty and Tyler had a bunch of younger cousins to put up with, and, well. He had nothing to do. So Brendon resorted to laying in bed and thinking.

He started to let himself dwell on sex again, though not in the way a prurient summer Brendon had done. Shutting out the female body, of course— the impromptu sex ed class was hardly appreciated— he was thinking about the opposite. The male body. And, more specifically, how it would interact with another male body.

Brendon wasn’t stupid. He knew the premise of sex, but that wasn’t all there was. There was all the stuff that was unheard of in the media, because TV would never show gay sex scenes on daytime television. Because people didn’t want to normalize things they weren’t comfortable with. Because back in the day men had to hide in speakeasies and learn from other queers what to do with their hands and mouths and bodies. Because being gay wasn’t the norm. Well, it was Brendon’s norm. That counted for something.

His knowledge was limited. Was that his fault? He knew next to nothing except what he'd done. Even then he was still sort of lost. But he didn’t know what else. He didn’t know how to take care of his body safely or how to control himself, his hormones, his stupid reactions. He didn’t even know how exactly he was supposed to... do it.

The way gay people had sex was different. That was common sense. But Brendon was a little lost on the details. Everything he’d picked up on was either learned through conversation with his best friend or what Dallon had actually done to him during what little intimacy they had. It was romantic, sweet, but that couldn’t be all there was. There had to be some whole other world of things he didn’t know about. There had to, because all he knew was that he knew nothing.

And sure, romantic was wonderful. Sweet was great. But that didn’t take away from the fact that Brendon was clueless and had no idea how he was supposed to do it. It wasn’t like high school health classes did their job, because all they ever talked about was heterosexual intercourse, and they only ever mentioned one way to do it. There were so many ways to do it. So many ways that were just for boys who liked boys.

Brendon knew the stereotypes. He knew the stigma, too. That gay people were made out to all be sexual fiends. He knew the stereotypes but that didn't make them true. Brendon barely knew what he was doing because he was never told what to do. School told him to use protection and his parents told him to be careful with his heart, but nobody ever told him flat out what to do. How to do it. Brendon wasn’t even sure how Dallon knew what to do in the first place.

Brendon just wanted to know what was going on with his body. Why it reacted positively to the touch of somebody he didn’t want. Why it reacted differently than his brain. More importantly, how he was supposed to have real, loving, consensual sex with his boyfriend, whenever he was ready to do that again.

Brendon’s curiosity and anger got the best of him and he found himself pacing in thought until he ended up in his parent's room one night, interrupting his mother's laundry folding as he sat on the edge of the bed. She continued to fold, barely paying any mind to his presence, but greeted nonetheless, “Hi, buddy.”

“Hi. Um, I have a question.” She nodded to tell him to ask away, and Brendon stuck his hands in between his thighs awkwardly. “Why don’t they have gay sex ed?” She glanced at him with a quirked eyebrow, and he added, “I mean, they have sex education for straight people, but straight sex is common sense. It’s stupidly simple. But gay sex is hard to figure out and, like, to actually do. I mean, I didn’t know what I was supposed to do my first time. I had a general idea, but, like. It’s different. And I was wondering why they don’t tell us at school how gay sex works.”

“Well, I don’t know, Bren.” She carried some clothes to the closet, seemingly not very phased by the awkward question. Maybe she’d wondered the same thing, right around when Brendon came out and started to go through puberty. “What’s making you think of this now?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. Dallon said to me recently that he thinks we don’t have resources. And I was thinking about how when we did it, I had no idea what I was doing. I don’t think it’s fair that when you’re straight, you’re given like, an endless supply of information, but everyone tries to hide anything that has to do with gay sex. It’s taboo. I just wanna know how to have consensual, fun, good sex with my serious boyfriend.”

“I mean, I agree, I think sex ed is aimed toward a specific group of people. A group of people you’re not in. And they’re not tailored to your needs as well.”

“Exactly! I mean, like, no offense, but how hard is it to figure out straight sex? Get over it. It’s gross. Maybe it was all the female anatomy that made me puke.”

She laughed and turned to look at him as he plopped back down on her bed, swinging his legs back and forth and kicking the bed frame. “Where’s this all coming from, Brendon? For real?”

Brendon shrugged again, he figured he’d have to tell her. This was just one of those instances where he let something get to him, under his skin, into his bones. How could strangers keep stripping and robbing him of his pride? “Um, when... it happened, he said that I made it obvious. That I must want people to look at me because I flaunt it, or something. And then some kid called me a faggot in the hallway the other day at school. And he said that I shouldn’t be parading my sexuality like it’s something to be proud of, and that we’re all the same. And it made me think about how unfair it is that everybody assumes I’m some sex obsessed freak when I’m not. Especially now that I’m getting attacked for it. Just because I’m gay doesn’t make me a deviant. Just because I was assaulted didn't mean I asked for it.”

“No, it doesn’t.” She took a seat beside him on the bed and wrapped an arm around him with a sigh, like she was imagining a world where people bullied her youngest. Like it wasn’t possible that somebody could hate her Brendon.

He tried to keep that all away from her, especially as of late. But back before he had Dallon to cry to, he’d crawl into bed with his mother every time he came across some comment from an indignant user on social media about him being a faggot or a pansy or something in that vein, he’d long since blurred out those memories. And since those days he would like to think he’d grown up, but really, it was getting harder and harder to believe that.

“I think society tries to block out things that are unfamiliar to them. Talking about same sex relations tends to be taboo so it’s something they pretend doesn’t happen. But I think you’re right, you deserve the same opportunities as them.”

Brendon nodded and, with a sigh, let himself fall back on the bed. He wished he could just crawl in for hours and never ever leave. “Everything annoys me lately.”

She pat his knee for collateral. “Short temper.”

“I’m too small to fit anything bigger.” He glanced up at her and she smiled, but it was forced. Everyone was always forcing smiles at him. “I hate being angry all the time.”

She sighed, but didn’t know what to say. Nobody ever did. “That’s part of it all, Brendon.” She sympathized, setting a hand on the top of his head.

“I know. I just wish it was anything else. I wish I wasn’t so hormonal.” He rested his elbows on his knees and sighed, holding up his chin. “I hate being a teenager. And depressed. And angry, while I’m at it.”

She ruffled his hair and wrapped him in a hug when he groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I know, baby, but your meds will balance out and you’ll feel better. Don’t worry about it. Let nature take its course. Let modern medicine take its course, too.”

“Hm.” Brendon leaned his head on her shoulder, glaring at the wall because it wasn’t fair. They couldn't attribute everything to the meds. It was just his fucked-up genes. It was just the world getting revenge on him for God knows what. But things took time, and he was just adapting now. It was just that he couldn’t figure out how, exactly.

* * *

He was back in Dallon’s passenger seat on Monday, thinking about how he snapped on Thanksgiving and how he spent half his vacation worrying about things he couldn’t control. He was trying to make his peace with it but it wasn’t so simple all of a sudden. Or maybe it was never simple. He just couldn’t quite figure out how to let the rest of the world guide him when he had always been the one calling the shots.

Dallon did this thing where he talked just to get Brendon to listen, to take his mind off of whatever it had drifted to. And Brendon had to admit that that wasn’t a pretty place. But sometimes Dallon really did help, as much as somebody who didn’t know how to help could. But Brendon didn’t blame him when his attempts were subpar, because this was new to him too. So he analyzed all of Dallon’s weird dreams that he’d had over vacation and tried to shut out his own, because they weren’t ones he wanted to know the meaning behind. He had a feeling he already knew.

“Hey, Urie.” Dallon snapped his fingers a few times and Brendon glanced up, a little disoriented. Had he been zoning out again? “You’re acting off. What’s on your mind?”

“Sex,” Brendon answered blatantly without a second thought.

Dallon glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, wearing his glasses today because he was out of contacts. He looked purer in them somehow, softer. Younger. “Sex.” He repeated, and Brendon nodded.

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it all weekend, actually. About what you said. Us not having resources. And like, don't get me wrong, the idea of sex disgusts me right now. We're not doing it anytime soon. Which sucks, but... I understand why I'm feeling this way. It's just that it's weird that things always come up at the worst times. Right now I have nothing to do but think. And then after what Shane said to me and what some random kid in the hallway assumed, what everyone's saying online, I just... I’ve been thinking about it too much.”

Dallon glanced at him through his bangs again and turned back toward the road. “About sex?” He clarified.

“Uh-huh. And, I don't know, I feel like my life is just a jumbled mess right now.” He gestured around with hands hidden in the too-long hem of his sweater sleeves. “First I get drugged and then assaulted and for the past few months the bullying has been bad. And for a little while after everyone found out about me being drugged, they calmed down, and now... it’s just the same people over and over again. And on the surface I know it doesn’t matter, words don’t define me and in a year I’ll never see them again and blah blah blah. But... deep down it still hurts.”

Brendon started to knit his fingers together in his lap before Dallon reached over and placed a gentle hand over his, somehow managing to keep things calm like he always did. Like he could tame a hurricane, if Brendon could be so lucky. “You’re allowed to hurt, Brendon. What you’ve been through this year is traumatic.”

He nodded, and that was important. He was allowed to hurt. Sometimes it felt like he wasn’t. “No, I know. And it sucks because the way I make sense of the world is by defining everything. I analyze it and make it mean something and I tie things together and I compartmentalize and now... everything is in shambles and I can’t seem to find a system that makes sense.”

Dallon nodded back, and Brendon twisted the ring off his finger and pushed it back on. “Well, the problem is that you’ve never experienced this before. You’re better in your comfort zone, where you can figure things out neatly and have your resources and solutions all mapped out. This is foreign to you, Brendon.”

“Yeah. It is. And it’s scary.” He looked down at his lap and poked at a hole in his jeans aimlessly, too all over the place, and Dallon retracted his hand to return it to the wheel. Brendon was distracted these days, always looking for something to fixate his mind on. Something to fidget with when he couldn’t help it. “I was thinking about sex ed. Because after it I threw up because I was thinking too hard about... something I shouldn’t have been thinking about. And it’s just absolutely useless to me. Because I’m gay and I’m going to be having sex with guys. And I know in this day and age it’s easy to find out everything you wanna know, but school is supposed to be beneficial to me and instead it’s done nothing but hurt me. I just think they should take into consideration that I need different lessons. Some of us do.”

Dallon nodded. “I understand.”

“So why don’t they have gay sex education?” Brendon asked, and not many things stumped Dallon but that was something that did. “Because I think that’s really important. Because it’s not just for the made-up gay people that people view us as, the sex obsessed ones, but it’s for twelve-year-old me that had to look up how gay sex worked because when I was thinking about my sexuality, I was confused. And I saw a lot of things on the internet that a twelve-year-old shouldn’t have to see, and it wasn’t the stuff that I should have learned in school. They should teach kids that.”

“I don’t know, Urie. They should, and you’re right, but the sad truth is that boys like us aren’t a priority. Fags don’t get special treatment.”

“We barely get treatment at all.” Brendon realized, and that was the saddest part. That there were people who had so many things handed to them and people who got nothing at all. Brendon started to wring his hands, avoiding looking at Dallon’s face because this wasn’t the direction he wanted them to go in. “I don’t know if I want to do it again,” Brendon admitted suddenly, like he’d been thinking it for so long and never wanted to say it. But Dallon looked up at him, nodded slowly, didn’t know what to say. “Just... fuck. Seriously, Dal, be honest: would you be okay with being in a relationship without sex?”

He was quiet for a second while Brendon played with his seatbelt, hoping for a yes because he didn’t know how to get better but he didn’t want to do it without Dallon. Dallon nodded, Brendon caught it out of the corner of his eye, and he turned, eyes wide. “Yeah, Bren, I would.” He admitted, and it felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. Brendon sighed in relief before he could realize he was, throwing his head back. He really didn’t know what he was expecting. “Our relationship isn’t about sex. I mean, I love everything we do but I understand if you feel like you can’t do it again. What happened to you is traumatic. If I went through that I probably wouldn’t want to be touched again either.”

“How did I find you?” Brendon asked, and the faintest smile appeared on Dallon’s lips when Brendon turned in the passenger seat and sighed. “Thank you. I don’t want it to come to that but at this point I don’t know. I’m trying to work towards feeling like myself again. I just don’t know how. But I’m gonna keep trying.”

“Well, I’m here for you, Urie.” He pat his thigh and Brendon reached out to take his hand, more grateful than he knew how to say.

“I missed you a lot, by the way,” Brendon added as Dallon turned onto a new road. Dallon looked at him, smiling though he had no idea. Four days felt like centuries to a boy who was so scared of being alone. “Like, BC just doesn’t feel the same when you’re not home.”

“I’m back now for a while,” Dallon promised, leaning over to kiss his cheek at a red light. Brendon caught his lips with his own, hadn’t seen him in days and he meant what he said, he missed him, he missed him more than he knew how to say, so he didn’t say anything, just kissed him until the car behind Dallon beeped and they laughed, not even having realized the light turned green.

Brendon missed him, and they linked their pinkies together as Dallon promised he wasn’t going anywhere.

* * *

At his usual time Brendon found himself picking at his nail polish in the seat across from Ms. Kenny’s desk, staring down at his shoes as she got a Diet Coke for him from the fridge. “What’s bothering you today, Brendon?” She asked as he tried to figure that out himself, handing him the can of soda.

“Um, sex.” He said, not exactly knowing how to articulate, and when she glanced up he added, “I threw up after sex ed. And it’s not because the female body grosses me out or anything, I’m sure it’s lovely, but... it made me think. And what bothers me the most, I think, is that I’m not being really... considered, I guess. Because I don’t need to sit through sex ed for straight people. That’s not really fair. Why do I have to accommodate them but they don’t have to accommodate me?”

“That’s a good question, Brendon.” She clucked her tongue in thought. “I think that people think it’s taboo, you know? They don’t see it every day so they don’t understand it. They don’t want to understand it. They don’t like hearing about things they’re unfamiliar with.” That wasn't news to him.

“But then there are those of us who are familiar with it, which is what really matters. I should be that important. They’re telling me I’m not important.” Brendon argued, because it was true. He emerged into his teenage years thinking he was worth nothing because he was gay, because people didn’t understand him so they didn’t bother. He was so sick of being belittled.

“I don’t think they think you’re unimportant, Brendon, I think they just think that majority rules.” She reasoned, and maybe so, but why did that matter? The point of school was to educate. He wasn’t getting educated.

“Which means that not everybody is getting the education they need to.” He shrugged, making circular motions with his can of soda before he took a sip. Ms. Kenny nodded, agreed completely, but there was only so much she could do.

“Listen, Brendon, at this point, there aren’t many things I can do to help. You can go to the GSA meetings...” The GSA with a total of four heterosexual freshman girls who were scrounging for a gay best friend? No thanks. “But when a gay student comes to me with questions I have to give you a pamphlet.” She reached behind her and Brendon worried his bottom lip as she grabbed a pamphlet and handed it to him. LGBTQ education, it read in big letters, and okay, straight people got an entire year’s worth of a class and all he got a lousy pamphlet. “I know, it’s lame and unfair, but-“

“It’s the best you can do.” He held up the pamphlet and then dropped it into his bag, discouraged. “I get it. Thanks.”

She made a face of apology, but he wasn’t expecting anything anyway. “I’m sorry, Brendon.”

“It’s whatever. I didn’t actually think I could change the way sex ed works and has worked forever. I just want some sort of equality. I don't know.” He leaned back in his seat, and suddenly it all felt like a losing battle. How was he supposed to know who he was if he had to expect a pamphlet to try to explain it to him?

“Why is this all coming up now, Brendon?” She asked, he knew she would, that was the guidance counselor thing to ask, after all. He shrugged half-heartedly and played with the tab on his soda, searching for the words he felt like he’d already spoken thousands of times before.

“People assume that I’m this sex obsessed nympho who can’t help but flaunt my gayness. My cousins think so. They were here for Thanksgiving and I kind of fought with my aunt because she acts like I'm going to turn her kids gay. It's like... people who are supposed to love me hate me because of it. And so do random strangers I've never seen before. Random people that walk by me here and only know me because of rumors. People posting things about me online. Rumors. And it’s so sad, you know, that I can’t walk through my school hallways without someone saying something mean to me. That I can't go online without getting bullied. I’m gay, yeah. And I’ve had sex, okay. I don’t wanna hide that. I love my boyfriend. I loved sleeping with him. Good for me. But people look at me and think that I’m this stereotype. Because they don’t know anything real about me. They don’t know anything real about gay people. And I’m sick of people saying I’m a slut because I’m gay. As if they’re the same thing. I’m sick of people assuming that I’m a slut when I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing.”

“So this is to take a stab at the stereotype.”

Brendon clucked his tongue in thought. “It’s to educate me on things that I think I deserve to know. Especially when I’m getting so much criticism for supposedly knowing it already. All of the risk, none of the reward.”

She looked up at him, oddly determined for such a tiny dreamer, and nodded, writing something down in her notes. “That’s important, Brendon.”

Brendon nodded too, but he didn’t know how much change he could enforce from here.

Back in Brendon’s bedroom that afternoon, he was trying to think about what Ms. Kenny said. It’s taboo. People don’t like to hear about what they’re unfamiliar with. But what about him? What about the boy who was scared to go to school because nobody understood him? Because people attacked him for everything he did, bullied him and laughed at him and mocked him because somehow he was less than. Because they thought he was too girly. Because they didn’t know a thing.

Brendon pushed a bottle of orange nail polish behind the crimson red one. It looked like blood, bright and deep and... he let his gaze linger too long again, hadn’t he? He shook his head, and Dallon turned back toward him. “D’you have a sparkly silver?” Dallon asked just then, and Brendon looked up from where he had been organizing colors to wherever they made sense, because something had to make sense.

“Uh, yeah.” He shifted up to grab the box from beside Dallon when he so easily could have asked him to push it toward him, but he needed to do something for himself.

There was something wrong. He knew it. For a few days he was strangely apathetic and neutral and it was the medicine. It had to be. Slowly it was seeping into his system, and what the doctors neglected to tell him was that it would take far too long it to replenish his system of the desired neurotransmitters. Bodies just... didn’t work so quickly sometimes.

He felt slow. He moved carefully, like a ghost trying not to be caught. Blue eyes followed his hands, feeling shaky though that was just his imagination. He felt bruised, broken, cut up, like he’d stuck his hand in a rose bush and came out with thorns. And blood dripped everywhere, draining out of his veins and spilling onto the wood floor beneath him, pooling at his ankles and soaking through his clothes. His skin was pale and gray, and his parents were picking out a casket, because he was as good as dead.

Sometimes he wished he was dead.

“You’re doing it again.” Dallon said suddenly, and Brendon barely found it in him to look up. His eyes wavered, Brendon’s dull, and he could have sworn Dallon had never known necromancy. Or maybe he had, and while Dallon was bleeding magic Brendon was just bleeding. “Zoning out. You’ve been staring aimlessly into that box for like, a good two minutes. What’s going on?”

Brendon wrapped fragile extremities around the sparkly silver nail polish and pulled it out from the top of the pile. His dissociation with reality left him unable to have two feet steady in time anymore, and now he was just disoriented and confused again, like he was spun around with eyes closed and couldn’t focus on walking straight. “Sorry. Nothing.”

He handed the bottle to Dallon, feeling sticky red on his fingers though nothing was there. “Brendon.”

Brendon shook his head, suddenly feeling lightheaded. Like blood was everywhere and suddenly each vessel in his brain was blocked. Could you overthink yourself to death? “He said that you and I parade around like we’re perfect but everybody thinks that I’m just a damsel in distress and you’re the one who saved me. I can’t stop thinking about it. And I don’t wanna believe it.”

Dallon didn’t even look up from where he was picking out a clear coat as Brendon’s eyes lingered on his own. “Because it’s not true.”

Brendon squirmed uncomfortably. “But what if-“

“It’s not true, Brendon.” Dallon interrupted with a little too much haste, and Brendon sat back in surprise. Dallon seemed to realize that he snapped, though, because he sighed to himself as he retracted his hand and shook his head, as if to remind himself to be careful. “Listen, it’s not true because you were just fine when I fell for you. And you were just fine when we got together too. I don’t know why he would say something like that because you’ve never been a damsel in distress. First of all, that’s seriously heteronormative. But it’s also just... it’s just a stupid assumption. That I’m with you just because I wanna fix you.” He looked down at the bottle of sparkly nail polish in front of him and picked it up, but second guessed himself and reached for the clear coat first. “You’re not broken, and you don’t need to be fixed.”

“I wasn’t.” Brendon amended quietly and Dallon looked up again, eyes inscrutable. “Fine, I mean. I was never fine. I was scared and people were bullying me and I wasn’t fine." He insisted, because he didn't want to get it twisted. He wasn't fine. He had never been fine. He had come to realize that too honestly lately. "It wasn't as bad as it was when I first came out but it was bad, Dallon. I was anxious all the time and I didn't want to get help because I didn't want to admit how bad I was doing. And I was scared to talk to you too, that’s why I never did. And even though it was really hard to let you in I'm glad I did because you make me feel safe. So maybe you did, y’know, save me. In a less cliché and dependent way, I guess. Right?”

“Perhaps.” Dallon shrugged, looked away again. Twisted the bottle open and let out the feelings Brendon kept in there too. “But you don’t have to doubt our relationship because some self-hating douche wanted to hit you where it hurts. I think we’ve had our fair share of issues, and we don’t need more. Don’t listen to what other people say. It’s all just noise.”

Brendon looked away too, down at his lap and a smudge of nail polish on the floor. “I don’t doubt our relationship. I just worry sometimes.”

“You’re allowed to worry. You just don’t have to.” Brendon looked up and Dallon nodded kindly at him, as if they were acquaintances. As if he wasn’t the love of his life. “Don’t waste your time worrying about people who don’t know anything about you. Or us. Waste your time worrying about things that are actually worth worrying about.”

Brendon watched him paint a nail, because he never did care what people think, and he didn’t know what else to say.

He ducked his head, and Dallon always seemed to get him.

* * *

It was no secret that Brendon wasn’t doing well. Everybody was walking on eggshells around him, understood that he was in a bad place, but didn’t ask questions they didn’t want the answers to. Brendon was unsure of the balance between too many questions and not enough, but as he found everybody treating him special, he realized that maybe that was the problem. Nobody was asking what he wanted. He wanted a lot of things but so many of them were irreversible, but most of all he wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened. He couldn’t do that so easily when everyone was swaddling him.

Tyler’s birthday rolled around and Brendon felt obligated to make an appearance at the gathering he was having. It was painful, holding Dallon’s hand so hard he left bruises and eyes flicking around anxiously just in case. He excused himself to the bathroom in the middle of everything and locked the door behind him. He cried into his hand, muffling the sound because he didn't want anybody to know.

Looking himself in the eye in the mirror as he washed his face, he realized that he was a terrible, horrible, awful best friend.

“I have to go,” Brendon whispered in Dallon’s ear as he returned to the party, leaving him to wait by the door as he apologized to his best friend and left in tears.

Tyler had promised it was okay, he got it, Brendon was fragile and couldn’t be around people, but Brendon hated himself for it, anyway. He had never been so abhorrent to his own emotions as he was now, having always wondered why he developed such visceral fear but never necessarily despised himself for it until he had a reason to possess it. Now it was different. Now things were personal.

“I’m a horrible person.” He said as he followed Dallon down the sidewalk.

“No you’re not, Brendon,” Dallon promised, opening the passenger seat door for him. “No one blames you.”

But Brendon shook his head, because when you blame yourself it’s hard to listen to what everyone else says.

Humiliated after the revelation of his inability to function regularly like a normal human being, Brendon locked himself in his room and vowed he was never going to come out. If he couldn’t stand to be in a room with his friends and a few other people Tyler knew then he had no hope. He was never leaving his house again. He never wanted to see another person as long as he lived.

Ty: hey lil b we’re going to the mall today you wanna go?

Brendon sighed, locking the screen again because he really just didn’t have an answer. Everybody understood that he wasn’t doing well and his promises meant nothing, because he wasn’t okay and he wasn’t believable when he said that he was. But being invited everywhere made him feel worse because it was a cycle: invitation, his saying no, everybody feeling bad. He was thinking of throwing his phone in a lake and starting anew.

His phone buzzed with Dallon’s special vibration pattern and Brendon stared at the screen before he answered it, blinking lazily up at the ceiling because he couldn't find it in him to care today. “Tyler says you haven’t been answering him in days.” He greeted without a hello. “Am I the only one you’ll talk to?”

Brendon pouted dissentingly at the ceiling. “Yes.”

Dallon let out a huff, the jingling of his keys in the background. “And why’s that?”

Brendon shrugged to himself, feeling his body lull itself to sleep with exhaustion. “Cause you’ve seen me naked so I figure it’s gonna take a lot for me to be embarrassed in front of you.”

“Ah.” Dallon sighed, and Brendon was guilty, didn’t want to ignore everyone, but had no choice. He was pathetic. No one had to see him like this. He didn't want to keep disappointing everyone. “Well, listen, Bren, I know you don’t like going out but we’re going to the mall in Paradise and we all want you to come. I’ll drive you there, we can meet everyone, we’ll get lunch, it’ll be fun.”

“No, thanks.”

“Brendon.” He sighed again, and Brendon swore Dallon never sighed this much. “Bren, we all wanna see you. You’ve been avoiding everybody for days. You don’t have to be embarrassed in front of any of us.”

But he did. For weeks he couldn’t do anything without throwing up or having a panic attack or bursting out crying. He had to cancel every plan or leave early or cry in the bathroom and he was getting sick of it so he was done. He was done putting himself in places where he knew it wasn’t going to end okay. “No, it’s not just that. I just don’t want to go. Seriously. Go without me.”

“Brendon, I don’t wanna leave you out,” Dallon lamented.

It didn’t seem like that big a deal but it was. It wasn’t just a trip to the mall. It was everybody spending time without Brendon, going out to eat and buying each other Christmas gifts that they’d have to secretly purchase when the recipient was across the store. They’d all talk about Brendon and his situation. That was inevitable. Brendon knew that in retrospect getting out of the house and spending time with the people he loved would be good for him, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He knew how it was going to end.

“But I don’t want to go. Therefore you are not leaving me out.” He explained like he was talking to a kindergartener, exhausted again because he thought Dallon of all people would get it. “I don’t care if you go without me. Please understand that.”

“I do, I promise, and I know you don’t wanna go but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad. We all do. It doesn’t feel fair to be hanging out and having fun without you. Are you sure you don’t wanna go?”

“Yes, Dallon, I’m sure. Stop worrying about me!” He insisted, and could feel Dallon's reluctance because he only had good intentions. Brendon appreciated that their lives were entwined sometimes, but he needed to be separate for a second. He needed a break. He just didn’t know how to ask for one.

“Okay, but I think coming out with us will be good for you.” He tried to convince him and Brendon closed his eyes, shaking his head to himself. He was already on the edge. He didn't want to be pushed over it.

He didn't want to keep having panic attacks in public bathrooms and having to lie to his friends. He didn’t want to do this anymore. Any of it.

“No. Dal. I just, I don’t wanna-“ He stopped and promptly burst into tears, overwhelmed all of a sudden because he didn't know how to help himself if he wasn't hurting everyone else.

“Oh, oh no. Brendon. Shit. I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to— fuck. I don’t wanna force you to do anything you don’t wanna do. I’m so sorry.” He apologized profusely, and Brendon covered his mouth to muffle the sound of himself crying. He was pathetic. He was never leaving his room again.

“It’s fine.” He managed to choke out through tears, and Dallon was quiet for a second, trying to analyze just how fine it actually wasn’t. Brendon could lie all he wanted but nothing would make him feel better now. Nothing would mask the truth he’d made so clear.

“No it’s not, baby. I made you cry.” He took a deep breath, caught in the middle of something he didn’t want to be caught in the middle of. “Look. I’m sorry. Do you want me to come over or something? Or should I leave you alone?” Dallon asked, reducing his tone to a gentle one, a fragile one, one he never spoke to Brendon. Brendon couldn’t tell whether to be insulted or to thank him because he didn’t want his pity. He never wanted to be pitied.

“No, don’t. Go out with everyone. I won’t be mad at you. I just wanna be alone for a little while. I need to take some time for myself. If I don’t answer that’s why. I’m not ignoring you, I’m not mad, I’m just gonna rest this weekend. I need to figure myself out right now. I’ll talk to you when I can.”

Dallon swallowed thickly, Brendon could hear it, and he closed his eyes again. He needed to let Dallon help him. He knew that. Just not today. “Okay, then I’ll let you go. I hope you feel better.”

Brendon sniffled before he could stop himself and tried hard not to picture the look on Dallon’s face. The worried look. That look broke Brendon’s heart every time. Suddenly, he was guilty all over again. “Thank you. I hope I feel better too.” He managed, voice breaking though Dallon was only quiet for a second before he decided not to mention it. Brendon whispered a goodbye before they hung up the line in unison, leaving him in total silence.

He rolled onto his side and pushed his fist against his nose, squinting his eyes dejectedly as tears threatened to fall again. During one of their sessions together, Ms. Kenny told Brendon that in order to feel less stressed, he needed to locate the stressor and try to eliminate it, that it was called problem-focused coping. Of course it was basic psychology and veritable but it felt useless because nothing seemed to work anymore. For weeks he tried to understand how he was feeling but even now he couldn’t figure it out. He felt hopeless. He was tired of waiting for trains that weren’t coming.

It was like this pressure coming at him in waves. College, his sister moving out, he and Dallon’s fragile stage, neglecting his friends, trying to manage not failing every class. Instead of compartmentalizing like he always had, instead of trying to figure it all out, he just wanted to close his eyes and pretend none of it was happening. He didn’t know how to fix things anymore. He wasn't sure he ever had.

“Hey, mama?” Brendon slid into a seat at the table as she made dinner and she looked up, surprised to see him out of bed. “Um, I have, like. A lot going on right now, and... I feel bad about telling my friends how I feel. So can I, like, talk to you?” He picked at his nail polish awkwardly, didn’t know how to tell her that he felt like he was drowning but wanted to try and find some buoy.

“Sure, ipo. What’s going on?” She took a seat at the table and he shrugged, pushing both hands through his hair because that was a loaded question. What wasn’t going on?

“It’s just— thinking about college and trying to keep up with my friends, being a good boyfriend despite everything, actually having the energy to do anything... I’m so stressed. And I shouldn’t be. Because aside from school none of this should be stressful. Right?” He looked up at her suddenly, eyes desperate for answers. “I shouldn’t be stressed because of my friends or boyfriend.”

“I think considering the circumstances, Bren, you can be stressed about whatever you want.” She lamented. And she was right, but that didn’t mean it was safe or okay to feel so much anxiety about people who loved him so much. It wasn’t worth it. “What are you thinking, babe?”

Brendon shook his head, overwhelmed. “I don’t know. I have no idea. What do you think? What do I do?” And he looked up at her with wide eyes, begging because he didn’t know what to do. He’d lost all sense of individuality somewhere along the way and now he was lost without it, letting everyone else pick who he was. She studied him for a second, questioning, and she didn’t want to have to make decisions for him. Not out of disdain but because after everything, Brendon deserved some sort of control.

“I think that for college you should stay here.” She suggested calmly.

“Mhm. I don’t wanna go away.” He put his head in his hands and she nodded in relief. He didn’t even want to think about that. College. Being away from home. What if he couldn’t get in anywhere? His grades were dropping, he didn’t even have a college essay written yet, he wasn’t ready. “I’m just... I’m really scared I’m gonna be alone once school starts. That everyone’s gonna go away and I’m gonna be here and they’re all gonna move on and leave me. Because not everybody has the problems I have. It’s gonna be so easy for them.”

“But they love you, Bren. And they’re not going to do that to you.” She cupped his cheek, hoped she was right. “Do you know what Dallon is doing for school?”

He shrugged, shaking his head, and maybe before he freaked out he should actually hear everybody else’s plans. “I think he wants to stay close but I don’t know. I guess I should figure that out soon.” He pressed his fingertips to his temple, giving himself a migraine with all this useless worrying. “I just wish he wouldn’t worry so much about me. It makes everything else seem tainted. Like everything is about preserving my feelings. Which it shouldn’t be.”

“Yeah, well, that’s who Dallon is. He cares. That’s more than you can say for a lot of people.” She reasoned, and she was right, she always ended up being right. “Do you wanna hear a secret?” She added, and he peeked up at her through his fingers. “Going away to college is hard for everybody.”

“So not even my fears are unique. That’s awesome.”

She stifled a laugh. “Brendon, the point is that you shouldn’t expect any of it to be easy. Transitioning from high school to college. Dealing with this. It’s easy to worry about what’s gonna go wrong but you should focus on what’s going right.” Brendon pouted and she got up to wrap her arms around him, rocking him back and forth like a baby because to her, he still was one. “You’ve got a family who loves you. You’ve got money for college because half of each of your paychecks go to it, and your father and I have been saving for you because we believe in you. And you have wonderful friends who want to stand by you through this. So take a deep breath, try to calm down, and get everything done. I’ll help. C’mon.”

She pulled away and he nodded, because he knew that that was the best thing to do. Get everything done before he let himself relax because if he didn’t, he never would. “Thank you, mama.”

“Sure, babe.” She kissed the top of his head, and he didn’t really know how to tell her that it meant more to him than she knew. “Go get your laptop. We’ll work on it together.”

“Okay.” He got up, and he could feel her watching him as he left the room.


	38. Chapter 37: Civil Wrongs

Brendon thought about what he and his mother talked about that night as he filled out his applications and attached his college essay, tugging on the heart strings with a story about his past that he had struggled to write though his mother helped him fill some in here and there. He shut off his phone and dedicated his Sunday to it, applying, weighing his options, trying to decide what he wanted in a future. He went to bed Sunday night feeling like he actually had something accomplished.

The feeling in his stomach was unbearable from the moment he opened his eyes that Monday morning. He sat up in tears, having tossed and turned at the expense of a dozen nightmares that screamed loud enough to wake him up each time, and at some point he lost track of how many he’d had. Brendon’s mother called for breakfast and he couldn’t do it, school, getting dressed, seeing his friends, sitting through class. Having to look Tyler in the eye after avoiding him for a week. Having to admit something he didn’t want to admit.

He climbed out of bed and made his way downstairs, swaddled in his favorite sweatshirt and trembling as he padded across the kitchen floor. His mom looked up to greet him but as she saw tears welling up in his eyes she pulled him into a hug instead, tucking his head against her shoulder. "What's wrong?" She asked, rubbing his arm.

Brendon didn't know how to answer because he didn’t know what was wrong. "I don't know." And he really didn't.

"Are you okay?" She asked. It was a dumb question but she had the right to ask, and when she pulled away with Brendon's face in her hands, he shook his head. He didn't know what to say. He was just sorry. "Do you wanna stay home? Just for today?"

"Yeah." He choked out as tears slid down his cheeks, and he was so pathetic, he was so weak, and he wished he had the guts to just jump out of his bedroom window because he was sick of this, so sick of this, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

"You want something to eat?" She gestured to the stove, but he shook his head rapidly. He couldn't possibly eat anything; he'd probably puke it up. "Okay, baby, go upstairs. I'll come check on you later." She nudged him gently and promised to call him in sick, so he disappeared upstairs to lock himself in his room and sob into his pillow.

After a while his mom knocked quietly on his bedroom door and he looked up when she let herself in, wiping his cheeks and not bothering with a hello. It was like a trade. She let him stay home, and in return he had to talk to her. Or let her talk to him, anyway. Tell her the things he wanted to hide and listen to her advice though she had never been a teenage gay boy with a mental illness so he doubted she could say anything worthwhile.

"What's going on now, Bren?" She asked, going to take a seat on his bed.

"Nothing." He pouted, not wanting to tell her because she always worried so much when she found out the things Brendon felt the need to hide.

"Brendon." She insisted, rubbing his upper back as if to say he could trust her. He knew he could. It was just that she took everything so seriously, like she'd never been a teenager and never understood that this was just what it was. Bullying. Getting dirty looks from strangers and mean messages and a few bad interactions at school. Feeling pathetic and out of place and tired all the time. That was high school. That was life.

He sighed, hooking his chin over his pillow and blinking up slowly to meet her eyes. “People are saying mean things about me online, mama.” He admitted quietly.

“What do you mean people are saying mean things about you online?” She asked sternly, and when he didn’t answer right away she demanded, “Show me.”

He squirmed and went to grab his phone from the table, fumbling to open up Twitter and handing it to her wordlessly. “I don’t know who started it but they’re saying I tried to force him to have sex with me. And that I’m some sort of prostitute, and that I’m a cheater, and-“

“Brendon.” She shook her head and he stopped, wiping tears off his cheeks before he’d even realized he’d been crying again. “You need to delete this right now. I don’t want to dictate what you do online but this is terrible and not worth it. You can’t be seeing this.”

“Mom, it’s Twitter.” He insisted like that meant anything to her.

“I don’t care what it is, Brendon. Delete it. How do you delete an account?” She forced him to show her and he cried as he did, not so much that it was important as much as the fact that it was him giving up. Letting them win. “Brendon, I know your generation wants to be constantly connected but you can’t see this. This is cyberbullying.”

“But I can’t do anything about it if I’m not on there to defend myself!” He argued, feeling pathetic.

“You can’t do anything anyway! And I don’t want you responding to these people. Be the bigger person. Come on.” She rubbed his shoulder and shut off his phone for him, not bothering to ask. “You need to rest. Stop obsessing over what these strangers think of you.” She slipped his phone into his drawer and kissed his forehead. “Don’t go on that stupid website again. And don’t let people try and tell you who you are.”

"It's not that easy, mama." He cried.

"I know, honey, but there's nothing else you can do, okay? Please. Try to take it easy." She insisted, no one ever seemed to understand, and he only nodded because he was done talking about it. He was just a stupid kid getting teased online. There was nothing special about him. "I love you, keiki. Please rest. I'll check on you later."

"Alright." He agreed, he didn't know how to rest anymore, and she got up to leave him be. Leave him to wallow in his own self-pity, as he always did. It was so tragic, feeling bad for yourself. So pathetic. So humiliating.

He curled up in bed and made a noise of distress as his vision blurred, tired after barely any sleep and willing himself to because he was just so sick of being awake. He stared at his window with depletion, wondering if he should just get it over with, until his thoughts had drowned out by silence and he drifted in and out of sleep, his head pounding and dizzy.

Brendon was shaken awake by another nightmare when he woke up in a cold sweat, body aching. He laid on his back with a sigh, wiping his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, and this couldn’t be his new reality. He didn’t want to have to live like this forever. He stared at the ceiling, devoid of energy, and tried to make out shapes in the tiles when he heard a quiet knock on his door. He looked up, and it had been a while since anybody came up to look for him, and he wondered if they were coming to make sure he was alive. It wasn’t such an unusual thing to wonder, if he was alive.

With furrowed eyebrows he called, "Come in.”

The door opened slowly and a timid Dallon stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Brendon’s stomach flipped, he hadn’t seen Dallon in days, didn’t know how he could even face him like this, but Dallon walked like he knew his place because he did. “Hi.” He greeted quietly, searching big brown eyes, and Brendon could barely look back at him.

"Hi." Instead, Brendon looked back up at the ceiling and scooted over so that Dallon could have some room, because maybe Brendon knew Dallon too well, and maybe that was starting to scare him.

Just as Brendon expected Dallon laid down beside him with a little grunt, and Brendon could feel Dallon's arm press against his own while he looked up at the ceiling too, as if it were holding the answers to the world's unanswered questions, or maybe just Dallon’s. They remained like that for a minute, just staring at the ceiling and never at each other, breathing quiet and volatile before Dallon was the first to speak.

"I missed you today." His voice was sincere and Brendon's stomach was in knots, the feeling of anxiety in his gut getting worse and worse now that Dallon was something tangible again.

"I wasn't feeling school," Brendon admitted, wringing his hands over his stomach. Dallon could see it, took note of the boy’s nervous ticks, didn't dare mention it.

"Your mom said it was a mental health day." Dallon kept his hands by his sides though Brendon trusted him, maybe too much. He nodded silently, tilting his head to the side so Dallon couldn't see his face. "I just wanted to visit. To make sure you're okay."

"Thank you." He still didn't look at him.

He could feel the boy staring at him out of the corner of his eye but he couldn't bring himself to look him in the eye. He just stared at the wall, focused too hard on nothing. There was a crack in the wall, maybe from too many tacks and nails, maybe one day in the midst of some random bout of anger he had kicked it, maybe it had always been that way. He couldn’t remember. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems a lot like you're upset with me."

Brendon's heart sped up and he turned to look painfully into Dallon's eyes. It hurt, seeing the sullen worry in them. He hated that look. He hated what the past two months had done to him. "No, Dallon, it's not that. It’s not that at all."

"Then what is it, Bren? Because I’m scared that you’re shutting me out and I just..." He let his words trail off. When Brendon ducked his head again, Dallon reached out softly to tangle his fingers with Brendon's, and it took everything in him not to shy away from the touch he knew he didn’t deserve. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Brendon let out a quiet sigh and met his eyes again, reluctant but still inviting, somehow. "I need my space, I think.” He admitted, and Dallon swallowed, nodded despite the look in his eye. “I want you around, but sometimes I need to be alone for a minute. And I hate that, because I want you here. And I just had a rough night.”

“That’s understandable. I felt the same way too. I needed to be alone.” Brendon tilted his head to look at him again. Just trying to solve things for himself, not turn away completely. “What happened last night?”

“I was looking at colleges. I was filling out my common app and applying. And... I'm scared. I know it's stupid to be so insecure, and I need to put myself first in terms of school, and so do you. And I don't know if I'm the only one who thinks this, but what we have is really good, and I don't want us to end because of college. But what if we're far away from each other? What if we have to break up because of distance? Or what if we break up because of something else? School might get too busy, or you might meet some cute talented boy at art school and fall in love with him because of everything you have in common. You might get sick of how clingy I am."

"Baby." Dallon sat up and immediately pulled Brendon into a hug when the boy followed, tightening his grip around his shoulders and burying his face against the side of his neck like he couldn’t imagine a world where he wasn't touching Brendon, inhaling his scent, loving him unconditionally. "That's not gonna happen."

"How can you be so sure?" Brendon whispered against Dallon's shoulder while Dallon rubbed his back soothingly, right in the spot between his shoulder blades, a guilty pleasure Dallon happened to find. He pulled away to thumb Brendon's cheek lovingly, to reassure him that whatever he was thinking wasn’t real, it was the anxiety getting in his head. He knew that, but it didn’t make it any less pernicious.

"You changed my life, Brendon. Every time I look at you I remember what it felt like the first time I looked at you. And the second, and the third, and every time after that.” Tears pooled in Brendon’s eyes. “I don’t wanna let that go. I never wanted to let you go. And things have changed, and things are gonna keep changing, but I really think that no matter where we end up, it's gonna be fine." He tucked a lock of hair behind Brendon’s ear. “Things have changed but my love for you hasn’t. You’re still my Brendon and I wanna be with you no matter what.”

Brendon pulled him into another hug and buried his face in the crook of his neck, because he didn’t know what to say. He opened his mouth, closed it, a thank you died in his throat. Words failed him like that sometimes. But sometimes they remedied things all the same. "Okay."

"Is that it?" Dallon asked, brushing fingers through feathery brown hair. Sometimes Brendon had no idea how he did it, knew the right thing to say. Sometimes he wondered where along the line Dallon found out how exactly to crawl under his skin and make his way to his heart in the dark, if he could pinpoint in time the exact moment where Dallon started to know him like the back of his hand.

"I don't know." Brendon pulled away and let Dallon wipe away his tears like dirt with soft, intricate fingers. They could unravel him if they desired the destruction, but some things were always left undone. "You know that feeling where you wake up and you don't feel like yourself? And there's nothing specifically wrong but any thought just makes you suddenly really cold and shaky and you can't take anything more than laying in bed because that's the only thing you can do?"

"I know it more than you think," Dallon whispered, nodding too softly, and Brendon knew he would understand. Even when Brendon didn’t understand, Dallon did. It was one of his superpowers, actually, reading between the lines when they were too blurred for Brendon to read them himself. It was one of those things he never thanked him for, but they both knew it was more than a thank you, anyway. "How are you doing?"

"I’m trying to get used to having depression and the meds and the coping. It's a lot to take. It's a lot to think about." He rubbed at his eyes with the sleeves of his sweater like it would prevent tears. And it wouldn’t and they both knew that, but it wasn’t like Dallon hadn’t seen him cry. Brendon was making that one too easy these days. "It's overwhelming. And I keep thinking about how I didn't know. Why didn't I know?"

"It's not always easy to tell, Bren." He said calmly, smoothing down Brendon’s hair with his fingers because he was fidgeting again and he didn’t realize. He just... he wanted answers, and the world wasn’t going to give them to him. He just needed to try and get them out of Dallon instead.

"But you knew that you were depressed." He tried desperately to make sense of it all, but he couldn’t. How did depression just randomly show up? How did it decide that after seventeen years, now was the time to creep up like an old ghost, or maybe those skeletons hiding in his closet?

"I didn’t. Not at first. I was just mad, Bren, and then I tried to kill myself and they diagnosed me and I thought it was stupid because this all happened after my father died, so of course I was depressed. I didn’t realize that depression stems beyond a single event. And sometimes there's not a prominent shift like mine. Sometimes the shift is unemphatic. I don't know what else to tell you. I wish I could explain it to you better."

He slid a hand down Brendon's arm carefully, but Brendon knew what he meant. It wasn’t his fault that his shift had been so delineated. Dallon had a reason, a justification. The world would never give Brendon something so tidy. "It's just, it's not like I can just compare myself to you because it's so different." He used a hand gesture to emphasize.

"I know, baby. But you can’t compare yourself to me because we’re different people. Like I said, it’s complicated. They barely knew how to diagnose me. When something is so convoluted that the professionals can’t figure it out, you can tell that it’s incomparable. You and I are going to be so immensely different." Dallon shifted closer, holding his hand so he wouldn’t scare off. Everything seemed to scare him these days. "You can talk about it if you need to. I'm always here for you. I'm always here to listen."

Brendon nodded; he was right. "Thank you. I know you are. It's just so... overwhelming. And sudden.” He pressed his hand into his face. “For weeks it’s been impossible for me to do anything. I can’t deal with my friends and talking to anybody exhausts me and I’m so sick of this. I’m tired, and I’m miserable, and it's not fair. I don’t wanna be like this anymore. Not that people with depression are bad, like, obviously depression itself is bad, but, you know what I mean."

"I do." He promised.

"I don't feel anything. I don't wanna hurt myself and I don't have a lot of symptoms or anything, at least I didn’t think I did. I just have this feeling that sometimes everything is too much and then I just shut down." He rambled on, trying to explain it but he didn’t know how. Everything was just so frustrating.

"Sometimes you don't have all the symptoms, but that doesn't mean you're not depressed, Bren. You might not feel it all the time, but depression isn't always a perpetual thing. It comes and goes. And it's different for everyone.”

"So I guess mine isn't that bad." He concluded, putting himself down with the assumption that he didn’t have it as bad as others, and he didn’t know if he could put himself in that box. He didn’t want to be in a box at first but now he was realizing that maybe he had to be.

"Considering the fact that you couldn’t get out of bed today, your depression is pretty bad, baby.” He strokes his cheek with his index finger, not trying to scare him though Brendon had passed that line. “At least it is right now. I think there's a spectrum. I mean, my illness is that feeling of emptiness. And I have suicidal thoughts, and I've done things to hurt myself." He tried to elaborate, and Brendon's heart dropped a little, but he didn't say a word. "I guess yours is a little less dangerous than mine. You don't..."

"Have suicidal thoughts?" He finished for him, and Dallon nodded reluctantly. "Not... really. I mean, I haven’t let myself think it. I don’t wanna.”

"Okay, good." Dallon pulled him into another hug, relieved despite Brendon’s reluctance. He hadn’t seriously considered it, he just... wondered. "Please tell me if you do. I wanna help you, my love, in any way I can."

"I know, Dal, and I promise I'll tell you if anything feels wrong.” He whispered into his shoulder. “And it’s not even just about this whole having depression thing. It’s not even just having to learn what’s going on with me and getting used to it. It’s like... I just thought I knew me better than this, you know? I thought I had some sort of security in who I was. And it’s sad that a doctor has to tell me who I am before I’m able to. I hate the box this puts me in. Now I don’t know what to do or how to cope.”

"Hey, you don’t have to do that. Don’t put yourself in boxes. I know that’s what you do but you are so much more than your mental illness, baby. It doesn’t define you.” Dallon leaned in to press his lips to Brendon’s cheek and then his mouth, gentle and docile and beautiful in its simplicity. “And as for the coping... I know you know what I do but don’t let me influence you. Don’t let anyone influence you. Don't hurt yourself. I know it's hard to deal with and I know doing that might make you feel like you have control but there are so many better ways to get control. It just takes a little time.”

"I know. And after seeing what you did to yourself, I don’t think I could face that again. I promise you, I’m not gonna do anything bad to myself, Dallon. It isn’t that bad right now." Brendon pulled away and offered a convincing smile. Dallon had stuck a lit cigarette on his forearm because his demons were too dark, and Brendon was going to keep away from that world. His skeletons were staying in his closet where they belonged, he wouldn’t let them out to manifest themselves in bad decisions. If they made their sweet escape, that would be the time to worry.

Dallon thumbed his cheek carefully, looking at him like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was that Brendon was still alive and okay, or as okay as he could be. "Okay. I'm just making sure." He caught his lips in another quick kiss, leaving a half smile in his wake. Somehow, he’d found the only thing to make Brendon smile. "Do you want me to go? If you wanna be alone, then-"

Brendon interrupted timidly, "Actually, can you stay?”

Dallon nodded and let Brendon pull the covers back before they both crawled underneath the layer of warmth together. When Dallon settled down under Brendon's comforter Brendon nuzzled into him, a head against his chest and their legs tangled together. Dallon started carding his fingers through his hair lovingly, Brendon’s soft spot, and he felt protected, guarded, like Dallon was the only thing that made him feel safe anymore. "Did you sleep at all?"

"I’ve been trying. Anxiety." Brendon’s voice was muffled against Dallon's sweater.

"Okay." He pressed a kiss to the top of Brendon's head, knew him well enough to know that he couldn’t handle anything more than being held right now. "I don't have homework. And my mom said I can stay as long as I want, especially for your mental health."

In spite of himself, Brendon smiled and leaned in closer. "My mental health is terrible. I need, like, a century's worth of cuddles."

"I can do that." Dallon wrapped both arms around his waist and squeezed him tight. Burying his face into the hair on the side of his head, right above his ear, Dallon mumbled, “It’s gonna be okay, Brendon. It’s only a matter of time before you figure things out.”

“Yeah.” Brendon peeped. He couldn’t say anything else, could only give a weak nod, but he really hoped that Dallon was right.

* * *

Dallon stepped across the grass and tugged his jacket sleeves over his hands as the cool December air met his skin. He hadn’t been spending much time outside, instead finding shelter in places where he liked to hide, but Nevada was never too bitterly frozen and besides, he had people to see.

“Hi.” He whispered, balling up his fists and daring to take a seat on the cold ground.

Whatever snow had fallen melted just as quickly, it never stuck around in Boulder City, but still Dallon couldn’t help but wonder why lately the temperatures had been dropping. Snow in Vegas, and everybody was freaking out. Hadn’t it always been this cold? After spending years with a frozen inside, the guise of your extremities are frostbitten and you stop noticing, start counting.

“You, um. You told me once, this thing that I’ll never forget.” He settled down, criss-crossing his legs like a child at story time though he was the one telling the story this time, without the innocence and wonder and dreams. “It was you and mom’s anniversary. And I was little. And you kissed her, and I thought you were gonna get cooties. And you said sometimes it’s worth the bad stuff because there’s good stuff, too. And I never got what that meant. Even when I grew up, I didn’t think I wanted to have to go through any bad stuff. Whatever that meant. I didn’t know. Now I do.”

He tilted his head back and squinted up at the sky, and he didn’t know what he was expecting but he was disappointed when there was nothing but gray. And in a place like this that was all you saw anyway, like color drained and it was all sketched in black and white like a movie or a graphic novel. Except entertainment and real life were different, and it wasn’t so pretty when you couldn’t open your eyes or look away and see color again.

“This boy...” He whispered, but the words froze on his tongue. He was so much more than a boy. He was a dreamer. He was a listener. He was a hero. “There are lessons you learn over and over again in your life. This is one of them. He taught me that. That real love is worth everything. And it’s gross, and cliché, and I hate that I’m one of those people I used to make fun of because I never thought I would love anybody in this way. But this boy taught me.”

Brendon Urie was smarter than anybody really knew. Because it was easy to be school smart. Book smart. It wasn’t easy to learn how to handle yourself, or to stand up for yourself, or to realize when something was wrong. There were things that Dallon saw in Brendon that not a lot of people saw. In this way that you could only really see if you wanted to.

“And the thing is, I know that not everyone has a fair run. We’re all the heroes of our own story, but that doesn’t mean we’re not the bad guys in someone else’s. And I’ve been thinking a lot. And I’ve been trying to find a reason for all of this but I can’t find one. Are we just driving ourselves crazy? Because I feel psychotic, spending so much time trying to realize why everything is spinning out of control. Why everybody and the world hate him so much when he’s so small and helpless.”

He plucked aimlessly at the blades of grass, and it didn’t make sense. Everybody being against Brendon because it was so easy for them to be. He was just this boy, who loved too much and didn’t know how to hold grudges and apologized for things that weren’t his fault. He wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t dangerous. He was just... scared.

"He's been shutting me out. And I know that he's doing it because he's scared, we're both so fucking scared, daddy, but I don't know how to help. I always thought I would. He's guilty about it, but I really don't blame him. And I don't want him to think that I do." Dallon pushed his sleeve covered hand against his nose, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know, I’m so confused. Brendon’s my entire heart. And I feel like I’ve almost lost him so many times in the past few months, and now... I’m worried that I’m gonna lose him again. And I’m scared just saying that. But it’s so easy to expect the worst when bad things constantly happen. And he’s good at hiding, and I don’t want him to hide from me. I just want us to be honest with each other. I don’t want him to stop trusting me.”

He sniffled, and that was it. They had trust issues, and they didn’t know how to talk to each other sometimes, and what was even worse was trying to figure out how to dance around that. He didn’t want to dance around it anymore.

“Okay.” He sighed, and whispered a goodbye, as he began to get up and dust himself off. He wanted to see Brendon. He needed to see Brendon.

He turned on his heel to stare at the flattened grass before he continued down the path, all the way to the end of it.

Something in Brendon found it impossible to be around people, but Dallon knew because he found that in him too, sometimes. Because it felt so impossible making an effort. It felt... useless. They’d been estranged before, had felt each other drift, but sometimes there was this impenetrable warmth between two people who melted so easily together. And when you found that warmth, you didn’t let it freeze, no matter how cold the air became.

Brendon was laying in bed with his gaze on the ceiling when there was a knock on his open doorframe, catching his attention where he was staring unseeingly. Dallon forced a smile but it faded away before it was real, and Brendon let one side of his mouth tilt up just the slightest. His skin tingled from the cold, and he tugged his blanket up over his arms, didn’t bother to say hello. They were past greetings, by now.

“Hey. Your mom let me in. Um.” Dallon shifted awkwardly in place, and Brendon nodded minutely, didn’t really know what to say. “So, I know you’ve been needing your space lately, but, um. I’m kind of not good right now, and I... I need you.” He lingered by the door hesitantly, an apologetic look in his eye and his body turned toward the exit, just in case.

But Brendon nodded, shifted his weight on the bed. Because he understood needing somebody so desperately when he wasn’t okay. He understood that Dallon had his own feelings, separate from Brendon’s and the ones he chose to share with him, separate from the ones he hid behind lies. He knew that some of his days weren’t good either. So he scooted over in bed and pat the spot beside him, warm and inviting and silent. Dallon didn’t smile but he didn’t not smile, just pressed his lips in a line, because words didn’t matter today. He crawled under the covers, nuzzled his face against Brendon’s arm, and words didn't matter.

“You know,” Brendon whispered, and Dallon closed his eyes, settled down and sighed as Brendon reached up to tangle their fingers together, warm flesh against his own, “it’s tricky. Because one day I feel like I’ll die if I’m not next to you and the next day I need space to breathe. And I hate that I feel like that because I used to just want you around all the time. And I can’t find any peaceful balances. I either need you or I need to be alone. It just feels like I can’t possibly find any comfortable in between for anything. I can’t even... feel anything right now. I’m just... numb.”

“Hey, I get it.” Dallon ran his thumbnail over Brendon’s veins. “Your body is adapting to the medicine and you’re adapting to the unfamiliar situation. I get it. And listen, I understand needing someone or needing space, too. More than you know.” He nosed Brendon’s bicep carefully, breathing quiet, and Brendon felt the cool metal of his nose ring press against his soft skin. “When I’m in a bad place I either need your comfort or I need you to give me room to think. You’re trying to find your balance between all that. And it fluctuates.” He was quiet for a second, thinking. Calculating. “If you want me to go...”

Brendon shook his head faster than he needed to but not fast at all, like he was living in slow motion. He had been for a while now. “I’m not gonna lie, I kind of needed to be alone today. And then you show up and I remember that sometimes you’re the only reason I feel okay.” He pressed his lips against the top of Dallon's head, making the boy shift closer underneath the duvet, pressing their bodies together. Close, close, not close enough. Every time he wanted to be alone he remembered what that was like, and suddenly head space was just too much of it all at once. It was one of those uncontrollable things: either too much, or not enough. Another balance he couldn’t quite find. “What’s goin’ on, Dallon?”

Dallon shook his head dismissively and sighed. “I visited my dad today. Sometimes I go to him when I have a lot of weight on my shoulders. I just like to sit there and talk or rant or think and I’ve had a lot of thinking to do.” He reached up to swipe his index finger against Brendon’s chin playfully, but lacking two smiles. “When people I care about are in bad places, I tend to go to my own bad place. And it’s not your fault, it just... it’s a reminiscent, I guess. And so I go to him and talk because I need to get some stuff off my chest.”

Dallon could feel the rise and fall of Brendon’s stomach when he arched into him, stretching and sliding a leg in between Brendon’s under the covers. “What do you talk about?”

He shrugged lazily, and as he wanted to close his eyes, the desire to look at Brendon was stronger. “Everything. School, my mom, you. I talk a lot about you. About how good you are, how he was right when he told me that I would fall in love with someone so perfect for me when I least expected it.” He smiled to himself, almost, reliving memories Brendon couldn’t see. “He would have loved you.”

Brendon smiled warmly at him, catching this gleam in blue eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He touched Brendon’s chin aimlessly. “Seriously. I wish he could have known you. I wish you could have known him. You’d get along so well, you know? You’re funny and kind and awkward and he would have loved that. And he probably would have pulled you aside to tell you that he would find you if you ever hurt me. And he would’ve shown you my embarrassing baby pictures, and I’d overhear you guys talking about how much you love me, and honestly, Brendon, he would have loved you.”

Brendon watched his eyes, where underneath Dallon saw another life. Another life where his father and Brendon coexisted, shared him in common. Brendon would have loved that. “Well, if he’s anything like you or your mom, I would have loved him too.”

Dallon let out what was supposed to be a hint of a laugh like all of a sudden, he was thinking of something new. Something that wasn’t so reminiscent. “It was stupid. It happened in the middle of the night. He was out driving. And I was in eighth grade, I was reading this really fucking bad book for school, and I got so tired of it that I actually fell asleep. And when I woke up, it was late, but I didn’t know what time it was. I didn’t know what day it was. And my mom came into my room to wake me, and I kinda just shrugged away from her. I was tired, y’know? And then she told me we had to get to the hospital.”

“Why was he driving at night?”

“I don't know. Sometimes he did that. And I never thought anything of it. But someone hit him. And he was dead when we got to the hospital, you know. So I didn’t get to say goodbye. He was just... dead. Right on impact. And I don’t know if they thought they could revive him or something, they wanted to keep all that information between them and my mom, but I get it. She wanted me away from it.”

Brendon shook his head in disbelief, didn’t want to think about it. “I don’t blame her. That... that’s a lot.”

Dallon shrugged, and Brendon twisted the ring on his finger carefully. “I know, I don’t blame her either. I just... I wish they hadn’t treated me like a kid. At that point, I wasn’t a kid anymore. And I remember that we were at the hospital for hours, she had to fill out all sorts of forms and she had to get all this information and I was just sitting there. I was in this chair and it was weirdly placed, like it and this one other chair were just sitting there in such a weird spot in the hallway. In between doors. And I sat there and thought about that. Not about my dad, not about anything else. Just about why those chairs were so weirdly out of place, and how I hate the way converse feel without socks, and how inside of a hospital it always feels like daytime because of the bright fluorescent lights.”

Dallon’s tales of the hospital made Brendon’s heart break every time. And he would shake his head to try and rid his mind of the thought of a fifteen-year-old Dallon facing the scary truth, but it would stick in his mind for a long, long time. “I hate that you didn’t get to say goodbye. That would kill me.”

“I know. But it’s not like I could have known before it happened. I just had to make myself okay with it because it was happening. And the thing is, at fifteen you don’t picture the worst possible thing possible happening to you. You’re unprepared. I was unprepared. And I started coping in dangerous ways because I was fighting back when the world went after me. But I guess somewhere along the line I realized that it wasn’t just my being fifteen. Because in any case, at any age, things that are unpredictable happen and you’ll find yourself doing whatever you can to make sense of it.”

“Just like this.” He figured.

“Yeah. Like this. You couldn’t have known about this, Bren. And now you’re trying to make sense of it even when that’s near impossible.” He pressed a kiss to his arm and Brendon felt it deep. “I get that feeling of apathy. Because sometimes feeling something takes so much energy and it’s too much to handle. That’s how I felt. There was too much to feel so I just... didn’t feel at all.”

“I hate it. I hate not knowing what to feel. Even worse, I hate unpredictability. And I want to be able to be in control of my feelings but now I’m anxious all the time or I’m sad or I’m angry but I’m not feeling like I used to. And it’s scary. I’m really scared, Dallon. I hate feeling this scared.” He whispered like he didn’t want the skeletons to hear. “Especially in my room. Cause when I was little, y’know, I was scared of the skeletons in my closet. And it’s stupid ironic now, yeah, but now... it’s like there’s this whole new meaning to that. I’m scared of the skeletons in my closet. I hate how cliché that is.” He ran a hand down his face in distress because all of a sudden this just felt so pathetic. “I don’t know, Dal. I just want it to go away. I feel like everything is screaming in my ear and it’s like my own fucking hell.”

Dallon exhaled slowly. “Sweetheart.” He shifted in bed to sit up, pulling a teary-eyed Brendon in against his chest.

“I miss having dreams,” Brendon cried, and his body shook when Dallon hugged him tight. “I miss going to sleep and having a good dream and waking up happy. It’s all nightmares. And I’m scared, Dallon, I’m so scared and I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m sorry,” Dallon apologized quietly, but tears pooled in his eyes and he didn’t know what to say. “Let me sing to you. I’ll sing you to sleep. And I’ll call you every night and I can talk to you until you fall asleep and I’ll keep talking to you until you’re okay. I want you to be okay.”

“I don’t think...” He hiccupped, and a tear slid down Dallon’s cheek. “I don’t think I’m ever gonna be okay again.”

“Don’t say that,” Dallon whispered, burying his face in his hair and inhaling the smell of Brendon’s shampoo, and he missed that smiling boy he admired all summer, but now he was just getting to know a different Brendon. One who wasn’t as carefree. But he was still him, just without certain parts of who he had been. Dallon knew what that was like.

“Sing to me.” Brendon tugged at his shirt, and tears spilled over innocent eyes as he dared to look at him. “Dal, please.”

“Shh.” Dallon shushed him, brushing fingers through messy hair, and he loved Brendon, loved him so much that it hurt when he couldn’t fix this. There was only so much he could do. He started to sing to him, stroking his hair, and Brendon buried his face in his chest.

His voice was quiet, palliative, and in his somnolence Brendon let his eyes fall shut because suddenly it was like he didn’t even need to be here. Dallon cradled him like a baby, pet his hair and rocked him gently, swaddling him though now he understood why everyone did. He simply fell apart if they didn’t.

Brendon was lulled to sleep as Dallon rubbed his arm gently, trying to calm him down. He did that sometimes, worked himself up and then fell asleep easily, afraid of confronting it so he tried to sleep it off instead. Dallon let him, because he’d never been one for confrontation anyway, and Brendon was good at avoiding his problems.

Brendon was breathing quietly against Dallon’s stomach when Dallon realized he’d fallen asleep, singing some song Brendon always loved when it played through his car radio and carding fingers through his hair like he couldn’t believe he had him, his Brendon, despite his fears and questions and vulnerability. Brendon slept curled up against him, like he trusted him, and he did, because after everything there was only so much trust he had left.

Dallon watched him sleep silently, listening to the sound of him breathing like he appreciated it much more than he’d say. And he did, because it felt like a miracle that Brendon was still here, falling asleep peacefully like he could forget everything wrong for a minute. Dallon loved him, the way his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, the way he breathed because he was alive.

Dallon dozed off but awoke to the sound of Brendon muttering something incomprehensible under his breath. Dallon squinted his eyes open and Brendon was squirming, suddenly out of place again, as he went to wake him up. “Urie,” Dallon whispered, poking at Brendon’s arm gently until he stirred. “Hey, Urie.” Brendon made a noise against his arm and moved from it to his chest, curling up into a ball as Dallon rubbed in between his shoulder blades. “You were talking in your sleep. You okay?”

“Mhm.” Brendon sighed, stretching his arm out with a sigh. “I had a nightmare. I was in some strange juvenile center but it was just my house, and there were people I know there too and I was trying to decide whether I wanted to stay there or go to legit prison. Worst part is that I don’t even know what I did.” Brendon peeked up at him, bags under his eyes and exhaustion elucidated. “Psychoanalyze me?”

“You feel trapped. Even your safe places are scary to you now.” Dallon suggested, brushing hair off of Brendon’s forehead, and he hit it right on the nose. He always did.

“I don’t know what to do.” He whispered when Dallon’s hand guided him closer, getting his head on his shoulder.

Well,” Dallon rested his chin on the top of his head, “I think talking about it is a start.”

Brendon groaned, burying his face in the crook of Dallon’s neck. He didn’t know how to talk about it. He didn’t know how to not talk about it, either. He was just so sick of bottling things up. Dallon tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, brushing gently but not saying a word because he didn’t know what to say either, and Brendon wanted to figure out how to fill such a silence that seemed to linger everywhere these days. He just felt like no matter what he said, it wouldn’t reach anybody. He felt useless. Invisible.

At school, Brendon Urie was not invisible. He was someone everyone loved to hate, a could be hero of a Hemingway classic if he had half the ambition his parents did. He was notorious for being one of the only out gay boys in his graduating class, and for the way he looked and dressed, and then for being drugged at a crowded Halloween party and finally, for getting a handjob in the school bathroom by a boy who wasn’t his boyfriend.

These were things that people spoke about Brendon Urie in the halls when they didn’t really know him. They were falsities, fiction, phrases formed around a boy who didn’t deserve them. But they were words that Brendon tried not to hear, as he shielded himself from angered gazes in the halls and problems he didn’t know how to solve.

Ryan’s footsteps created a path for Brendon’s as he followed him to the bathroom, still wary after everything though his teachers had heard what had happened and always made sure someone went with him to the bathroom. Humiliating as it was, it was supposed to make him feel safe. Brendon wasn’t sure how much he really could these days, but he guessed it was the thought that counted.

Brendon forced a smile as Ryan leaned against the sink, waiting for him to pee so they could head back to astronomy. It was an apology in one way or another, sorry for making you walk up and down four flights of stairs, sorry I’m too scared to go to the bathroom alone, sorry you have to babysit me. But Ryan didn’t mind, it got him out of a boring lecture, and he took Brendon’s bag for him when he went into the stall.

And there, written on the bathroom wall, were the words in black sharpie: Brendon Urie is a slut.

“Ryan.” He said, backing away like it were on fire, holding a hand over his mouth. He turned and fumbled with the door, tears blurring his vision, and Ryan stood up from where he was leaning against the sink.

With a shaking hand, Brendon pointed into the stall, making Ryan squint as he went to read it, and there was more, there was so much more, and Brendon never wanted to be another statistic. Another victim. He was reduced to words on a bathroom wall, faggot, slut, liar, and it felt irreparable, suddenly. Like he couldn’t fix it, but he didn’t even know where he’d begin to start.

“Fuck.” Ryan hissed, turning to grab his backpack. “What the fuck.” He muttered to himself, digging through it hastily, and only when he pulled out a sharpie did he uncap it and begin to cross everything out. He wasn’t the only one, there were other names and accusations, slurs, some he recognized and some he didn’t.

Brendon sobbed into his hand while Ryan crossed everything out fervently, scribbling until there was nothing left. He was breathing heavy when he dropped his marker back in the bag and went to pull Brendon into a hug. Brendon hugged back, buried his face into his shoulder, shook with sobs as Ryan helped him to the ground.

“Why does everyone hate me?” He cried, hands trembling, feeling like he was going to throw up. Ryan shook his head and closed his eyes, running a hand down the back of Brendon’s head and holding him close.

“I don’t know, Brendon,” Ryan whispered, because it was true, everybody hated him, and it was unfair, it was inexplicable, but it was the truth. “I really don’t know.”

Brendon sniffled and wiped at his eyes, trying to calm down as the bathroom door opened and Ryan told whoever it was to get out. Brendon buried his head in his shoulder to hide, he couldn’t be labeled as a crybaby too, he was already a slut and a faggot and a liar. But he wasn’t lying. He swore he wasn’t lying.

Ryan shifted to sit beside him, criss-crossing his legs while Brendon sat with his own pulled to his chest, cheeks still wet with tears. He never wanted to go back to class. He didn’t want to be in this bathroom either, but he had to pick and choose. Right now, he just wanted to cry.

“You can go back to class, if you want.” Brendon offered, pushing his fist up under his glasses before he pulled them off and shoved them in his hoodie pocket.

“No, it’s okay. I wanna stay with you.” He shrugged and Brendon nodded, didn’t argue because he really needed someone right now. “I know what it’s like to be lonely after something like this happens, Brendon.”

Brendon peeked up at him, sniffling innocuously. “What, being called a slut and a faggot on the bathroom walls?”

“No, um.” He looked away, swallowed thickly, and Brendon shifted to watch his jaw clench like he were about to punch a wall before he calmed down again, almost like it had never happened. “Look, if I tell you something, do you promise not to ever tell anybody? Ever?”

Brendon nodded, masking the worry in his eyes though Ryan could see it clearly anyway. “Of course.”

“I’m serious, Bren. The only people in the world that know this are my parents, Dallon’s parents, and Dallon and Josh.”

“Yeah, I promise.” Brendon linked their pinkies together, scared now.

“Um.” He played with his hands, avoiding eye contact though Brendon wasn’t fishing for it anyway. “When I was a kid, my mom worked a lot. Like, she was a nurse, so she had a lot of hours. This was when my dad was still living with us. And this one night, when I was twelve, my brother was spending the night with his girlfriend. And my sisters... my youngest sister had this birthday slumber party thing for some girl in her class. And my other sister was with her friend. And I knew I should have gotten out of the house, I just... I hated being home alone with my dad.”

“Why didn’t you go to Dallon or Josh’s?”

“I was grounded. I stayed out past curfew, Josh and I snuck into this R-rated movie and my mom caught me sneaking back in after midnight. Dallon never did that with us. He was too scared. He respected his parents too much to lie to them. That was before everything.” He looked down at his lap. “My dad always had women coming and going. It’s like... he always accused my mom of cheating when she wasn’t, but he was. He was a fucking hypocrite.”

Brendon wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Did she know?”

“I think so. I think that there were a lot of things she knew but never confronted. She was in love with him, through and through, but... she was in denial. And anyway, it was a fucking dollhouse. Everyone thought we were perfect but no one actually understood the fact that we were so fucked up. And I couldn’t be the one to ruin the image. They’d all hate me. I couldn’t.”

Brendon turned his body in his direction just the slightest. “What do you mean?”

“Um..." Ryan ran his hands over his thighs, creating friction just to warm them. “My dad had this girlfriend. Or... I don’t know. This woman who snuck in on nights my mom wasn’t home. An alcoholic, probably, most of the people he knew were. I always pretended to be oblivious to it, I ran into her on the way to the bathroom and when she was sneaking out in the mornings before my mom got home, but... I never really talked to her. She just drank with my dad and then they did whatever they did and she left. I never told my mom because I knew hearing it from me would mean she had to confront it, and at the time I was scared of ruining her.”

Brendon furrowed his eyebrows and wiped under his eyes aimlessly. “It wouldn’t have been your fault, though.” He reasoned.

“I know. But when you’re twelve you think everything is your fault. And I did. For a long, long time. And it was like... it was that one night. Where all my siblings were out of the house. And I was grounded, my mom was nice about it but she didn’t want me leaving the house. She was adamant about that. She didn’t know how bad my father was to me. And he had that woman over. And she was drinking with him, like they always did, but at some point when I was almost asleep, it took a while because of all the noise, but... I was almost asleep. And she came into my room.”

Ryan stopped, and Brendon sat up, listening to his tremulous intake of breath as he looked away and took a second. Brendon let him. He found his hand shaking again, they always did when he was anxious, and without thinking he went to hold both of Ryan’s hands with one of his, resting them in Ryan’s lap without bothering to ask. Ryan squeezed his hand like a stress ball and nodded slowly to himself.

“She came into my room. And she was drunk, and she said that I looked just like my dad, except younger. Better. And... I’m not gonna give you the details, cause I’ve tried so fucking hard to forget them, but...” He took in a shuddering breath and more tears slid down Brendon’s cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t need to hear it to know. “They all say that women can’t rape. They can. That’s what Dallon’s dad told me when I went to him for help. That people never believe it but that didn’t make it untrue. Because I thought that it invalidated me.”

“Oh my god,” Brendon whispered, digging his nails into Ryan’s hand.

“I haven’t talked about this in years, Brendon. I need you to know that. Dal’s parents talked to the police, had her arrested, but nothing happened to my dad because he didn’t know. It was fucked up. And my mom didn’t blame him, either. It was just... unfair. I went to Dallon after it happened. Because I was scared, and for a while I wouldn’t go home. I slept in his bed, and I cried out all my tears, and then I let myself forget it. Moved on and avoided it as much as possible. Because for people like me that’s what you have to do.”

“I’m so sorry,” Brendon cried, turning to rest his legs on Ryan’s and nuzzling his head in his shoulder. “That’s horrible. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Thank you.” Ryan nodded, but didn’t tell him it was okay because it wasn’t. There were some things that just weren’t. “I’m sorry for you too.”

Brendon sniffled. “I hate being a victim.”

“Me too.” He whispered, wrapping an arm around him and holding his head close. “I do too, Bren. But you don’t have to be ashamed of it, and you’re allowed to be angry, and you can cry and scream and hate the world all you want because for a minute, it actually helps. Sometimes it’s just easier to be angry than to be forgiving.”

“I know.” Brendon agreed, because he was right, Brendon couldn’t find it in himself to forgive the world after it had done this. He just made his peace with the fact that he was going to be angry for the rest of his life. “Can we stay here?” He asked in a whisper, maybe just for the period, because he didn’t want to stay in the place where he lost his innocence forever.

“Yeah.” Ryan nodded, because all of a sudden astronomy seemed trivial. “Yeah, Bren, we can.”

Brendon sniffled, nodded, and leaned a head on his shoulder, staring at the scribbles covering words that he couldn’t black out in his memory. And he squeezed his eyes shut instead, because he didn’t want to see it. He didn't know how to unsee it.

* * *

Brendon held on tight to the strap of his backpack as he walked down the front steps, looking around and squinting through his glasses until he found Dallon heading toward his car. It had been a long day, too long, like one of those days that never seemed to end. He just wanted it to end.

“Boyfriend.” Brendon caught up to him in the parking lot with a jog, his smile half strained but trying.

“Hey! How are ya, Urie?” Dallon greeted when Brendon took his hands, leading him the rest of the way to Dallon’s car, freshly cleaned and sparkling almost like it were a good omen if he believed in those anymore.

“Oh, I’m alive. That’s something.” He forced a smile and Dallon grinned back, because it meant more to him than it did Brendon, and Dallon opened the passenger seat door for him. Brendon slid in, and he felt comfortable in Dallon’s car, like it were another home, like it kept him safe, and it did, and Brendon buckled himself in because no one could hurt him in here.

Dallon was quiet as he buckled himself in too, going through the motions of digging his keys out of the side pocket of his backpack and sticking them in the ignition. Brendon watched, the little leather turtle from New York and a few charms from Utah, a gold key and a silver one, and the one for his car. How they jingled quietly when he turned the car on, the engine humming to life.

“People write things about me. On the bathroom walls.” Brendon said suddenly, playing with his seatbelt awkwardly and trying to find the right words to add. But he couldn’t, so he didn’t. There was nothing else to say about it.

Dallon looked at him, eyes wide. Eyes that had seen so much, everyone they loved get hurt, things torn away from them, eyes that belonged to someone Brendon admired for his strength. He shouldn’t be telling him, but he promised he’d be honest. “What?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged like it was nothing, though it wasn’t. “Like that I’m a slut and a faggot and shit. I saw it today during astronomy.”

Dallon’s eyes softened and he reached out to run his hand down Brendon’s thigh. “Brendon.” He said sympathetically, eyes glistening in the way that they did, and Brendon always caught it. He hated that. The guileless eyes, the way he looked at him with pity though Brendon knew that wasn’t what it was. He hated worrying Dallon, because sometimes he wasn’t worth worrying about.

“Don’t worry, Ryan crossed everything out. He comes with me to the bathroom in astronomy cause I’m too scared to go alone now.” He assured, and Dallon looked skeptical because it was something Brendon would typically react to. And he did, and he would, just not when Dallon was there. He had to be alone to cry over it.

Dallon shook his head, disappointed and disgusted. “I’m sorry, baby. If I had known-“

“It’s okay, really. I’m okay.” Brendon pat his arm. Dallon sighed again, didn’t believe it but said nothing. Brendon picked and chose what to feel in front of him and there was nothing he could do about that. “He, uh. He told me. About what happened to him when he was a kid.” He added suddenly. Dallon looked at him, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, and Brendon looked away from his eyes, looked at the polaroid of Dallon’s friends stuck to his dashboard instead. “That he was raped.”

“Oh.” Dallon sounded surprised, but hid it behind a nod. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Brendon looked down at his lap, picking at his nail polish.

“I can’t believe he told you that,” Dallon added, eyebrows furrowed like he was calculating something. Brendon nodded, fingernails tracing the grooves of the seatbelt before he started to feel constricted and pulled it behind him. “Are you... like, okay?”

“I mean, as okay as I can be. Kind of shaken up and surprised and sad but... I don't know. I’m glad he told me. And stuck up for me, in a way. I wouldn’t know what to do. I can’t believe people still write things on the bathroom walls as if they’re in middle school. It’s pathetic.” He snapped, anger flashing through his disappointment. And he could be as angry as he wanted, whine and complain and rant, but it wouldn’t change anything. He just didn’t know what else to do anymore.

Dallon nodded, patting Brendon’s thigh like he didn’t quite know either. “I know, B. It is.”

“But whatever,” Brendon added, trying to pretend like he didn’t care because that was easier than letting it consume all of him. He couldn’t get wound up and fixated on faceless strangers. He had enough to worry about. “It’s their problem. Not mine. I don't care.”

It is yours, Dallon thought, and mine, ours, and we have the right to be angry. But he nodded, let Brendon think what he wanted to think, and that was probably a good idea. Not getting him riled up because Brendon was already mad, he was just more used to it.

But still, even when he watched Brendon quietly from across the room as he filled out his homework, Dallon couldn’t help but choke back tears.

Dallon: thank you.

Ryan: you’re welcome.

* * *

Tired eyes dulled with the artificial lighting of the school library as Brendon sketched out a draft of the journal he had to write for English. He was finding himself in the library more often these days, spending his study hall actually studying while Dallon worked on the mural because he had to get his priorities straight eventually. There were six months until graduation. Six months until he could breathe.

“Hey.” A quiet voice made Brendon look up from his notebook and at Tyler, who gave him this pity smile. Brendon knew that smile. That I don’t blame you for what you have to do smile. But they hadn’t seen each other much, had barely even talked, and Brendon wasn’t trying to pull away. It was just easier.

“Hi.” He closed his notebook over his pen, and Tyler took a seat at his round little table, tucked in the corner of the library where people never knew to look. “Don’t you have class?”

“Yeah, I told my math teacher I was going to the nurse for a headache. I have a few minutes. I just wanted to talk to you. I don’t know how else to get you.” He said, and Brendon hadn’t even realized how impossible to reach he’d been. Was he that bad? He kind of just stopped answering the phone.

“Yeah.” He agreed, because he wasn’t going to deny it. He’d been kind of unreachable lately.

“I miss you, Bren,” Tyler added quietly, and Brendon looked down, felt guilty though he had a reason to pull away. “And I get why you don’t want to talk right now. And I know I’ve been pushing you. But you’re my best friend, and I just... fuck, I don’t wanna be that friend that gets jealous of your boyfriend but I hate that I’m not who you go to now.”

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” Brendon whispered, trying to bite back tears because he hadn’t even realized. He was just growing into new habits. “It’s just... things are different now. You and I are different. You have Josh, and I have Dallon, and it’s different. Dallon knows me in a different way than you do.”

“I know, and I get that,” Tyler promised, but Brendon still didn’t feel any less horrible and self-conscious and guilty. “And I’m glad you have him. I really am. I just feel like you... resent me.”

“What?” Brendon tilted his head, and he didn’t understand. If anything, everyone should be resenting him. He was the one at fault for everything. “Why would I resent you? I could never resent you.”

“Because I didn’t do more on Halloween.” He said desperately, and everybody blamed themselves for that night but Brendon was the one to blame. Or maybe that was Shane, or the people who created the drug that had been slipped in his drink, or whoever threw the party, there were a million ways it could go but he didn’t want to blame anyone. He just wanted to go back in time and stay home. “I didn’t help. I didn’t, like, take you to the hospital, or call someone, and you didn’t come to me when you were assaulted, which is a stupid thing to be upset about but I want to be able to help you, and I just— I’ve spent almost my whole life with you being scared so I know what to do.”

“Ty.” Brendon reached out to pull him into a hug, shocked. “No. I don’t resent you. And I didn’t come to you because I was ashamed. And horrified. And I just... I don’t wanna have to explain myself to you right now. I told my boyfriend because I thought I cheated on him. It has nothing to do with you. And I know you take these things to heart but you shouldn’t. You’re still my best friend. I still want you to know everything that’s going on with me. Things are just a little different now.”

“I know.” Tyler pulled away, guilt written all over his face. “I know. And I’m sorry, I don’t wanna make things harder, but-“

“But you’re worried things have changed too much. I know.” And he did. He’d been thinking that too. At first it was just because he was busy, and then all of a sudden it wasn’t. Things changed. He didn’t know why but he let them. “We’ve been friends for a long time. I don’t think our friendship is always gonna be the exact way it was forever.”

“As long as we’re still friends, Brendon.”

“Of course we’re still friends.” Brendon stuck his pinky out and Tyler nodded, sniffling, and linked his own with Brendon’s. “I’m just a little different now. I don’t love you any less, though. But I’ve been trying to figure out how to make myself okay again. I’m trying to get back to where I was before.”

“I get it.” Tyler nodded, and Brendon hoped he would, and he got up from where he stole the seat and smiled forcibly. “I’m gonna let you do your work but let’s talk later, Bren, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. We will. I promise.” He crossed his heart, because that sounded good, that sounded perfect, and they exchanged nods as Tyler left the library and Brendon sat back in his seat, tears in his eyes, because he wasn’t sure he could really go back to where he had been. Because he couldn’t figure out how to make things right when they were already so wrong.

* * *

Things were gearing up to be harder than Brendon had ever expected, as the forward motion of his life had been put on hold and anxiety had taken its place. For days he moved like a ghost, living but not really living, just aching to feel something other than depletion or numbness or painstaking sadness. He wanted to laugh again, he wanted to smile, he wanted to cry over something good. But at this point he was starting to think that he was out of tears, and he was out of emotions. And, well, his limbic system certainly wasn’t doing him any favors.

It felt like he’d never be happy again. He lived and breathed anxiety, his stomach churned with consternation and his heart was beating way too fast for way too long. He found himself being frightened way too easily, he was prone to disaster. And despite the fact that his doctor had given him the hurricane and flood warnings in the form of doctor’s appointments and little white pills, Brendon tried to ignore the warning signs. Flashing lights in his brain meant nothing to him, dragging his feet pulled the exhaustion of the city into his home until suddenly he couldn’t keep his eyes open, but somehow he couldn’t sleep. After only a few weeks, well, the little white pills weren’t totally balanced out.

Brendon really thought he was okay. He thought that when his doctor told him that he had clinical depression that he would be fine. It was a mental illness. It wasn’t like it was cancer or something. It was in his head. Maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe he just needed to cope and his brain formed a shell around it to protect him. Maybe he was sick of coming up with theories.

Friday rolled around and Brendon rejected any plans anyone tried to make. Everyone could get along just fine without him. He wanted to rest, did his homework and cleaned up his room a little, made his life feel less cluttered. Dallon had promised that it would trick his mind into thinking it was clean too. And maybe it worked, or maybe it didn’t.

Brendon was laying in bed past midnight when he started thinking, but his thoughts weren't his. They were scary. Threatening. He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled his knees up to his chest under the covers and reached out for one of his pillows to hug tight. Why was he like this? Why was he thinking these things? He didn't actually believe them, did he?

Overwhelmed, Brendon jumped up from bed, didn't bother changing out of his sweatpants or sweatshirt, his fuzzy socks, just gathered his things and pocketed them as he darted out of his room, the light of the moon reflecting in the hall. He crept into the kitchen, footsteps muted by his socks, and found a piece of paper and a pen in the junk drawer.

Bad night, went to Dallon's, call in morning -B

He dropped the note on the kitchen table and went to slip on his boots before he disappeared out the door that led to outside, and eventually, he was catching one of the midnight buses in the direction of Dallon's apartment. He took a seat in the back and shook his leg rapidly, trying not to think. He wanted to stop being so apathetic but this wasn’t what he had in mind.

Hopping off the bus, he sprinted toward Dallon’s building, only having to wait a minute in the cold before someone let him in, a night dweller always spending time in the lobby. He thanked her and she didn’t mention his tears, only nodded and smiled warmly at him until he was alone in the elevator. His breathing was labored, his chest ached, and he leaned against the wall, clamping a hand over his mouth to muffle a sob. It was the middle of the night. He was supposed to be asleep. Happily asleep, dreaming happy things. He wasn’t supposed to be having a mental breakdown in his boyfriend’s apartment building’s elevator.

The spare key was hidden in the wreath on the front door of the Weekes’ apartment. Brendon was there when he put it up. He dug it out and stuck it in the lock, it wasn’t breaking in if it was his boyfriend, and quietly slid into the apartment. It was dark, silent, and there weren’t many times that he had seen Dallon’s apartment so lonely. It was peaceful, in a way, but daunting, too.

He closed the door slowly behind him until the lock clicked and toed off his boots before he crept down the hall to Dallon’s room, past his mother’s closed door, praying he wasn’t making a sound. And knowing Dallon he would be awake, he always was, doing something like writing or drawing or watching Netflix against his better judgment. But when Brendon pushed his door open he was fast asleep on his side, fist pushed cutely against his nose and his bangs in his eyes, unlike the way he always wore it. Brendon felt bad, didn’t want to wake him, because Dallon wasn’t always at peace like this. It was like a different world, Dallon’s home without Brendon in it. He didn’t like it.

Tears sliding down his cheeks, he reached out to shake Dallon’s arm, needed him more than Dallon needed sleep. "Dallon. Dal.”

It took another shake or two before Dallon jerked awake. And Brendon didn’t really think about how a person standing in the pitch black of his room in the middle of the night must had seemed, because Dallon looked like he was about to scream before he realized it was a trembling Brendon.

He sighed, pushed unkempt hair out of his eyes, squinted through the dark without his glasses. "Jesus Christ, Bren, what are you doing here? It's," Dallon glanced at the clock on his side table, "almost one in the morning."

"I know. I'm sorry.” He put his hands out apologetically, guilty for scaring him. “I was trying to sleep but I started having these really bad thoughts but not on purpose and they were freaking me out and I thought I might do something stupid and I'm really scared." He choked out, trying to whisper but too hysterical. Recognition flickered in Dallon’s eyes as he climbed out of bed, almost tripping on his blanket, and enveloped his boyfriend in a hug.

"Invasive thoughts," Dallon said into the hair on the side of his head when Brendon hugged his body tight, squeezing out his tension through Dallon because he couldn’t scream and he couldn’t find how else to get it out. "I have those too, sometimes."

Tears slipped down pale cheeks. "What do you do?" He asked like he was begging, because it was so impossible. Trying to find answers when there weren’t any. Trying to solve problems when they were invisible to the rest of the world.

"There's nothing you can do. Just hope they go away." Dallon pulled away to kiss his forehead, right above where his eyebrows knit together. "Listen. They're just thoughts, okay? They're only thoughts. It's not what you really think. The human mind has between sixty and eighty thousand thoughts a day. Do you act on that many thoughts a day?" Sniffling, Brendon shook his head. "Right. You're gonna be fine. They're just thoughts. Stay here tonight, okay? Stay as long as you need."

Brendon wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands. "I would've stayed either way." He admitted, tense under his gaze.

Dallon let out a quiet laugh and climbed into bed, leaving some space for a trembling boy who was sliding into a bed he always felt safer in, somehow. He didn’t know if it was because he was cold or scared but he was shaking, his hands uncoordinated as they pulled up the covers. He hooked a leg over Dallon’s under the duvet, burrowed into his chest, left no room between them because he didn’t want anything to get in the way. "Do you wanna talk about it?" Dallon asked suddenly, brushing a steady hand through angel wing hair.

Brendon swallowed thickly. There was so much going through his mind, how could he even begin to talk about it all? How could he put this into words? "I don't even know where to start."

Dallon reached up to press his fingertips against the side of his face gently. Brendon leaned into them, his touch was the only source of warmth he had, and Dallon’s feather light voice came to him in a whisper. "Just say what's bothering you."

Brendon shook his head, couldn’t even figure it out. "There's just so much fucking wrong in the world.” He tried, not articulating it well enough though Dallon understood it so deeply that he didn’t even need to. “Like this, why does this happen?"

"Why does what happen?" Dallon traced a finger over his jaw carefully, like he’d crack if he wasn’t watchful.

"I don't know. Depression. Anxiety. Invasive thoughts, wanting to kill yourself, all of it. Why does it all happen? How can you have hope in anything when there are good people suffering from this— this shit all the time?" He tried, not eloquent enough though Dallon shrugged, burying his face further into his hair.

"It doesn't affect all people, Bren.” He said, and the truth hit him so hard that it stung. He was stuck all of a sudden, wondering why he even bothered being so scared when no one would help him. Thinking things weren’t forever when they were. “So these people, these healthy people, they don't pay any mind to whatever wrong is happening in our lives. People like to shut mental illness out until they can find a way to make it about them." He reminded him, whispering about the world’s civil wrongs until it all made sense to him in a way that nothing made sense in the light of day.

Dallon was right. He hated that about the human race. People only cared about themselves. And the truth was, if you were struggling from some disease, one so deep in your mind you couldn't tell from the outside that your soul is deteriorating and atrophying and gone, so, so close to gone, well, no one would care until you die. Of suicide, probably, of slitting your wrists or throat or heart with a knife if you were to be so brave. Of downing a bunch of pills or drowning yourself in the public pool at midnight or suffocating yourself because you can’t breathe anyway. And then it would all get worse, because people you called your enemies; or people you'd never spoken to; or people you’d only ever spoken to once will talk about how much they loved you, how you'll be missed.

And it just never made sense, how someone you weren't friendly with or close to could pretend like they knew you, all because you're dead from suicide. It was like having a suicidal friend was the newest trend, but who wanted to live in a world where that made sense? How could somebody dream of being the best friend of a dead boy? Were false exclamations of I’ll miss you a code to self-worth? Maybe there was an underlying reason for it all. Maybe it was all just a game.

"Is everyone just pretending to be fine?” Brendon asked in fear, voice choked up in the dark. “Is everyone secretly miserable?"

Dallon took a long second to answer because there was no answer. How did you answer to that? Brendon was so fragile and Dallon was trying to figure this all out too, nothing made sense anymore and everything was flipped. How could they equate their feelings to the rest of the world's? Secret misery loved company. It loved it so goddamn much. Slowly, Dallon ran a hand down Brendon's arm and then leaned in, cheek against the top of his head.

"I don't know, Bren, I really don’t.” He admitted, and the truth felt too raw and caught in his throat. “I think that people are like words, or songs, or art, they're all different and they're progressing and they change, and sometimes not for the better. But each one is unique, and none are exactly the same. And some are nicer than others. And some have some deeper underlying purpose or meaning or something, and some just seem to be for show. And some are happy, and angry, and sad, and there are too many feelings and ways of life and people, for that matter, for everybody to be feeling one thing. But I can tell you that personally, I understand. Because sometimes I am miserable. And sometimes I pretend to be fine. And I don't know if that's a mental illness thing, or if it’s me, or if it’s us, if we’re special or nothing about us is. And so I don't know what to say to you. Maybe everyone's miserable, and maybe they're pretending to be okay for everyone else, or because they want to look fine, or maybe everything in life is a game but we're all losing. I really don't know, Brendon, but I wish I did, because if knowing is gonna make you feel better, then I wanna be the one to make that happen."

Brendon dipped his head and buried his face in Dallon's chest, gripping the sides of his sweatshirt in his fingers and feeling thick material and breathing, because he wasn’t dead yet, and he wasn’t totally lost. He didn’t have to be. And he could hear Dallon's heartbeat in the quiescent room that calmed his nerves with one look, and he could look up and see glow in the dark stars and keep wishing like Dallon had his whole life. “Thank you for being here for me."

Dallon's hand found the back of Brendon's head and carded fingers through his hair gingerly, holding him close and carefully like he would scratch him or break him like a perfect porcelain doll, still in the box and brand new. Beautiful to the eyes but fragile, not unlike the precious baby Urie. "I love you, honey. And I'll always be here for you. Even when you sneak into my house at one a.m. and make me think I’m being robbed or murdered or both."

Brendon mustered up a laugh and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to be a porcelain doll anymore, he just wanted to be. Things were so much easier when he didn’t think about them. Now everything was different, harder, and Brendon was stuck on automatic, trying to function as normally as he could with the world weighing him down. It was no way to live. "Yeah. I'm sorry, I— I didn't wanna be alone. It's just... these fucking thoughts. I feel like they don't even belong to me. They’re just like, climbing into my body and using me as a host and I don’t know how to stop them. It’s like they’re controlling me now and... I’m really scared, Dallon.”

Dallon frowned and slid his hand up to cup the side of Brendon’s face, fingertips in the messy tufts of his hair on the side of his head, watching his mind race because it was loud enough to hear. "If you don't wanna tell me, baby, you don't have to, but what were they?"

Brendon shook his head, traumatized, and tucked himself further against Dallon’s chest. "Just stuff that I shouldn't have been thinking. Like about hurting myself and the people I love. Violent stuff. And I’ve never thought any of that before, you know? It kind of came out of nowhere."

Dallon pulled him closer and planted a kiss on the top of his head, holding him tighter. His Brendon, he didn’t deserve it. Invasive thoughts crawl into you when you aren’t expecting it and they’re hard to deal with but for someone like Brendon, they were even scarier. Someone small and guileless and unbeknownst to the world, he had so much to learn and not all of it was good. "You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

He shook his head again and tightened his fingers in the fabric of Dallon’s shirt. "No, I came here instead. It's one of those times where I need you to save me."

"Well," Dallon tilted his head down to bump his nose against Brendon's, and when the latter lifted his chin to peek up at him he stole a kiss from his lips. "I'll save you, and you save me."

In spite of himself, Brendon smiled. He could stand to stop being stubborn for a night. "Sounds like a deal." He agreed, and linked his pinky with Dallon’s.

Brendon almost had a heart attack when he woke up in Dallon’s bed after having gone to sleep in his own until he remembered. Dallon was still fast asleep on the other side of the bed and Brendon watched him for a second, praying for him, or maybe himself, though his relationship with God was muddled and he wasn’t sure he would listen anymore. Brendon climbed out of bed and left the room, socked feet padding against the cold floor, to raid the kitchen and find something for breakfast.

He didn’t want to go home. That was where all the monsters were.

Dallon’s mother was standing at the stove when Brendon crept into the kitchen, making her turn to greet her son but stop short when she saw it wasn’t him. Confused, she said, “You weren’t here when I went to bed.”

Brendon tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I let myself in last night. I was having this really bad mental health thing and I needed to talk to Dallon.”

“Oh.” She looked surprised, though Dallon had to have told her about how bad Brendon had been lately. “That’s okay, baby. Are you feeling any better?” She nodded her head toward the table and he climbed into a seat, resting his chin in his hand because he didn’t sleep well.

“A little. Not a lot. I’m getting there.”

“Hm. Well, one day at a time, I guess. There are good and bad days.” She said, flipping a pancake, and he could see Dallon in her, in her dialect.

“Yeah.” He sighed, and he had been learning that a lot lately. “It just seems like this past month, I’ve just had a bunch of really, really, really bad days. And no good ones.” He started thumbing his shirt sleeve aimlessly, wishing he could articulate better because he couldn’t get help unless he knew how to ask for it.

“Well, hang in there, Bren. I know this is cliché but it’ll get better.” She promised. It was a cliché, it was overused to the point of disgust, and the words made Brendon want to vomit up all of his organs and cave in on himself. But he believed it. He had to believe it. How would he do this without it?

Back at home Brendon laid in bed mindlessly, or rather trying to be mindless, as sleep lingered in his eyes but he couldn’t. His body wouldn’t let him. He was scared of the nightmares. He stared at the ceiling, at the dinosaur holding a cake, until his door cracked open and made him turn his head just the slightest.

“Are you trying to sleep, little one?” Kara asked quietly, but he shook his head. Sleep was a lost concept on him lately.

“No, just laying here, being bored. Come on in.” He nodded his head, so she slipped into the room and closed his door behind her. Placing a hand on her stomach, she laid down beside him when he scooted over for her. It was still so strange, her carrying a baby. Adding a new member to the family. Making her own family, he guessed.

Brendon was quiet for a minute, looking up at the dinosaur holding a cake pensively. He didn’t know what to say, after having spent the night tucked against Dallon’s side to stay away from hurting himself or someone he loved. He had to be physically restrained. How pathetic was he? Kara stared at the ceiling too, maybe she saw the dinosaur too, as she ran a hand up and down her stomach. There were only a few more months to go.

“There’s this picture of you and Kyla at Disneyland on the fridge downstairs. You know the one?” She brought up suddenly, and Brendon nodded. He and his sister were both wearing pirate eyepatches, holding swords, and he had a pair of bright green shorts on. He couldn’t be older than three or four. “That’s my favorite picture of you two. My best friends. I don’t know why; you just look so cute. Smiling so much, your eye squinting because you couldn’t comprehend the fact that just because the eyepatch covered one eye didn’t mean you had to close the other.” Yes, he had a hard time with that.

“I squint like that when I smile. My right eye more than the left. It bothers me a lot sometimes.” When all else failed, maybe he could claim that that was the reason he didn’t smile anymore. His eyes were weird and squinty and he simply didn’t like the way they looked.

“I think it’s cute. Distinctive.” She smiled, and Brendon wished he could smile back. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, wondered why he’d gotten the most fucked up genes. Late development, late puberty, a stupid smile and a weird squint, fucking depression. He was the runt of the litter. Kara ran her hand over her stomach once more, like she was always thinking about the baby, and said, “I was thinking Luca.”

Brendon dipped his head to look at her in confusion. “Huh?”

She smiled again, this time at Brendon. “For your nephew’s name. I’ve always liked Luca.”

Brendon’s eyes widened and he sat up in shock, staring back down at her as she giggled and sat up too. “It’s a boy?” He asked, and she nodded eagerly, smiling too much when Brendon pulled her into a hug. “Oh, wow. Wow.” His big sister was having a boy. A new baby Urie. Or maybe he would take Kara’s boyfriend’s last name. Brendon always had been and always would be baby Urie. “Fuck, that’s amazing, Kara. Do mama and daddy know yet?”

She shook her head when they separated from the hug, and she was secretly pleased to find that Brendon’s smile wasn’t fake. She knew when he needed it the most. “No, I’m gonna tell them tomorrow. I wanted to tell you first. You were the first to know about him, aside from Kyla. I figured you should be the first to know he’s a he.”

“Holy shit,” Brendon whispered, reaching out to place a hand on her stomach. In a few months, Brendon would be an uncle. There would be a baby around, for him to babysit and take pictures of and tear up at when he started crawling, walking, saying his first words. A brand-new person. “You’re still outnumbered.”

“Haha.” She rolled her eyes and smiled, watching her baby brother fuss over her stomach.

“God. It just hit me that like, there’s a literal person growing inside of you. How do you do anything when you’re this big? How do you sleep? It must be so uncomfortable. I mean, no offense. You look great like this. But... how?”

“Um, uncomfortably.” She laughed. He did too, because how could a world create things so bad and so wonderful all at once? Maybe he got the short end of the stick, but not everybody else did. “But it’s worth it. It’s gonna be worth it. I can tell.”

“I bet it will be.” Brendon nodded, feeling her stomach again in amazement. She was right, because everything had a result. Sometimes it was a really good one. Sometimes it wasn’t. That was why you had to wait. Because maybe one day, the wait would prove itself worth it.


	39. Chapter 38: And the World Kept Spinning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> YA'LL i completely forgot to update this!! Anyway I'm making Remedied into a real book! You can buy Volume 1 on Amazon if you'd like! I'm gonna try to post the rest of it here though, just so you can have the long Brallon version of it, since a lot of this I cut out in the new version!

“Kara’s having a boy,” Brendon told Dallon on Monday afternoon as Dallon drove him home from school, drumming absently on the steering wheel at a red light.

Dallon looked over at him and smiled, shocked, because in all the commotion he’d completely forgotten. “Oh, Bren, that’s amazing! I should congratulate her. She’s due soon, right? Not soon soon, but soon.”

“In March, yeah.” Brendon nodded, aimlessly reaching out to poke at the corner of the polaroid stuck to his dash. “I’m excited to meet him. I could use someone new in my life. Someone pure.”

“It’s gonna be good for you,” Dallon agreed, and as someone who worked with kids he would know. And like he’d said once upon a time, there was something sweeter about talking to children. Purer. Like they didn’t feel the need to censor anything. It was nicer, sometimes, than talking to the people around him. He didn’t have to worry about pity or sympathy. “I assume you’ll babysit once he’s here.”

“If she lets me. I’ve never really been around kids. Always the youngest, don’t see my younger cousins enough, you know.” He waved a hand.

“Yeah, same. Aside from the kids at volunteering. But you’ll be good at it.” Dallon assured him, and he was always so sure of Brendon. It was just hard to believe it when Brendon wasn’t sure of himself. “Besides, there’s only so much you can do to mess up a baby. You just sit there and show him stuffed animals and it’s the best day of his life. Play peekaboo and it’s like Christmas.”

“Hm,” Brendon nodded slowly, and Dallon guessed he just didn’t want to talk much today. He put on his blinker, and Brendon asked quietly as a second thought, though he'd been wondering all day, “do you think I’m a bad friend?”

“I don’t think that,” Dallon said honestly, but even if he thought so Brendon doubted he would tell him that. “Do you think that?”

“Yeah.” Brendon sighed, curling up in his seat and pouting like a child because that was what he did when his emotions became uncontrollable. He never wanted to blame himself. There was just no one else to blame this time around. “Tyler told me the other day that he thinks I resent him cause I don’t really talk to him anymore. And it’s not like I’m doing that on purpose or anything, it’s just that I’m like... tired. All the time. And I feel like I’m useless to talk to. I just don’t have that mental capacity to talk to people right now.”

“I understand that. You only have so much energy to put into other people. Especially when you’re trying to preserve some of it for yourself.” Dallon shrugged like it were easy math, but then again it must be for someone who had been learning the equation for years. “I don’t blame you for being more reserved.”

“I blame me.” He said, because it always felt like this stupid internal war of whose fault it was when Brendon fucked something else up. His relationship, his friendships, his grades, his own sanity because he was driving himself up the walls. He didn’t know who else to blame because it never felt right. He made all of his choices.

“I don’t,” Dallon repeated, and at that Brendon looked at him. “I just think you need to hear that. You might blame yourself but no one else blames you. At least not the people you should care about.”

“It’s just hard believing that when it feels so easy to doubt myself.”

“Yeah, well. Nothing worth it comes easy.” He nudged Brendon’s hand with his own and Brendon tried to take it to heart. He knew that was the truth. He knew it deep down in his chest and stomach and soul. He just couldn’t help but feel like there was no reason to risk it when in the long run he’d end up another speck of dust on the dash. “Don’t take things so seriously, Brendon. Give yourself a break. You’ll be okay. All the clichés that everyone has been telling you, but they’re from your loving boyfriend so they mean more.”

Brendon found it in him to smile, and he knew it meant more. Of course it did. Dallon didn’t say things like this to him when they weren’t true.

"They do." Brendon agreed, leaning his head back against the seat and trying to smile at him. "Even though they are still clichés."

Dallon laughed, and Brendon reached out to bump his fist against his arm. He didn't mind the clichés so much when he knew he was just trying to help.

* * *

Brendon was hoping that things wouldn’t change too much, but with the antidepressants interfering with his functioning and his inexplicable fear and guilt it was hard to let things stay the same. In fact, it hadn’t so much become a question of whether or not things were changing but instead had become a matter of how badly they were. He’d begun to live day to day with aching bones and no motivation. He didn’t remember when he went from crying every day to sleeping every day to walking like his soul had been sucked out of his body, but it was all blurring together and he was getting dizzy.

Ms. Rivas circled the room, passing out the class’s most recent tests as everyone made small talk before the bell rang. Dallon was busying himself in drawing some funny shaped animal on Melanie’s notebook, letting her add to it until their tests were dropped on their desks, and they both pushed them into their binders without a second glance.

And Brendon pulled his own closer, squinting under his glasses at the red x’s on almost every question on the first page of his test. He tilted it toward him so nobody would see, and up at the top by his name was a forty-two percent and a “see me after class”.

“Hey, I’ll catch up to you,” Brendon said quietly and Dallon nodded, disappearing into the hallway as Brendon grabbed his test from under his binder and hurried toward his teacher’s desk.

She looked at him with apology in her eyes and sighed, “Brendon.”

“I know.” He whined, throwing his head back in distress because he didn’t even know what happened. He just forgot to study, or maybe he just didn’t want to, he had been tired, his bed looked so inviting.

“What happened?” She asked, not upset, just worried, and by now the whole school knew that he was going through something. It was obvious. He shook his head and looked down at his dirty converse sneakers, trying to avoid letting any tears make their escape because he was humiliated enough.

“I just— I don’t know. I’ve been going through so much; I feel like I’m drowning and I can’t do anything about it. I keep trying to get everything I have to do done and it just... isn’t happening. It’s like I don’t have the energy anymore. It’s like my brain won’t even work.”

She examined the look on his face like he knew he was pathetic, because he was. He had no idea what the fuck was wrong with him. He could barely make himself hold a pencil, much less sit at his desk and focus long enough to retain any information from a study sheet or practice problems. “I understand, Brendon, you’re going through a lot. I know after difficult experiences we have trouble moving on, and I wish there was a way to help. I wish these weren’t the circumstances. I want to be here to support you. Which... which means I don’t want you to fail.”

He swallowed thickly, the words catching in his throat. Fail? “Is that a possibility?”

“Well...” She reached out to pull a folder toward her and flipped it open, revealing his papers and current transcript, and he looked at the mug of pens on her desk instead because he didn’t want to see how bad he was doing. “Yeah. This class is mandatory to graduate. You have a fifty-three in the class right now, anything under sixty is not a passing grade. If you keep doing work the way you’ve been doing, failing the tests and neglecting to turn in the homework, your current grade will fluctuate and drop. It’s still first semester, but second semester starts in January, and if you don’t put in at least some effort, you’ll fail and you won’t be able to graduate.”

Brendon wiped at his eyes to prevent tears, trying not to cry in front of his teacher though the word fail didn’t exactly make him confident. He knew he was doing bad. He knew. It was like that in every class. But this was math. Math was different. Math was harder than everything else. Brendon had never been good at math. He couldn’t repeat his senior year. This couldn’t have all been for nothing.

“What can I do?” He asked desperately, because once upon a time he’d promised not to be a complete fuckup. He wasn’t going to fail.

She sighed in thought, and Brendon waited nervously, picking at his nail beds because the polish had all come off. “You and Dallon are close friends, yes?”

He shifted his weight, and sometimes he still felt like a fourteen-year-old boy having to come out because he forgot that not everyone knew. “No. Well, yeah, I guess. I mean. Um, he’s my partner. My boyfriend.”

He was expecting some sort of comment or look of surprise but all she did was nod. “Okay. So you spend a lot of time together.” He nodded as well. “Alright, Brendon. If you wanna pass, then I’m gonna accept your missing homework assignments from now until break, show your work and answer the questions completely and you’ll get partial credit. I know it seems like a lot of work, especially before Christmas, but if you manage your time, you can do it. At least some of it. That’ll bring your grade up. As for tests, I’ll let you retake the past few ones that you did poorly on. And you need to have Dallon help you study, okay? We’ve got a difficult unit coming up. He’s got almost a perfect grade in this class. If he helps you with the classwork and study guides and review, then you should do better. And always come to me for help.”

Great. That was just what he needed: to have Dallon tutor him. Hey, boyfriend, it’s bad enough that I was drugged and assaulted and have crippling depression and anxiety, but I’m also stupid and you need to help me pass math because senior year and life itself is kicking my ass. “Okay. I will.” He promised. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course. I just want you to pass, Brendon.”

He forced a smile, but she had to have noticed the tears building up and threatening to fall. “I just want me to pass too.”

He was back home that afternoon, picking at the skin around his nails and wondering when he had let this go so far. Dallon sat across from him, scribbling something down in his notebook, and it was embarrassing, it was so fucking embarrassing. He didn’t want to ask. He wanted to be stubborn, study himself, say no to help, but at this point he had nothing left, so what was his pride even worth?

“Hey, Dal?” Brendon peeped from his bed, and Dallon didn’t glance up from his homework as he gave a half-hearted nod and jotted something down. “I’m failing stats and I need you to tutor me.” He started, and Dallon looked up at him, clicking his pen. “Like, serious tutoring. Like getting together for actual study sessions without making out or playing around or watching TV at the same time, because Ms. Rivas said that if I don’t get my grade up then I’m gonna fail and I-I won’t be able to graduate, and-“

“Brendon, calm down.” Dallon got up from the desk to join Brendon on his bed, reaching out a hand to place carefully on his knee. “I’ll do it, of course I will, but are you sure you want me to? I barely have any idea what I’m doing.”

“You know better than I do. And she told me to ask you for help. She said you have almost a perfect grade. You do, right?” He asked, and Dallon hesitated before he nodded. They hardly ever talked about their grades because Brendon hated to compare himself and he knew that he would. “Right. Of course you are. Because you’re perfect and I’m just doing so fucking bad. With everything, all the time, and I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like I physically can’t function correctly. I’m on the verge of failing every other class, and I don’t wanna have to repeat the year, it’s just gonna be the same shit over again and I can’t-”

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m gonna help.” He pulled Brendon into a hug and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, holding him tight because suddenly he was shaking. “I’m gonna help, baby. Anything you need.”

“Thank you.” Brendon reached up to grab onto his sweater and held him close, inhaling unsteadily through his nose. Dallon would help. Of course Dallon would help. The only problem was that Brendon didn’t know if he could handle that.

As Dallon pulled away from the hug cautiously, Brendon could feel himself shivering. He hadn’t meant to. “Is everything okay?” Dallon asked quietly, eyes focusing narrowly on Brendon’s when he looked away. Nothing was okay. Brendon was becoming painfully aware of that.

Brendon shook his head and sniffled, choking back tears so that Dallon wouldn’t see. “No. I’m anxious, and I’m tired, and I don’t have the capacity to do anything anymore. And I feel like I’m gonna throw up constantly, and I’m terrified all the time, and I’m a terrible boyfriend because I know you want the default I’m okay answer but I don’t know how to keep things from you. And I don’t know how to make things better. I just want things to go back to the way they were.”

Dallon tilted his head, didn’t know what to say because an apology didn’t seem to be enough and the truth ached in his stomach. “If only it were that simple.”

Brendon shook his head again, avoiding eye contact desperately while Dallon’s vision lingered on his features. “Just. You know what sucks? It sucks that a year ago I studied with you and I let you help me and you were my friend and I didn’t care that we did that together because that’s what friends do. They complain about how bad they’re doing together and they try to help each other. But now... now you’re my boyfriend and it’s so fucking humiliating that I have to ask for your help because I can’t do it myself. Because it’s different now. And I’m so fucking embarrassed.” He covered his face with his hands, palms against his burning, wet cheeks.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, Brendon. We’re partners. We help each other.” He scratched his ankle carefully, making Brendon peek up at him through his bangs. “I don’t want things to be different just because we’re in a relationship. That was never my intention. You’re still my best friend. You’re still the Brendon that you were before I asked you out. And listen, if you want, I won’t act like your boyfriend at all. When we’re studying together, we’re just friends. Study buddies. Like we used to be.”

“God, I’m so pathetic. My boyfriend has to pretend he’s not my boyfriend to save my fragile ego.” He groaned into his hands, but Dallon reached out to grab his wrists and pulled them away from his face.

“You’re not pathetic, Brendon, you’re human! Do you know how embarrassed I was when I told you about my eating issues? Or when you had to house me for days because I was too scared to go home and see my mom’s new boyfriend? Or every single time I’ve cried in front of you over something stupid in the past year? You’re allowed to be embarrassed in front of me by now but you shouldn’t be. C’mere.” He pulled Brendon into a hug and Brendon hugged back dejectedly, pressing his nose against his shoulder. “Depression is hard. I know because I have it. It messes with you in a lot of ways and... look, you’ve had a lot of issues with paying attention lately. If you can’t pay attention in school then that’s okay. You can work on it.”

Brendon buried his face in Dallon’s neck, eyes shut and lip quivering. A year ago he was sitting in this spot with Dallon, talking about their math homework and how Brendon was proud that he was starting to get it. Fast forward a year, and he was starting to think that he was just a lost cause. “I wish I could fall asleep and wake up to a few months ago.”

Dallon’s hand found the back of his head and began to card through his hair, soft and unwashed and messy. He closed his eyes, pressing his nose against Brendon’s temple, and he felt the cool metal of a nose ring like this sign of familiarity though everything was estranged.

“Let’s pretend for a little while, okay?” He pulled away slowly, like he were afraid Brendon would snap. But Brendon didn’t have the energy. He blinked slowly at his boyfriend in confusion, moving like he was submerged underwater. Delayed. Unintentional. Just... too enervated to care anymore. But there was Dallon, trying to be a lifeboat in the ocean that Brendon had feared for so long. “Let’s just pretend.” He shook his head softly, holding the sides of Brendon’s neck. “C’mere.”

Without an explanation Dallon pushed Brendon’s things to the floor and slid down against the mattress, tugging insistently on his arm. Brendon frowned to himself and let out a noise of distress, though Dallon paid no mind, only pulled him close and placed a hand on his shoulder to guide him down. Brendon squirmed around, trying to get comfortable, and fleetingly he wondered how long he could trick his body into sleeping.

Dallon pressed his chest against Brendon’s back, and Brendon whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t think about it. Just sleep.” Dallon instructed in a whisper, slipping a hand around Brendon’s waist to feel his warm skin under the hem of his shirt. Brendon steadily placed a hand over his, his back pressing against him, and as he let his eyes fall shut he could feel his breath on the back of his neck.

Brendon was losing pieces of himself, and he had long since realized it but he had been slowly shutting it out. His innocence, his motivation, his comfort. Pieces of him were vanishing and he was beginning to think that Brendon Urie was just a vestige of something that once was. A relic of the past.

As Dallon drifted off, Brendon turned underneath his arm to pull a still Dallon against his chest. He shifted, half asleep but conscious enough to comprehend that Brendon needed him closer, as he wiggled around to find comfort in the small boy’s arms. He made a little noise of content, one of those adorable sounds that Dallon made every time he was falling asleep, and Brendon wondered how he did it. Slept so peacefully, after everything.

Dallon buried his face in Brendon’s arm and nuzzled closer, one arm around him to keep them pressed together under the comforter. Brendon exhaled tremulously and rubbed mindlessly at Dallon’s arm, watching the room darken as the sky faded out the window. Dallon was warm, he was comfortable and warm and Brendon was starting to think that he’d never feel at peace again.

He squirmed restlessly for hours, letting out noises of discomfort through a nightmare and trying to claw his way out of it. But the wolves still caught him, and he could feel teeth tear into his flesh as if it were real. He could feel blood pour out of his veins and soak cold, pristine white snow. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t-

He jerked awake when someone knocked quietly on his open door. Out of breath from struggling, his eyes flickered from a sleeping Dallon curled up against his side to Kara standing at his door, worry clear in her eyes. “Are you okay?” Wordlessly, he shook his head, and almost like he could hear him Dallon tightened his grip on Brendon’s waist. “Well, dinner is here, if you wanna wake him up and come eat. We ordered pizza.”

“Yeah, okay. We’ll be down in a minute.” He whispered, bringing a hand up to touch soft locks of Dallon’s hair. His sister nodded and disappeared, so he turned under Dallon’s arm, reached out to bump their noses together. “Hey, sunshine, wake up.”

“Mm,” Dallon grunted, burying his face in the crook of Brendon’s shoulder, and he placed a hand on the back of Dallon’s head, stroked gently because he didn’t even really want to wake him. It wasn’t often that Dallon looked so completely at peace.

“God, I love you,” Brendon whispered, more to himself than anything, because sometimes it hit him. That he wouldn’t be him without Dallon. He probably wouldn’t be alive without Dallon, either. He tightened his fingers in his hair, breathing steady, and Dallon stirred, sniffled, pulled away to catch sight of big, sleepy brown eyes. “Hi.” He hummed, and Dallon let out a dazed mewl. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm.” He pulled away in a stretch, bringing a hand to Brendon’s face to trace his jawline tiredly. “You didn’t. I could feel your consciousness. It’s disconcerting.”

“Don’t worry about me. It’s just dumb nightmares.” Brendon waved him off but Dallon shook his head, pulled him in closer with an arm looped around his waist and rested his forehead against Brendon’s. “Hey, c’mon. Let’s go eat. My parents ordered pizza. We can talk about this later.”

“Sure.” He agreed quietly, breath warm on Brendon’s lips. “But first, you have to promise me you won’t shut me out. You can’t shut me out.” And Brendon hesitated before he linked their pinkies together, because Brendon knew what being shut out was like and he didn’t want that. He wanted to talk about things. He just didn’t know where to start.

“I promise.” Brendon nodded, and their lips met transiently before Brendon pulled away and cupped his cheek, more appreciative than Dallon would ever know. This was the only good thing he had. He wasn’t going to ruin this too. “You know, we can’t nap every time we have a bad day.”

“It’s called expertly avoiding your problems.” Dallon poked his cheek and got up, leaving a tiny smile on Brendon’s face when he started out of the room because even when nothing made sense, he and Dallon did. Brendon sat on the edge of his bed, taking a deep breath because he could, and Dallon poked his head into the room again. “C’mon, dork, I’m gonna eat all the pizza.”

Brendon rolled his eyes, but jumped up to follow him down the stairs, and he was just going to take it one day at a time.

* * *

“Hey, Brendon?” Dallon said cautiously the next day as Brendon laid in his bed, working on one of his missing homework assignments as in the next week he’d have to do about a dozen. He barely looked up, nodding to tell him he was listening. “You’re not a bad boyfriend.”

Brendon stopped what he was doing, looking up to see Dallon staring at him from his desk. “Huh?”

“Yesterday you said that you were a bad boyfriend because you don’t lie and say that you’re okay when you’re not. But you’re not a bad boyfriend at all. It means a lot to me that you trust me enough to confide in me. And I just want you to be confident that you can always confide in me no matter what because I care about you so much, and I care that you’re not doing well because I wanna help. Even if that means tutoring you. Or napping in the middle of the day to pretend it’s not happening. I don’t want you to think that your bad mental health makes you a bad boyfriend because you’re not.”

Brendon put his pencil down on his notebook slowly, not expecting that, and stared at him for a long minute. Calculating. How someone like Dallon could love someone like him. How someone like Dallon could be so kind and understanding and patient, even after everything. “Thank you.” He said sincerely, because he couldn’t find any other words to say it for him.

“Of course.” Dallon nodded, smiling warmly, and they shared this look of solidarity, this look of exchanged I love you’s, though they never thought to say it. “And also, like...” He sighed, and squirmed around a little in his seat. “Can I say something you might not like?”

“I guess it’ll cancel out what you just said,” Brendon figured, because he didn’t see the point in censoring things anymore.

“Okay. I hate when you call me perfect.” He said blatantly, and Brendon’s eyebrows moved in curiosity. “You called me perfect. And I know sometimes that means perfect to you. Like you can’t see the flaws that I have because you love me. Which is good, I love how much you love me, but like... it’s intimidating. The fact that you see me that way. The fact that I’m someone to live up to, for you, or someone that you admire. And you’re just... I am so stupid in love with you that it’s blinding sometimes. So I see what you mean. And I like that we can talk to each other and open up and tell each other about our issues because that’s so important to me. But I don’t want you to compare us because I’m not perfect and I don’t want you to disregard everything that’s wrong with me because you’re going to be disappointed when you realize I’m not who you made me out to be. I love you for thinking highly of me. It just scares me when I don’t know how to be the person you view me as.”

Brendon stared at him for a minute, trying to process what he’d said. Trying to recount all the times he’d called him perfect in passing, when he managed to solve an equation no one else got, and when Brendon snuck a tour of his sketchbook, and when he kissed him dizzy like no one else ever could. At his wrapped gifts and handwriting and hands themselves. At so many of the things he did so effortlessly. Dallon wasn’t perfect. That was what made him so.

“Okay. I won’t call you perfect,” Brendon said finally, and didn’t know how to add that he would never see Dallon’s flaws as reason to stop admiring him. Wasn’t love about accepting every part of someone? “But I don’t... not see your flaws. I don’t dismiss every unsettling thing you’ve done or said because I know you’re human. That’s why I admire you. Because you’re so human to me. I never thought of you as anything less than this flawless being who could do no wrong because I had this dumb, middle school-like crush on you. That went out the window so fucking fast. I realized the day we started talking that you were complicated. I love you because of that.”

“The complexity.” He said calculatedly.

“Uh-huh. I love the complexity. That I lie awake at night trying to decipher things that you say or do because sometimes I just don’t get you. And maybe that’s just me being dense, because I am, but I really do think you’re perfect in a lot of ways. Not in every way, believe me. But it’s like... all of it just makes you more you. And that’s who I love. And I don’t see it as blinding. I see it as... enlightening.” He added, and Dallon didn’t even have a minute to think before he spoke again. “But I won’t call you perfect. Because I think it’s good that we see things in different ways.”

“Oh.” Dallon sat back, surprised. He never really thought... “Okay. Thank you.”

“Thank you.” Brendon nodded cordially, returning to his homework, and Dallon stared at him for a minute, amazed.

“I think you’re perfect too, by the way,” Dallon added, and Brendon looked up again, smiling this time because some works were good spoken, better than they were thought.

“I know you do.” He assured him, more trusting than confident, and Dallon smiled after him again before he looked away, blushing because Brendon Urie really got to him sometimes. That was the best thing about Brendon. He understood. Dallon had seen him back then and thought, this is a person I need in my life. This is a boy I’ll keep. Collect him, save him for when I really need him.

He looked up at Brendon, the boy he had collected, and he just knew.

* * *

Brendon didn’t understand. Statistics was just a stupid class and a stupid concept and he wished he would never have to see another math problem ever again. Every day during study hall and after school was spent behind a textbook and notes that Dallon had taken and his hands ached from writing so much. He still didn’t get it, no matter how many practice problems he and Dallon did together, no matter how well he explained it, Brendon didn’t get it.

He tried everything. Looking everything up online to try and find the answers, watching Dallon do it first to pick up on the trends in the equations, begging him to let him copy. He just didn’t understand. Everything was starting to blur in his mind and he was starting to get dizzy.

Across town Dallon was sitting alone on his bed, trying to get a paper done and listening to a new record when a knock on the door caught his attention. “Hey, Dals.” His mom greeted, waving her hands to get his attention. When he caught sight of her he hung the headphones around his neck, his eyebrows climbing high.

“Huh?”

She leaned against the doorframe, folding her arms and smiling down at her son. “I can hear your music from here, babe, you have to be careful you don’t damage your hearing. What are you doing? You look in the zone.”

“Oh.” He turned the volume down, looking back at his laptop. “I’m trying to get a little of this paper done. I’ve been helping Bren with his math so I haven’t started it yet. He’s not, like, holding me back or anything. I’m just trying to make sure he graduates with me.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to reprimand you. I just have a question. An awkward one.” She shifted her weight, and he pulled his headphones off from around his neck. She hesitated, studying the way he looked at her expectantly, before she asked, “Do you have a condom?”

He gave her a look of disgust. “Mom!”

“What?!” She threw out her arms in exasperation. “I’m sorry, but you’re an adult, are you not? I can ask a fellow adult for protection if I need to. Besides, I assume you don’t want a sibling now.”

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “No, I don’t. And you’re my mother. Not a fellow adult. It’s gross.” He reached over to pull his bedside table drawer open, digging through it to grab a few condoms where he’d stashed them. He climbed out of bed and pushed his laptop shut, dropping the condoms in her hand as he slid past her into the hallway, suddenly feeling suffocated. “Here, take a few. Don’t go through my stuff if you need more, please.” She watched him unapologetically, though she wouldn’t have asked if she really felt that bad. “On an unrelated note, I think I’m gonna go to Brendon’s.”

She frowned, following him to the front door. “Well, don’t let me drive you out.”

“No, it’s okay. I should probably spend some time with my boyfriend without doing homework. I miss seeing his face without math equations in front of it.” He sighed, grabbing his keys from the hook and making sure he had his phone in his pocket as he bent down to slide on his boots. “Um, have fun, I guess. I’ll let you know where I end up.”

“Okay, Dallon.” She watched him grab his jacket, pulling it on tight and zipping it up to his chin. “Tell Brendon I say hi. Be safe, please, it’s dark out, it might be slippery. There might be ice. Drive safe, though I don’t think you need me to tell you.” She waited by the door as he pulled it open, feeling guilty for not taking to heart that he hated being home when her boyfriend was around. “You can sleep at Brendon’s tonight, if you want. Just text me and let me know.”

“Alright. Thanks, mom. Love you.” He accepted a kiss on the cheek and headed out into the hallway, pocketing his hands and squinting down the hall, at the glowing button of the elevator even though the lights were dimmed. There was a difference between knowing what they were doing and being home for it. There was a difference between closed doors and her opening his to ask for protection.

Dally: are you busy

Bumblebee: being a productive member of society? no. having an intimate evening with snacks and animal crossing? yes. why, got a better offer?

Dally: yes I hate my life my mom just asked me for a condom and I wanna go be miserable out in the cold world to match my heart care to join me

Bumblebee: being miserable? that sounds right up my ally!!! do u want some popcorn

Dally: yeah sure why

Bumblebee: cause I have popcorn and I don’t really wanna leave it :/ I love u but popcorn

Dally: I love popcorn more so you can stay home and I’ll just take that instead ;) dress warm

Bumblebee: yep I’ll be ready

Brendon was standing outside wrapped in his winter coat with a scarf around his neck and a big bag of popcorn in hand when Dallon pulled up in front of the diner. Dallon unlocked the car for him and greeted him with a forced half smile, the kind of night where smiles weren’t real, as he climbed into the passenger seat. Dallon appreciated that Brendon caught it but didn’t point it out, was starting to learn more about his moods in a good way, in a not really knowing everything yet way, and Brendon really didn’t have any idea but Dallon wished he could be oblivious to himself too, sometimes.

Brendon placed the bag of popcorn on the floor in front of him and let out a heavy sigh as he slammed the door shut behind him. “Hi, Dallon.”

“Hi.” Dallon gave him a fist bump and pulled back into the street, there wasn’t any ice and he was sure his mother knew it. Nevada never really got ice. They were frequent in overprotective mothers, though, but Dallon had managed to learn all about how to dodge. “How’s your night?”

“Better now. I knew we’d end up together tonight.” Brendon tilted his head back against the seat and forced a sympathy smile when Dallon looked at him. “Sorry your mom is having sex with her boyfriend.”

Dallon groaned and hit the steering wheel, taking his anger out on it opposed to the smiling boy beside him. “You have to word it like that?!”

He giggled. “I have to bring some sort of entertainment to my otherwise currently very shitty life. Do you have anything in mind, or are we just gonna drive?”

“Well,” Dallon checked the temperature on the corner of the radio screen, “it’s not too cold, so I’ve got a better plan. Are you fine being outside?”

“Yeah. It’s nice out tonight.” Brendon folded his arms over his chest and closed his eyes while Dallon continued to drive without a word.

The radio was playing quietly and Brendon was tapping his fingers on the puffy material of his jacket to the beat of the music for a while until the car stopped, about half an hour having passed. Brendon let his eyes fall open to see a cluster of trees in front of him and he glanced toward Dallon questioningly, looking for an explanation.

“Just come with me. Bring the popcorn.” He let himself out of the car and moved to the back to retrieve something from the trunk without another word. Brendon was confused but climbed out anyway, making sure to grab his popcorn as he went.

When Dallon returned, he had a red and green woven throw blanket slung over his arm, bent at the elbow, and Brendon reached out to tug at it with a huff in amusement. “Festive.” He said, following him toward the trees.

“I know. C’mon.” He led Brendon between two trees and down a dirt path while he carried the blanket and Brendon carried the bag of popcorn in silence.

They walked quietly for a minute before Dallon held an arm out in a ceremonious manner, presenting a small lake surrounded by sand and hidden by the trees. “A lake? How’d you know this was here?”

“I used to come here all the time with my parents and Ryan and Josh. The beach is too far away and the popular lakes are always crowded, so my dad showed us this little lake, if I were to guess I’d say that no one knows where it is. He and my mom used to hike the trails around here. This is where he proposed to her.” He laid the blanket down on the ground and took a seat, and Brendon walked over to claim the spot across from him.

He set the popcorn down carefully. “That’s sweet.”

“Yeah.” Dallon reached out to open the ziplock bag, not bothering to smile back at him. “Thanks for hanging out tonight. I know you don’t wanna keep hearing it, but I hate being home when Jack is there. It makes me sick to my stomach, thinking about him sleeping on my dad’s side of the bed.”

“I don’t mind hearing about it, Dal. You’ve listened to me cry every time we hung out for the past month and a half. You can rant about the guy your mom is seeing.” Brendon shrugged, having tiptoed between talking about it and not for a few weeks now. He’d been avoiding it, pretending it never happened, but he found that maybe he couldn’t bottle it up when it was all he could think about.

Through a mouthful of popcorn, Dallon asked, “How are you doing, Bren?”

Brendon shrugged and took a handful of popcorn out of the bag, mostly to play with and not to eat. “Not that great, to tell you the truth.” He admitted. “I know they say that when you lose your virginity you lose your innocence, but that isn’t the case with me anymore. Or I guess it never was. I didn’t feel like I stopped being innocent the night I slept with you. I just felt safe. I lost my innocence the night I was drugged. And...” He swallowed. “That day in the school bathroom. That completely ruined me. I was immaculate until then.”

Dallon nodded in understanding, but all traces of sympathy had disappeared and melted into something more sincere. Dallon was starting to understand. That Brendon couldn't handle those sympathetic looks, that honesty was better than dancing around it. Dallon had learned that himself, over the years; that sympathy meant nothing when no one understood. It was something he got on this level that no one else did, though, as misery really did love company. “I get it.”

“I feel marooned in my body, you know?” Brendon continued, picking apart a piece of popcorn like a child playing with his food. “I don’t feel like myself. I don’t belong to myself anymore. He took a part of me with him when he left that fucking bathroom that day.”

“I know what you mean.” Dallon pulled his knees up and rested his arms in his lap while Brendon wiped his hands on his sweatpants. “I know our lives are really different. My big depressive awakening was after my dad died. Yours was after the Halloween situation. And the difference is that when my dad died, I felt this sense of loss, but it was him. You’re feeling this sense of loss with yourself.”

“Yeah.” Brendon grabbed another handful of popcorn and tossed it into his mouth. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I just feel like it’s my fault. I know it’s not, everyone keeps telling me that, but that doesn’t make me feel any better. I think I was provocative or stupid and careless. I think I did something wrong.”

“It’s not that you did anything, Bren, it’s that something bad happened and it wasn’t under your control. Getting drugged at the party was one thing, you didn’t have someone to blame, but now you know that Shane is the one that drugged you. He’s to blame, for that and for harassing you.”

“I’m just glad he got fucking expelled.”

“I am too. You deserve that justice.” Dallon extended his leg to touch Brendon’s knee with his boot, and Brendon glanced up at him solemnly. “In the spirit of us being at the lake that meant so much to my dad, I think we should make some wishes, don’t you think?”

Brendon watched Dallon tilt his head back and gesture toward the stars with a raise of his eyebrows. Brendon nodded vigorously, eager to get to talk to the stars for the first time in a while, and let himself down until he was laying on his back and facing the clear night sky, hanging above them like a tapestry underneath little sparkling pinpoints. Dallon did the same in a way that his feet were next to Brendon’s head and vice versa, and they each crossed their arms over their chests and stared up at the stars. Little did they know, they were wishing on the same one out of millions, and maybe then again they really were star crossed lovers.

Brendon let his eyes slip shut and extended his hand to lay straight by his side. “Did you make a wish?” He asked in a whisper after a moment of silence in the cold air that Brendon had quickly become desensitized to.

A cold breeze blew past them, chilling to the bone though Brendon had to admit that he could really use a breath of fresh air. “Yeah. Did you?”

“Yeah. What’d you wish for?” He asked, and he knew that wishes weren’t supposed to be shared but if Brendon couldn’t feel connected to him then he wasn’t sure what he could feel.

Dallon tangled his fingers with Brendon’s in their upside-down manner. “That next year will be better.”

Brendon could have wished for a lot of things. His immaculacy, braving the world like he once had so strongly. His old desire for omniscience that has fizzled out and faded, effervescence lost like paradise. A better grade in math, for the antidepressants to do their job, or better yet, for his illness to disappear. There were a lot of things Brendon could wish for, and they were all unrealistic.

He let out an almost inaudible sigh to himself, and he couldn’t help the way that the corners of his mouth turned up just enough to constitute as a smile. Hope, stitched in with his helplessness. “Me too.”

They laid like that for a while, with fingers intertwined and the cold air on their faces, making pale flesh red. There was some sort of unspoken word between them though there always had been. This craving for silence.

Brendon thought that Dallon had fallen asleep by the way he was breathing slow until he sat up and then pushed himself up to stand. Brendon glanced up at him and frowned, watched as Dallon took quiet steps from the blanket to the edge of the lake, not making much noise save for the swish of his jacket and the crunch of the sand. He sat up too, hardly wanted to break the serenity of the moment, but it seemed that silence never had a safe effect on him, anymore.

Dallon was the first to cut through it. “I’m surprised it’s not frozen over.”

“Things in Nevada don’t freeze,” Brendon said, hoisting himself up to join him. Dallon looked at him and shrugged, he was right, and bent down to pick up a rock from the ground.

“Wish they did. Everything deserves a break, sometimes.” He skipped the rock and Brendon watched it, the water rippling as it skipped and splashed. Brendon felt like that, sometimes. Like he was walking on water one minute and sinking the next.

“I really thought I was happy,” Brendon muttered, half to himself and half to the rest of the world. The boy glanced up at him but didn’t respond, just let his gaze fixate on Brendon’s as a pair of brown eyes looked out at the lake. He wondered how many days it had been since the last time he felt free. Just a few months, but it felt like so much longer. Sometimes the days blurred together and the sunsets smudged into unrecognizable daydreams.

He hadn’t said it out loud. June was the month that everybody who cared about him told him that they were worried, but Brendon paid no mind to that. He was happy. That was the lie he told himself over and over every time he felt the need to scratch himself out of his skin, or when his stomach tightened with anxiety, when he felt his body go cold. Just a few bad days. He was happy. Happy things happened to him. Like the days he spent with Dallon and their friends. But a piece of him held him back, and he was just now coming to terms with that.

“I was kidding myself. I was lying to everyone. I lied to my family and to you and to me. I wasn’t fucking happy. I was just finding places to hide.” With a flick of his wrist, he skipped a rock over the water, and it only skipped once before it sunk to the bottom.

Dallon turned to look at him again. He looked dreary, like a bat beneath the moonlight. As he bent down to pick up a smooth rock from beneath his feet, he thought about how Brendon laid in his bed that one morning. He seemed so content, and it was like the past month hadn't happened at all. It was like a clean break for a second, a millisecond, a nanosecond, where Brendon felt comfortable, and a second where Dallon believed it. A fleeting moment where things weren't bad. Not everything had to be bad all the time.

“You know,” Dallon started with a grunt as he whipped a rock at the lake so hard it skipped three times, and Brendon glanced at him slowly, as if the whole world was underwater and he was running in slow motion. “I was thinking about— what you asked me the other night. If everyone’s pretending to be miserable.”

Brendon nodded. “And you said that people are too different to assign one state to all of them.”

“Yeah. And after you left I started thinking about— you remember my creative writing essay?” Brendon nodded once more, rotating his heel in the sand half-heartedly as he glanced away from piercing blue eyes to catch the way the bonfire moon came down across the lake. How could he forget? “Yeah, I started thinking about that. The placebo effect. And once upon a time that was my coping mechanism— acting destructive to pretend I was okay. And I came up with this theory that— if you’re right and everyone really is in the same place as us— then maybe every individual uses their own placebo effect.”

Brendon turned to look at him again, away from the gleam of the water. “Aren’t placebos pills?”

Dallon skipped another rock. “Can be. Not always.”

Brendon furrowed his eyebrows and stopped to watch the way Dallon moved like the conversation was easy, like Brendon's stomach wasn't clawing at itself in disgust. “So what do you mean?”

Dallon exhaled quietly, his breath rising in the air in front of him. “People use placebos as a trick. It’s the control group. Nothing changes but you think it does. Maybe that’s what people do; maybe we’re all fucking miserable. The only difference is that some of us can come to terms with the fact that we’re miserable. Some of us use the placebo effect, which would be...”

“Their pretending to be happy,” Brendon finished for him.

Dallon nodded. “Exactly. They pretend they’re happy so much that they trick themselves into thinking they are. And people will start to believe it because of some pavlovian response. It’s all a trick, Brendon. Ergo, that’s where the placebo effect comes into play. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think there are some aspects of the world that we’ll never figure out. Some things are just... impossible. This is one of them.” He turned away, letting his gaze linger unseeingly on the opposite side of the lake in the darkness. “If we’re all inherently miserable, then maybe the placebo effect works.”

“Or maybe every fake smile is just that. Fake. They know it, we know it. Some people are just smarter than others.” Brendon shrugged like it didn't matter anyway, and Dallon turned to look at him once more. “I don’t want to pretend to be happy. I’ve tried that before. It doesn’t work. Everyone sees through it and then what does that make me? A shit liar. A hypocrite. I don’t wanna be that. I wanna be one of those rare cases where I’m not pretending and hiding from the truth. I wanna be...”

“Happy?” Dallon supplied, and Brendon realized just then how sad it sounded. How pathetic. “I wish that was how it worked, Bren. I do. But it’s not.”

Brendon pouted, and Dallon was always right. How did it work? Everyone just smiled and said they were fine until they tricked themselves into believing it. Brendon had been a perfect prototype of that. When the world pointed out his flaws, all he did was try and conceal them. It was a bandaid. It wasn't real. “I guess the placebo effect is always a second option.”

Dallon let out a weak laugh and skipped another rock. “Or just a cop-out.”

"Yeah. Or that." He sighed quietly and then again, maybe it was just another hiding spot. “I just, I’m so sick of feeling like this. I wanna get all this nervous energy out. I need to scream.”

“Then scream,” Dallon said. Brendon glanced at him, quirked an eyebrow. “I won’t judge you. I’ve come out here to scream too. We’re a mile from the highway and that’s all there is.”

Brendon stared at him a minute, blinked a few times to take in the moonlight on his face. Dallon stared back like he as challenging him, but Brendon looked distant, removed. And he turned toward the water, perfectly still, and yelled, “fuck,” long and drawn out and angry.

Dallon tsked. “Come on, you’ve got some kickass vocal cords. You can do better than that. That was weak, Urie.”

“Just like everything else I do,” Brendon snapped, but it held no malice. Dallon sighed, tilted his head to the side, and yeah. Brendon knew. He whimpered softly to himself, but his mind went there again. Thinking back to October, November, where something had suddenly gone so wrong, and then he squeezed his eyes shut and screamed at the top of his lungs, screamed at nothing, and the world kept spinning, and everything remained still, and Brendon was still sad.

Dallon was watching him when he looked back at him. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but all there was was he and Dallon and this abandoned lake somewhere a ways away from the highway. “Did that make you feel better?” He asked, and Brendon sighed, shrugged, shook his head. Picked up another rock wordlessly and tossed it. This one skipped once before it sunk, and Dallon followed his lead.

“I just want to be my old self again,” Brendon said, dropping his hands in defeat.

And that was his placebo effect: wishing. Praying that one morning he would wake up the same as he had been a year ago. But the thing was that Brendon held so tightly onto the hope that he could go back again, but what he didn’t think of was how his mental illness manifested itself prior to his diagnosis. It had always been there, waiting. And maybe in a way he’d always known it, on those days where he was just too enervated to get out of bed or do anything besides stare at the ceiling, or when anxiety began to creep up his spine and make a home in his ribcage over something so minuscule it seemed not to matter. Maybe for years he had let himself block it all out in his head. Maybe... had he known all along?

He wanted to go back to the way he was before, but was that really any better?

* * *

The next time Brendon tried to have sex with Dallon was the day after their trip to the lake. He stared at the computer screen aimlessly as Dallon carded fingers through his hair, trying to watch the movie from the top of the Movie List though it was getting hard to focus when his skin started crawling. He squirmed uncomfortably, his mind racing again. He just wanted to stop thinking about it.

He reached out to close the laptop and Dallon looked up, opening his mouth to protest but not managing a word when Brendon kissed him. He pulled back, confused, and Brendon chased his mouth, pushing the laptop aside and going to straddle his thighs. Trying to replace the ugly feeling of a stranger’s mouth on his skin and fingers touching his body and hands around his neck.

Brendon pushed against him and Dallon put a hand on his arm, not expecting such a desperate act from someone who hardly wanted to be touched. His body didn’t feel like his own just then, like he had climbed outside of it and was watching himself make mistakes, and Dallon was hesitant but Brendon kissed into his mouth, head spinning, unable to think straight.

Dallon pushed his shoulder back, parting their lips, and breathed out, “Bren, hey. Wait.”

“Don’t wanna.” Brendon pulled back to sit on his heels and grabbed at the hem of his shirt, arching his bare back as he pulled it off over his head.

Dallon watched the way his body moved before him and said hesitantly, “I don’t think this is a good id-“

“I think it is.” Brendon interrupted, feeling up underneath his shirt and practically climbing up his body. Dallon was hesitant as Brendon kissed him again, reaching down to unbutton his own jeans and squirming in Dallon’s lap.

He pulled away again, watching the way Brendon struggled to pull his jeans down over his thighs. He was acting out. Dallon knew that. “Are you sure?” He asked carefully, fixating his eyes on Brendon’s looking downward.

He nodded feverishly and sat up to pull his jeans down, swearing under his breath and pulling his boxers off with them. Dallon’s eyes widened at his temerity, because this wasn’t like him. Even before everything. Brendon tossed his clothes aside, not bothering to take it slow because he was sick of slow. Slow meant thinking.

He reached out to dig a condom out of his side table drawer. Dallon held his hips steady, tried to slow his down, watched worriedly as Brendon sat on his thigh and held the condom out for him to take. He accepted it, but made no attempt to open it as Brendon nipped at his mouth, stealing kisses while Dallon slid his hands up his sides.

Brendon kissed down his neck and Dallon tilted his head to the side, staring down at a freckle on Brendon’s thigh and praying that he knew what he was doing. And he didn’t, and they both knew that, but still he prayed. Tried to convince himself that this wasn’t going to end badly.

“C’mere,” Brendon insisted with a tug to his shoulder, wanted him in charge, wanted to replace the memory. Such an ugly memory. He rolled over onto his back and grabbed at Dallon’s sides, coaxing him on top.

Dallon’s lips met his own transiently and he hovered over Brendon for a second, pushing a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Brendon promised, an empty promise, and kissed him again as Dallon almost cradled him. Gentle, softer than Brendon expected, but he wanted faster, he wanted to stop thinking, and he went to unbutton Dallon’s jeans desperately as they kissed.

He took Brendon’s hands and tangled their fingers together but Brendon pulled away to bury one in his hair, didn’t want sweet, Dallon didn’t get it, and Brendon kissed at his lips hard, trying to convince himself they both wanted this. Dallon pulled away, eyes soft, and went to kiss his cheek, his jawline, the side of his neck because he meant what he had said all those months ago. He wanted things slow.

Brendon tilted his head back to look at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, clutching Dallon’s shoulders and wishing he didn’t feel foreign hands instead of the ones he fell in love with. Wishing he didn’t feel it every time he closed his eyes. He burst into tears without warning.

He just wished it never happened.

“Stop.” He choked out suddenly, and like he were on fire Dallon retracted his hands. Hyperventilating, Brendon pushed at his shoulder. “Stop, I can’t,”

Dallon did as he was told, sitting up and leaning away as Brendon grabbed at his sheets. He wrapped them around his waist, crying in distress, and Dallon reached out to touch his back comfortingly. “Bren-“

“Don’t touch me.” He jerked away from Dallon’s hand and sat on the edge of the bed, facing the wall with his back to Dallon and shaking profusely. In a hushed, broken voice, he added an apologetic, “Dal, please.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry.” Dallon apologized, moving back to give him some room to breathe. He knew it was a bad idea, but Brendon’s moral compass had fallen out of his pocket somewhere, leaving him wandering in the dark without it. He wanted to let Brendon make his own decisions. He just didn’t know how to stop him from making more mistakes.

He stared at the ground with despondent eyes for what felt like forever, his gaze fixated on the uneven pattern of the wood floor and trying to breathe because his chest felt so constricted. Dallon sat on the opposite side of the bed, watching him carefully, not daring to make a sound and scare him.

Brendon was quiet for a while, inhaling and exhaling heavily, trying to take in enough air to fill his lungs again while he tried to replace the anxiety, hardly remembering the old exercises his first therapist told him to do. He just couldn’t get it out of his head, the feeling of unfamiliar lips on his neck, the unsuspected hand in his jeans, the sovereign look in his eye.

He really hoped that if he tried again with Dallon, he could trick himself into thinking he was ready. He knew he wasn’t, but... he just hoped.

“I thought I could-“ He stopped.

Dallon dipped his head to watch the way Brendon’s bare shoulders tensed while his fingers tightened around the sheet. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” He told him carefully.

Brendon blinked out a few tears, and when he sniffled, shoulders trembling, Dallon sat up and frowned at his back. “I want to.”

“But you can’t and that’s okay,” Dallon promised, and Brendon’s body relaxed a little. Quietly, he asked, “can I touch you?”

Brendon took a deep breath and nodded, so Dallon went to sit beside him on the edge of the bed with a hand on his shoulder. Brendon recoiled just the tiniest bit out of instinct, and then leaned into the gentle touch gratefully and whispered, “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re not ready for sex, that’s okay. Take as long as you need.” He assured him, wrapping an arm around his bare body and placing his chin on his shoulder. Brendon reached up to rub his tears away with his fists, but he refused to look him in the eye. He was humiliated.

“It’s not just that. I’m just... I’m not okay, Dallon. And I’m trying so hard to be and I’m not. I’m not ready for anything. It’s pathetic. And I wish I wasn’t dragging you into it. Talking to my family stresses me out because I know they’re tiptoeing, but I can’t stand leaving the house either. My friends are too overwhelming and I feel like I’m failing you too. No matter what I do I feel like everyone is waiting. Like everyone is out to get me. I used to feel like this back when... back when I was scared. And now I’m worried that I’m never gonna feel okay again. What if I’m never comfortable sleeping with you again? What if I never get rid of this paranoia? What if this broke me?”

Dallon traced his bare skin with his thumb carefully. “Look, B, this stuff takes time. And I’m gonna be with you no matter what, whether you wanna go out or stay in, and whether you wanna have sex again or not. You and I are stronger than all that. And something like this is life changing, but you don’t have to let it corrode you. Just give yourself time to heal and don’t worry about things you can’t control. You’ll know when you’re ready.”

Brendon sniffled again and kept his gaze on the sheet in his lap. “Thank you.” He whispered, the words feeling too heavy on his tongue. “And if it’s okay with you, I just— I don’t really wanna go out anymore. I know it should be good for me, and I don’t wanna distance myself from everyone, but maybe... maybe I should stop. At least until I can figure out how to make myself feel better.”

“That’s okay. And if we ever are out and you don’t wanna be there, just let me know and we can go home. I’ll always take you home.” Dallon rubbed his upper arm supportively and Brendon nodded, knew there was something wrong with him when he had to have his boyfriend get him out of social situations. Avoidant, maybe, but everything he did these days was.

“I know. I will.” Brendon promised, swore he would try to figure himself out before he found every interaction ending with him in tears in a public restroom wondering where it went wrong. “I... don’t really want everyone to know that I’m not— not capable of being out yet. They’ve all been so worried, and I just— they shouldn’t have to know. I wanna keep it all between us.” His voice remained quiet, afraid to be saying it, but Dallon understood. More than he thought, really, because Dallon used to lie to everyone, promise he was alright though he was smiling sickly at burning flesh behind closed doors. They all had sins like skeletons, so hard to hide.

Tears hung off of dark eyelashes and slid down sickly pale cheeks when Dallon looked at him, and it was like it was a curse, Brendon crying there just then. It was haunting, because Dallon had always thought that boys like Brendon shouldn’t cry. That was what they all thought. Most because he was lucky, but Dallon because he had once been so innocent. An innocent boy shouldn’t be crying one. A lucky one was only lucky to the people who couldn’t see behind his eyes.

He should be a picture-perfect example of everything that everyone always expected him to be. Strong. Capable. Smart. He just wasn’t. He was just scared of his own shadow, trembling because his skin burned and ached like Dallon’s did when a lit cigarette kissed it only this was because Dallon had kissed him and it wasn’t fair, that he was scared of lips that tasted so honey sweet sometimes and were bitten red raw with worry the next.

“I think...” Dallon started, went to touch his hand but decided against it. “I think we should come up with some sort of signal, or something. When one of us is feeling anxious or wants to leave when we’re around people, we need to have a thing.” He thought for a moment, and Brendon pawed at his cheeks. “If we’re ever somewhere and you wanna leave but don’t wanna say it out loud, take my hand and scratch my wrist. I’ll do it too, if I’m in that place. The other will make up an excuse for us to leave, okay?”

Brendon sniffled, nodding simply. “Thank you, Dal.” He whispered, feeling sick to his stomach.

“Of course.” He pressed a chaste, saccharine kiss to his bare skin and pulled away to smile up at him, trying not to look guilty though that was always hard. “You should get dressed. I’ll make hot cocoa, we can watch a Christmas movie or something, okay?”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you.” Brendon forced a smile up at him while Dallon stood, patting his shoulder and bending down to gather his clothes. Brendon inhaled as Dallon left the room, trying to breathe steady and wiping his cheeks off swiftly. Dallon was right. It would take some time, but he would get there. He just had to let himself heal.

* * *

Brendon couldn’t sleep. He was laying beside Dallon and staring at the glow in the dark stars, making silent wishes and thinking about better times. The summer had seemed so long ago, especially when he was out in the cold and the record-breaking winter was chilling him to the bone. The days he spent on Dallon’s roof under the sunshine, spending evenings talking and watching movies into the night, when Brendon thought he found himself on the drive to Salt Lake City. The taste of freedom felt so nice in the moisture of Dallon’s bottom lip that night.

Brendon had let Dallon have his body in the most intimate way. He let him bruise him, bite his lips, tell him he loved him, made Brendon feel safe. So how could the same pair of hands make him feel like throwing up?

He knew it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Dallon’s fault. It was just that he was Brendon’s lover, dealing with the aftermath of what neither had been expecting.

Brendon’s eyes were lingering on the stars on the ceiling, making pointless wishes when he heard Dallon sniffle beside him. He raised his eyebrows, listening for it again, he thought he had been sleeping, until he heard a hitch in breathing and panicked. He reached out to wrap his fingers around Dallon’s wrist to get his attention, and asked quietly, “What’s wrong?”

“I told you I’d protect you,” Dallon whispered into the darkness, and Brendon turned to squint at him, catching tears on his cheeks in the light from outside.

With furrowed eyebrows, Brendon could only stare in confusion. “What?”

“When we went to the beach over the summer. I kissed you hard because I wanted you to know that I love you and I promised that I would keep you safe because I knew you were scared but I wasn’t just talking about the ocean. I was— I didn’t— fuck, Brendon, I’m so sorry. I love you and I didn’t keep my promise and I-“ He stopped, and Brendon knew it was bound to happen. It was only a matter of time before Dallon broke down. Brendon just wasn’t expecting it to happen now.

“Dal.” Brendon turned onto his side and pulled him into his arms, letting him burrow into his shoulder and shaking his head in distress.

“I should have kept you safe.” He cried, sounding disgusted in himself, in Shane, in the fact that this had to happen. He gripped the sides of Brendon’s shirt so hard that Brendon thought he’d never let go or even try.

“Dallon. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s not— it’s not the end of the world, okay? It might feel like it but it’s not. I don’t blame you for anything. I’m not mad at you for anything. And my not wanting to have sex doesn’t have anything to do with you, it’s just that I’m not comfortable yet.”

“No,” Dallon pulled away to look him in the eye, “no, Bren, that isn’t it at all. I want you to be comfortable, of course, I just... I feel like this is my fault. I’ve been the worst boyfriend and the worst friend and the worst person to you. You were getting bullied, and we fought, and I ran away, and things were so bad, and then all this happened. If I had known... I should have been better to you. I wish I was better to you.”

“Oh, no, Dallon. It isn’t your fault, I promise.” He tucked hair behind Dallon’s ear and brushed his thumb across his cheek. “It’s not your fault. And it’s not your job to take care of me. I don’t want you to feel guilty over not being able to prevent bad things from happening to me. There’s no way you can help that. It’s not fair of me to expect that from you. It’s not fair to you to feel like you’re babysitting me all the time. You don’t have to protect me. I love that you try, I really do, but something bad happened. You can’t carry around guilt for something that isn’t yours to be guilty about.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks, glistening in the light of the moon outside. “I can’t help it. I didn’t take your drink, I-“

“I didn’t let you. It’s my fault, Dallon, okay? I wanted to prove that I could be independent and do something for myself. I thought that I would be alright. You offered me help and I denied it and I’m sorry for that. But... look, every time anyone looks at me it’s sympathy or worry and I miss the way you looked at me before this happened. The way your eyes light up and I can tell that I’m your everything. I miss that. I don’t want to keep looking at you and seeing guilt.”

And there it was, all out on the table. Brendon had always been impartial to carving out his soul and handing it to someone else to examine but, well. He’d already dropped a piece of it on the floor of the school bathroom so it couldn’t hurt. Dallon reached up to touch his face with his fingertips, a pale complexion under paler light, and brought it down to rest on the side of his face. Brendon leaned into it, tears on his cheeks, and never had he seen a more sincere look in the blue eyes he’d fallen in love with.

“I look at you with worry because you are my everything, Brendon.” He whispered, thumbing his cheek gently as if he were porcelain. “But I would do anything for you, so if you want things to go back to normal then they will. Or we can try, at least. I just want you happy.”

Brendon blinked slow, catching his own teardrops on his eyelashes. “I love you.” He choked out, trying to smile.

“I love you too.” He said it like a promise, and Brendon knew. “And look, if you feel like you can’t have sex, then that’s okay with me. If I were you, I wouldn’t want someone’s hands all over me either. We don’t need it for our relationship to be fulfilling, and I don’t want you to feel pressured. We can do whatever you wanna do.”

Brendon nodded considerately. “I wanna get to a point where we can do stuff comfortably again, I really do, but I’m not there yet. And I don’t know when I’m gonna be there.”

“That’s okay.” Dallon reached down to tangle their fingers together, flexing them in between Brendon’s and making him catch sight of a ring, a promise, one that should never be wasted. “Take all the time you need. Don’t worry about rushing things or trying to speed up your recovery from this because it will be difficult for a while. All you have to do is think about you and I’m gonna follow along for whenever you need me.”

“I always need you.” Brendon leaned forward to pull him into a hug, hiding his face because he hated when Dallon saw him cry. Talking about it wasn’t easy. Especially not with Dallon. Neither was accepting the fact that no matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t going to feel any different.

He would do anything to forget. It just wasn’t that simple.

“Are we okay?” Dallon asked suddenly, hesitance in his voice like maybe he didn’t want to know. Brendon pulled away to look him in the eye. Regret, remorse, something, like he’d failed him.

Sliding a hand up to rest on the side of his face, Brendon nodded. “Of course we’re okay. Did you think that we weren’t?”

Dallon shrugged and wiped at his eyes again while Brendon watched him carefully, trying to understand. “I don’t know. I just feel so guilty. I thought... I thought you were gonna die, Bren.” He cried, and Brendon hadn’t realized how scary it must had been for him too. “I thought you weren't gonna wake up. I tried to take care of you but I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t call an ambulance when I should have. I didn’t take you to the hospital. I didn’t do what anybody else would have done. And I love you, so, so fucking much, and the thought of losing you-“

“You aren’t. Hey, you aren’t.” Brendon assured him, touching his face too much and shaking his head to get him to stop. “You aren’t losing me. I’m not going anywhere. You have to trust me. You have to believe that I’m here with you. I love you. I love you.” He kissed him and could feel tears on his cheeks when their skin touched, pressing too close against him because he didn’t want to know what it felt like to be apart. “I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered against his lips, barely any room to breathe.

“Promise?”

“I promise. Dallon-” He sighed, pulling away to wipe his face, shocked that he was the one comforting Dallon for a change. “You’ve been my rock for weeks. For over a year, if we’re being honest. I trust you with everything in me. And I want you to trust me too. Come here, baby.” He wrapped an arm around his shoulders and Dallon sniffled, holding him close and swallowing thickly. “I’m gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay. Come lay with me.”

Dallon let Brendon tug him down by the center of his shirt and he complied, resting his head on Brendon’s chest and holding back tears. Brendon carded a hand through his hair, shaking his head gently, and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to do, because Dallon held it together, pretended he was fine, and fell apart only when he was sure that he could. Brendon just fell apart all the time. He didn’t know what to do with that.

He listened to the sound of Brendon’s heart beating and he felt the rise and fall of his chest. Brendon was alive. That was more than anything he could say right now.

“I need you,” Dallon whispered suddenly, the words feeling like a proposal of some kind.

And Brendon brushed his hair back with his fingers, and somehow it felt easier to breathe when he remembered too that he was alive. Whatever had happened to him wasn’t the end of everything because he was still here, heart beating, chest rising, holding his boy and trying to appreciate that he was alive too, and that felt so rare these days. Being alive and okay and real.

In a voice just as infinitesimal, Brendon whispered, “You’ve got me.”


	40. Chapter 39: Alone and Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fun twist I bet no one was expecting !!!!!

Christmas vacation came slowly, and though the semester wasn’t over yet it was close to the end. During his last few days he finished as many missed assignments as he could, cried only when he was done because he didn’t have any time. He stared at his grades online for hours, waiting for them to go up, though he knew the teachers wouldn’t be putting anything in until the new year.

“Are you coming today?” Brendon asked in a whisper on the phone with Dallon after he had opened his presents, and they supposed it was tradition now, joining their families for the holiday because it ran deeper than blood by now.

“Of course I am.” Dallon promised, and Brendon felt better when he heard Dallon get up to tell his mom.

Brendon didn’t have to say a word when Dallon climbed the steps and pulled him into a long hug an hour later, his mother trailing behind with gifts and leaving the boys to their hello. And Brendon didn’t let go for a long minute, just held him for a second, letting Dallon hold him back because he knew they both needed it right now. Overwhelmed, he could feel his heart pounding.

“You don’t even know how happy I am to see you.” He whispered in his ear while Dallon’s mom joined Brendon’s parents in the kitchen. Dallon pulled away and gave him a kiss on the forehead, leaving in its wake a tiny smile on Brendon’s face. It wasn’t much but it was something, a promise, a truth, a lucky star.

“I would’ve come over even if you didn’t invite me, you know.” Dallon admitted, kicking off his boots and tugging up his leggings while Brendon stood by and watched gratefully. “I love spending Christmas with you. I love our tradition.”

“Me too.” Brendon stepped back so Dallon could pull his jacket off, revealing a Christmas sweater with a basket of knit puppies wearing Santa hats on it, and Brendon put a hand to his heart as Dallon hung up his jacket. “Oh my god.”

“That’s my favorite smile.” Dallon reached out to pinch his chin and smiled when Brendon’s eyes softened. “I wore this dumb thing to make you happy. You really needed it.”

“I did.” Brendon wrapped his arms around Dallon again and inhaled heavily. He smelled like peppermint, the body wash scent he used during the holidays, and the sweater was as soft as Dallon’s soul. And a year ago today they hugged tight, like they wouldn’t admit it but they needed it, and Dallon had told him he loved him and Brendon held his hand because some things weren’t simple. A year ago today, things were very different. “Thank you for being here. And for wearing a cute puppy sweater.”

“Hey.” Dallon pulled away and grazed the pale skin on his cheek with the palm of his hand before he settled to cup his jaw. “I told you, Urie, I would be here whether you like it or not.”

Brendon tugged at his sweater and looked up to meet his eyes, never knowing exactly how to say that he knew he meant it more than he thought Brendon could understand. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Cause your parents are good cooks.” Brendon shoved his shoulder, but reached out for his waist and pulled him into a hug anyway. Pressing a kiss to his temple, he added, “And because we need each other today. Whether you know it or not.”

Brendon knew it. “Yeah, you’re right. C’mon.” He tugged him toward the kitchen so he could greet his family.

They sat alone in Brendon’s bedroom that afternoon and exchanged presents, talking and listening to Christmas music like nothing was wrong. And there was, and they could feel it, but it was Christmas. It was Brendon’s first Christmas with Dallon as more than friends and it was his first Christmas feeling like a completely different person but not in the way that he had hoped. But he meant what he had said. He didn’t want to be pitied.

It was just so hard when the last few weeks had been framed by his family’s unspoken desire for him to act like his old self.

“Hey, we should probably get back downstairs. We’re gonna eat soon, and I should spend time with my family.” Brendon said reluctantly, playing with Dallon’s hand in his lap and feeling guilty again for no reason. Dallon nodded though, let Brendon make the decisions because it gave him some control, Brendon had figured after a long few weeks. And anyway, they’d decided that Christmas was important to spend with family.

They climbed out of bed together and Brendon adjusted his shirt as he headed toward the door. Dallon hesitated before he reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, catching his attention and making him turn to look at him. “Hey, I have something else for you.”

“Another present?” Brendon asked, baffled. Dallon had already given him enough.

“Something like that.” Dallon smiled down at him warmly and reached into his back pocket, only unclenching his fist to reveal a little chain sitting there innocently in the palm of his hand. Brendon’s eyebrows furrowed, and Dallon straightened it out. “Um, my mom gave this to me a few years ago. It’s got my initials engraved in it, but I never really got around to wearing it. It’s not my thing. But she suggested that I give it to you, so... um. When my dad died I started wearing his wedding ring because I wanted to carry a piece of him around with me. It’s not like I’m dead or anything, but I want you to carry a piece of me with you, you know? Just a reminder that I’m here for you. I mean, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, I know it sounds like I’m trying to like, claim you, but-“

“Can you put it on me?” Brendon interrupted, turning his back to Dallon and reaching behind him to push up the tips of his too long hair.

Dallon smiled to himself and unhooked the clasp, hanging it carefully around Brendon’s neck. Letting his fingers brush his skin before he secured the clasp again. Brendon was smiling when he turned around and clumsily reached up to wrap his hands around the sides of Dallon’s neck, standing on his toes and tilting his chin up to capture his lips in a sweet kiss, warm and slow and soft. Everything they did lately seemed softer.

Dallon held onto his elbows when Brendon’s fingertips touched Dallon’s cheeks, holding him in place to kiss him dizzy. His lips met Dallon’s in short, gentle kisses, soft touches. He pulled back and took one more bite at lips before he stepped back and looked up at him, eyes adoring. “This isn’t your way of keeping me on a short leash, is it?”

Dallon smiled. “Not that you know.” He said, and Brendon laughed as he reached up with one hand to touch the chain and pulled Dallon into a hug with the other.

“Thank you.” He whispered, burying his nose in the crook of Dallon’s neck. “You have no idea how much this means to me. All of it. You being so good to me, protecting me, spending Christmas here, this is everything. Thank you.”

“Of course.” He squeezed Brendon tight and pulled away to look at him, the light catching the newly placed chain around his neck. “C’mon, we should get downstairs. It won’t be too bad.”

No, it wouldn’t. “Yeah. Yeah, come on, then.” He slid his hand into Dallon’s, and he could feel the weight of the chain, somehow heavy despite how tiny and thin it was. The feeling of someone loving him, keeping him safe. Someone having his back. It felt nice to be cared about.

“There they are.” Brendon’s mom chimed playfully when they stepped into the living room together, fingers entwined and Brendon’s eyes darting around nervously, not wanting to be spooked. But everything was as it should be, his family and Dallon’s mother sitting in the living room chatting, Kara’s boyfriend making conversation with Brendon’s brothers, Kara in the kitchen taking over like she tended to do. Everything seemed copacetic.

“Yeah, we were exchanging presents and talking.” Brendon tugged Dallon toward the couch, forcing a smile even though they all knew the truth. But his mother smiled back anyway, in that warm motherly way like she was proud he made it to another Christmas, and in a way she was. Brendon was proud too. He wasn’t dead. That was starting to seem like an accomplishment.

The loneliness that Brendon had been feeling was still there, but at the very least it was being covered by the warmth of his hand tucked safely in Dallon’s while he and Brendon’s siblings sat around and talked, Brendon himself opting for silence. “Are you feeling any better?” Dallon asked in a whisper at some point, from where he had taken a place on the floor beside him. He brushed his lips over a spot on the back of his neck, and Brendon tightened his hands in Dallon’s, feeling his father’s wedding ring against his skin when he squeezed. Things could be worse.

“A little. Thank you.” He tilted his head to the side, enough to meet his eyes. “I’m gonna go talk to Kara for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” Dallon loosened his grip on his hands, let him go, so Brendon stood up and turned to force a smile at his boyfriend before he tugged up his pajama pants and made his way to the kitchen.

Kara was standing at the stove when Brendon entered. Christmas music was playing on the radio, and she was spending some quiet time alone while she cooked, as she did each year when their mother relinquished her kitchen duties for a break. At the sound of footsteps Kara turned around to look at her youngest brother, and her red lips turned up warmly, not having expected it to be him. “Hi, little one.”

“Hi. How’s dinner?” He took a seat at the table and reached out to grab a baby carrot stick from the vegetable platter.

“It’s comin’ along. You know, I was just thinking about you.” She turned to give him a half smile, and when he offered a look of confusion she went to sit beside him. “When we were little, mama and daddy used to make these Santa gingerbread cookies. I would bite the heads off because I thought it was so funny, but you cried every time. You got so mad at me; you wouldn’t talk to me until I apologized.”

Brendon remembered that. She used to have this face when she ate them, like she knew she was killing Brendon and it somehow pleased her. He hated her for doing that. “And you kept doing it every year after that.”

“Yeah, I did.” Kara reached out to place a hand on Brendon’s thigh with a quiet laugh, and he was glad he didn’t hate her anymore. “How are you doing today?”

“Not good, but a little better since Dallon is here. He has this way of making me feel better all the time. Or, most of the time.” He reached up to tug on the chain on his neck, feeling its gravity with every movement. “I really love Christmas, you know.”

“I know. You always have. And you still should.” When Brendon caught her gaze, she added, “I’m not saying you don’t, I’m just saying that this holiday holds a lot more meaning. Don’t let anything ruin it. And don’t let anything ruin you.”

Not knowing what to say, he didn’t knew she was dwelling so much on it, he nodded obediently like it was set in stone now. “I won’t, Kara.”

“Hey, um.” Dallon’s voice came from the doorway of the kitchen, catching Brendon’s attention though he always did. “Kyla told me to come get you guys, she wants to watch Elf and she says it’s only fun when you’re all quoting it together.”

“Oh!” Kara put her spoon down and called for her mother to take her place, caught up in tradition, and Brendon stood up as well. Tradition sounded nice. He couldn’t let that fade away too. He stepped silently toward his boyfriend, Kara trailing behind, but Dallon grabbed his wrist when he tried to slip by him.

“Urie, wait.” He said, sliding his hands to his hips and pulling him in closer. Brendon stumbled under his fingers but settled anyway, cheeks flushed and body close, and he tilted his head down to press their lips together.

Kara smiled warmly and Brendon tangled his fingers in Dallon’s sweater, confused but sweetly so, and Dallon pulled him closer by the waist, pressing against him like he knew he was wondering if he was really there. His dissociation with reality left an inability to be two feet solid in it sometimes. But still he kissed back, let Dallon’s mouth guide his until he pulled away to bump his nose against Brendon’s, underneath it to tilt his head up and capture his lips once more in transience.

“I wanted to do that last year.” Dallon whispered, breath warm on red lips, and then nodded his head up toward the mistletoe hanging above them. “Really, really bad. Now c’mon.” He reached down to take his hand, and something softened in Brendon’s eyes as he went to follow him into the living room, settling down by the tree because this felt like a gift, sometimes.

“I’m glad you’re here today.” Brendon said softly as Matt clicked play on the movie, and Dallon’s fingers found Brendon’s in his lap, the feeling of a wedding ring, the feeling of a promise.

“I’m glad you’re here every day.” Dallon whispered, and Brendon felt at ease for the first time in weeks.

* * *

The Sunday light stretched across wood floors as Brendon walked carefully down the steps in his socks, still tired because he had barely slept though that had been routine for months. His mom was cleaning the kitchen when he greeted her, forcing a smile and sliding into a seat at the table with one leg tucked underneath him.

“Hi, ipo. Would you like some breakfast?” She went to kiss the top of his head in a hello but he was focused on the leftover Christmas cookies out on the table.

“Um, no.” He reached for a cookie and grinned falsely at her when she gave him a look.

“Did you have a nice Christmas?” She asked then, beginning to stack the rest of the cookies in a storage box and not telling him to stop because he’d had a rough few months, a cookie or two wasn’t going to kill him.

“It was okay.” Brendon shrugged noncommittally, breaking his cookie in half because that was more interesting than him, anyway. “I like our new tradition. Dallon coming over. It makes him feel a lot better about his dad not being there and it made me feel better too. He always makes me feel better.”

“I know he does, keiki.” She ruffled his hair and he forced a smile, taking a bite of his cookie and kicking at the bottom rung of the chair with his heel. “Do you feel okay, at least? More than you have?”

“Not really.” He admitted quietly as his dad stepped into the room, going to make a pot of coffee. He kissed his wife on the cheek and she said hello, interrupting the conversation though maybe that was for the best, because Brendon never knew how to talk to his parents about how sad he was. It just made him feel guilty all over again.

“Cookies for breakfast, Brens?”

“I have depression, I’m allowed to have cookies for breakfast.” He muttered, mouth full, and his dad chuckled but retrieved the empty coffee pot. “And I don't know. I thought I would feel better by now, but I’m just... not. And I don’t even know if it’s about everything that’s happened in the past few months. It’s just everything.”

“Mental illnesses are genetic, buddy. We always wondered if maybe that was what it was.” His dad turned to look at him and Brendon peeked up from his cookie. “When you were scared of everything.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to figure that out too.” Brendon sighed, rolling a crumb in between his fingertips. He had been wondering for a while now, trying to calculate when things took a bad turn. He had a lot of time to think when he was neglecting his homework. His mom took a seat beside him at the table and he sat back, pulling a knee to his chest. “Did you ever find out why? Did any doctors tell you anything, or did you ever have a feeling, or...? Because I’ve been confused for like, ten years. And when that psychiatrist told me that maybe what happened to me caused the depression that just suddenly appeared, I can’t stop thinking... what happened to me? I wasn’t like, molested, was I?”

“Oh my god, Brendon, no.” His mother promised, and he didn’t think so, but then what was this? “No, honey, we would have told you that. You’re seventeen. We try not to hide things from you. We know you’re confused.”

“I know, but what happened?” He asked, extending his arms needily until his dad went to give him an apologetic hug, guilty for not being able to help.

“When you were little your doctor said you probably saw something that traumatized you. But nothing like that happened to you, you never slept anywhere else, and... we don’t know, Bren. You saw something that scared you and it stuck. We could never figure it out.”

Brendon let out a noise of distress because this wasn’t fucking fair. He didn’t know who he was supposed to be when he didn’t know anything about himself in the first place. “I wanna be normal.” He whined, and his dad pet his hair carefully.

“Did having sex trigger anything?” His mom asked gently but he shook his head, that was never a problem for him, not until now because thinking about it made him want to puke.

“No, not at all. It was fine. But like... I don’t know. A week ago I tried to sleep with Dallon again and I had a panic attack. And I know that that’s valid because of what happened to me but it’s scary, anyway. That something can affect me this much.”

“He didn’t try to force you or anything, right?” His dad asked warily, pulling away to look at him.

Brendon shook his head again. “No, no. I initiated it. He told me it was a bad idea. I just thought it would make me feel better. It didn’t. I wish it did.”

“It takes time to heal, Brendon. More than a month or two.” His mom added, and he knew that, and he knew he could trust them not to steer him wrong. He just wanted to get past this. Pretend that nothing happened. He guessed it wasn’t that easy when it was all he saw when he closed his eyes.

"I just wanna heal faster." He pouted, if only it were that easy.

* * *

Once the thrill of Christmas had died down Dallon took off to Salt Lake for a couple of days, visiting his grandmother and cousins before the new year. Brendon was trying to enjoy the alone time, stretching out on his bed, ensconced in his favorite fuzzy blanket and listening to the vinyl Dallon had given him a year ago. Dallon sent pictures of the Utah mountains and Brendon missed him, never seemed to realize it until he was at his loneliest.

Ryan: hey brendon can I talk to you about something really important?

Brendon sat up, eyebrows furrowed in worry as he typed out a response. His heart started racing and he knew, he knew he shouldn’t be getting involved in situations where anything sounded important because he proved pretty damn well that he couldn’t.

Brendon: yeah anything. is everything okay?

He rolled onto his stomach and brought his thumb to his face to chew on his nail anxiously, inexplicably nervous. A notification from Dallon appeared at the top of his screen and he swiped it away, watching the three dots dance on Ryan’s side instead because Dallon could wait a moment for his anxiety, he thought.

Ryan: yeah everything is okay I just wanna tell you something and get advice and rant if that’s okay with you

Brendon: yeah it’s fine u can trust me

Ryan: okay swear to god you won’t say anything to tyler or josh or literally even dallon or any other living creature until I’m ready. like I’m talking not even telling your dog

Brendon: I won’t tell anyone but I don’t even have a dog

Ryan: IF you were to have a dog then promise you wouldn’t tell it

Brendon: okay I promise I wouldn’t tell my theoretical dog now what’s going on you’re gonna make me puke

Ryan: okay sorry I’m stressed out I’m gonna rant

Ryan: so I like guys and it’s kind of a New Realization and I know it doesn’t sound like a big deal because all my friends like guys and I know it’s dumb to be scared to come out but like

Ryan: I know my mom will be okay with it and so will her boyfriend and my siblings and my friends obviously but I’m scared? idk if that makes any sense like ik you’re gay and so are dallon and tyler, and josh is bi and I am too because I still like girls but this feels weird

Ryan: not bad weird, like you know that weird feeling in your stomach that something feels wrong or strange and you don’t know how to pinpoint it??? that’s how I feel and I don’t know what’s going on. not saying that liking guys is anything that’s Going On, because it’s definitely not a bad thing, it’s just that I thought I knew who I was and what I liked and I thought I had everything figured out and now I like guys and it’s scary you’re the first person I’ve told and I’m scared to tell anybody else :(

Brendon: I don’t even know what to say??? first of all like congratulations for coming out I’m really proud of u for that it’s a big deal and really really brave (and thank u for choosing me to come out to I will consider it an honor)

Brendon: and also I know everybody will be supportive so that isn’t something that u need to worry about. people at school will be weird about it because being lgbtq is a huge deal there for some reason (assuming that u wanna come out at school but it’s understandable if u don’t though I hated coming out at school) but eventually they get over it. and we’re getting out in a couple of months anyway so it’s not like it matters

Brendon: and to be totally honest coming out is fucking scary, especially when u don’t know how people will react. I was scared that everybody would hate me but that isn’t the case, it’s just paranoia and everything is gonna be okay (ik that’s cheesy but it’s true) and being bi is cool ! liking boys is just like liking girls except sometimes you might like straight boys or boys whose sexual preference u don’t know so u have to make inferences and sometimes you’re dead wrong. I thought dallon was straight lol u just have to figure that part out but it’s not always that easy. u can’t control who u like based on their sexuality, sometimes you’ll like a boy who likes boys and sometimes you won’t !!! but also just because a boy likes boys doesn’t mean they automatically like another gay dude because that isn’t generally how attraction works. I don’t know what else to say but if and when u come out I’ll be supportive and so will everyone else bc no one’s gonna see u differently

Ryan: thank you brendon that helped a lot I knew you were the right person to talk to

Ryan: I’m just scared because I know it’s harder and I already suck at relationships enough and I know what you guys go through

Ryan: I don’t know how to come out to my friends or family but I’m just kind of freaking out about it. not to mention dallon and I have this weird history regarding his liking guys and my not liking guys and I’m scared that he’s going to be mad at me even though I know he won’t but idk it’s a long story and I’m not really at liberty to tell it

Ryan: I’m not like mad or anything because that would be dumb I just feel invalid

Ryan: I was on the internet all night on Christmas researching and I guess I’m bi but I feel like I’m not really because I haven’t dated a guy so I can’t prove it. anyone can say they’re bi right? so maybe I’m just trying to justify some of the things I’ve done because I’m guilty or maybe I’m trying to be different, or that’s what some people online said

Brendon: ryan those people are idiots if u like guys then u like guys u don’t need to be validated. I’ve known I was gay for years but I just started dating Dallon not even a year ago. just cause you’ve dated girls and not boys doesn’t make u any less bi/gay/into guys

Brendon: and idk what happened with u and dal because he’s never mentioned it but whatever it was I’m sure he won’t be upset with u he’s really not that kind of guy

Ryan: I know but I’m still worried that it does because I don’t wanna like “fake it” I guess. I don’t wanna make it out to seem like I want attention because I don’t. I just like guys? on Christmas I went to my aunt’s house and her son is gay and his boyfriend was there and I was talking to them about it and it got me thinking about how I feel and I kind of really like this guy and I thought it was just that I wanted to be his friend but then I had this dream and idk

Ryan: yeah I know dal is the best but I still can’t help but feel like this is going to bring up old shit that we all tried to bury

Brendon: understandable

Brendon: who is the guy

Ryan: this guy in my math class idk if you know him but he has a girlfriend so obviously this ~experience is 0/10 so far

Ryan: HE HAS A G I R L F R I E N D AND IM SO MAD

Brendon: you’ve had girlfriends too u know ! maybe he likes guys too!!!! and also I’m sorry ur experience started out so shitty that was like tyler he liked this straight guy in middle school and it killed him but eventually u learn and everything it just takes time

Ryan: fuck I hope you’re right :(

Brendon: and if it makes u feel any better i spent two and a half years pining over a boy who liked me back the whole time so really anything is possible!!!

Ryan: so how do i come out do i just say hey i’m bi and hope that no one makes a big deal out of it because i know tyler and josh and dal and they’re all gonna make a big deal out of it

Brendon: honestly just take them to a place where they can’t make a scene and then say straight out that u like dudes and hopefully they’re civil

Ryan: in that case can we go out for lunch tomorrow i’ll ask everyone else and tell them there because it’s gonna bother me until I do it :/

Brendon: sure I’m not working and dallon is flying home early tomorrow morning and getting out will probably be good for me

Ryan: ok thank you i appreciate it

Brendon rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling, smiling because no one had ever come out to him in confidence before anybody else before. He curled up in a little ball and squealed like a child, unexplainable though reminiscent of how proud of himself he was, once upon a time, when he came out too.

“I missed you.” Dallon said into the hug when he greeted Brendon the next afternoon, squeezing his shoulders and leaving a kiss on the forehead before Brendon climbed into the passenger seat. “I know it was only three days, but, y’know.”

“I know.” Brendon bumped his fist against Dallon’s arm, smiling warmly because sometimes he really did just miss him. “So how was the flight?”

Dallon shrugged, starting the car to head downtown to where Ryan planned a lunch for the five of them. “Better a one hour flight than the long drive. When we’re only there a couple of days it’s not worth driving. I’m glad I got to see my family, though. My grandma says hi.” He tilted his head against the seat, smiling. “She has a framed photo of us in her living room now.”

“Oh my god.” Brendon laughed, barely shocked because that woman adored him when they met. But he smiled childishly and poked at Dallon’s arm because he missed him, and he loved him, and the family that one day he could only wish to be a part of and the way Dallon’s hand fit in his when they met at the middle console.

“Hi, welcome home.” Ryan greeted when Dallon hugged him hello, joining the group at the table they’d claimed where they already ordered Brendon and Dallon’s drinks.

“Hi. I was gone for like, ten minutes. But hi.” He laughed, in a good mood today despite the early flight, and returned to Brendon’s side until he slid in across from him at the booth. “You okay bein’ out?” He asked Brendon lightly, shooting his straw wrapper at him while everyone arranged seats so that Tyler could run to the bathroom and Josh could grab another menu and set of utensils.

“I’m okay.” Brendon forced a smile, a little irritable though he knew Ryan wanted him there and anyway, it was one day. He didn’t need to cut off a social life completely. He kicked at Dallon’s feet under the table, and Dallon kicked back, smiling to himself.

Ryan watched everyone for a minute, Brendon smiling like a dork over his menu at his preoccupied boyfriend, and cleared his throat to get their attention. Dallon made a noise of acknowledgment but didn’t look up, busy trying to decide what he wanted, but Brendon caught it and turned to look at him, eyes lingering before he pat his thigh under the table for support. “I have something to tell you guys.” He said, sounding more nervous than he meant to, and at that Dallon glanced up.

“Is it that you’re buying all of us lunch? Because a bitch is poor and still needs to eat.” Tyler chimed, not catching the seriousness in his tone.

“I like guys.” He blurted, and everyone stopped, and Tyler dropped his menu. “I mean, I like girls too. But, um. Yeah. I...” He trailed off, looking away when Dallon tried to meet his eyes. Brendon smiled at him though he was shaking, more anxious than he’d let on, but Brendon reached out to take his hand. The hard part was over, he’d say if he could, except the hardest part was later, if he could just figure out what to say.

Josh was the first to ask, “So you’re bi?”

Ryan nodded timidly, and Tyler said, beaming, “I fucking knew it.”

Ryan’s eyebrows knit in worry and looked back to Brendon, in a slight panic. “Is it that obvious?!”

“No. He’s just good at reading people.” Brendon comforted, squeezing a cold hand before turned to look at Dallon for his opinion, the one Ryan sought the most.

Dallon didn’t know what to say, just watched Ryan look down at his lap nervously, so many things for years unsaid. He was quiet for a long while and Josh looked between them like Dallon was about to lurch over the table and attack him. But he didn’t, and he barely reacted, just said a soft, quiet, “I guess you’re not so ridiculously straight, huh?”

Ryan shook his head with a hint of a laugh and kept his gaze locked on his lap, where he’d begun to pick at his nails of his free hand. “No, I guess I’m not.”

“Well, I love you,” Dallon reached over the table to place his hand in front of Ryan, who offered his own to Dallon. It felt like two years prior except Dallon was less confused, less angry, just a little taken aback because they’d talked about this. Exhausted it, really. When Ryan slipped his hand into Dallon’s, the boy added, “just, like, don’t like me.”

“Dallon, man.” Josh chimed in disappointment, kicking his foot underneath the table despite the truths he knew. Dallon put his hands up in his defense, history should never repeat itself, and Ryan shook his head. That was a road they didn’t want to take again.

“Please, Dal, you’re not my type.” Ryan returned, all playing and no honesty to it.

“And what’s your type?” He shot back.

Ryan pouted, faking despondency but just a little truthful. “Unattainable.”

Dallon laughed, pulling his hand away and gesturing to Brendon. “I have a boyfriend! How am I attainable?!”

“Dal, come on.” He said a little too seriously, and Dallon gave him a look before he added, “I mean, we’ve been friends since like, the womb. We know each other so well, if Brendon didn’t exist you and I would probably already be married. Stop kidding yourself. And besides, look at me. If you knew, man.” He added, overcompensating. Dallon nodded, wondering if maybe everything they had talked about once upon a time was for naught.

“Yeah, you’re right. Hit the road, Bren.” He nodded his head toward the window and Brendon kicked Dallon’s leg under the table.

“Hey!” He laughed, reaching out to wrap a hand around Ryan’s upper arm possessively. “No. If anything, we share.”

“Can I just say that I’m feeling really neglected right now?” Tyler chimed from across the table. Josh reached out to grab his hand, they didn't need them anyway, and in turn Brendon leaned his head on Ryan's shoulder.

And Ryan smiled, rubbed Brendon’s upper arm, but his eyes were on Dallon’s. Dallon stared back at him, an unreadable look in his eye, before Ryan asked, “Can I talk to you? Alone?”

Dallon raised his eyebrows at his effrontery but looked down at the table, nodding the affirmative. “Yeah.” He nudged Josh in the side, so he and Tyler scooted out of the booth to let him go. Ryan pat Brendon’s arm to tell him he’d be right back before he got up, and they stood awkwardly at the end of the table before Dallon muttered something incomprehensible with a gesture to the bathroom.

As soon as they had disappeared, Brendon glanced across the table at Tyler, who shrugged, and a very awkward looking Josh. “What was that about?”

Josh shook his head and took the straw of his drink into his mouth, bristling away from the confused boy. “Ask Dallon.”

Brendon looked toward the closed bathroom door across the room. “Josh-“

“Not my place.” He said. Brendon glanced at Tyler again, wondered if everybody knew just about everything he didn’t, but Tyler shrugged too, raising his eyebrows like he had no idea.

It felt like forever. And maybe it was, because Brendon was starting to tune out Tyler and Josh and let his mind wander until the bathroom door opened and they returned, tears reminiscent on both of their cheeks though no one mentioned it. Dallon slid back into his seat and went to kick at Brendon’s foot under the table, smiling playfully when he captured one of Brendon’s feet in between both of his own. There were things about Dallon that he didn’t know, things he felt like he should.

"Did you know?" Dallon asked vaguely after lunch as he stuck the key in the ignition. Brendon glanced up at him, watching his festively red and green painted nails twist the keys and rev up the engine. He wasn't mad. He was just... in shock, maybe.

"He told me yesterday. He was really nervous to tell you and Josh." Brendon answered truthfully. When Dallon looked at him, he added, "I don't know why. I mean, he knew that you would be accepting and everything, he had no reason to be scared. I told him that. But you know how he is. He doesn't show it, but he cares what people think. Especially you and Josh. He cares what you guys think the most."

And it was true, because Brendon had tried to get into Ryan's head and figure out his logic. But the truth was that coming out was kind of scary, he'd be the first to say it. Coming out to the person you had known all your life was even scarier. And Dallon knew it too, because for him it was just as strange, in the midst of the most confusing time in his life. Somewhere between railroad tracks and linoleum floors, Dallon had spit it out with blood after a punch in the face in the middle of a fight. Somewhere between losing everything, Dallon had lost his secrets too.

"Look at you, being a little psychoanalytic." He cooed, and Brendon smiled. "No, I mean, I'm not like, mad or anything. I just feel like I would have known. Ryan's been my best friend since the womb. There was just... there was kind of a lot of drama between us for a while. We have a history. But I guess people change and things change and... I don't know. I love him and I always have and I always will. It’s just another person to be proud of. Just another person to feel like I can connect with. I couldn't connect with him on this certain level before, you know? It was like our friendship kind of... suffered. Not just because he wasn’t gay, but, well. It’s a long story. It’s just easy to talk to people who know where you’re coming from."

"Yeah, I get it." And he did. Because sometimes Brendon felt like talking to Tyler or Dallon was so much easier than talking to his family. Because he knew they listened, he knew they cared, but he knew they wouldn't understand. There was a level of understanding that came with his sexuality, and it felt like a secret only a select few were in on. "You'd be the worst gay person ever if you were against your best friend liking guys. Seriously." Brendon scoffed and turned to look at Dallon out of the corner of his eye, smiling jovially at himself. "Just saying."

“I’d never be against him liking guys. It’s just...” He sighed as he pulled out of the parking spot. “It’s really complicated.”

Brendon turned in the passenger seat to face him, intrigued. “How so?”

But Dallon shook his head as if to say no goddamn way, pulling out into the street without a single glance at his curious boyfriend. “That’s not something you should know.”

“I’m your boyfriend. It is too something I should know!” Brendon protested, but it was fruitless. Dallon just shook his head again, reluctance clear in his gaze, but Brendon smacked his arm insistently. “Dal, come on! You can trust me.”

“Fine. Fuck,” Dallon sighed, but his gaze never met Brendon’s. Instead, he stuck out his pinky and insisted, “promise you won’t make a big deal out of it. Cause it’s not a big deal anymore.”

Brendon linked his pinky with Dallon’s. “Pinky swear. Now c’mon, tell me.”

Dallon shook his head at himself like he knew he would regret it and clucked his tongue idly. “Um, you know how I mentioned once that I had a dumb little friend crush when I came out?” Brendon nodded, humming the affirmative, and Dallon looked like he’d rather be anywhere but there. “Yeah, um. That...”

He paused for a second, and Brendon’s eyes flickered across his face while gears turned in his mind. Quietly, he asked, “Ryan?” And hesitantly, Dallon nodded, and Brendon shifted in his seat awkwardly. So was he just some rebound or something? They had been close for years and Dallon mentioned his crush, a friend, something that never happened. Shouldn’t he have known?

“It... wasn’t really a dumb little thing. I mean, it was dumb, it was so dumb, but... I liked him so much, Bren.” He tilted his head back against the seat with a sigh, and Brendon tensed up a little when Dallon’s eyes met his own. “I realized that for a long time I confused our platonic love for romantic love, and that was my problem. He was there for me and I needed that. And I realized it in eighth grade, going into freshman year, when it was bad. I realized I liked boys, and then my dad died, and I needed to cling to someone and kind of, like, replace this void in me. I thought he would do that, I guess. It’s, um. It’s hard to explain. But this was when I was confused and coming to terms with my sexuality, which at that point was kind of a moving target, and you know. He was my best friend. It was easy to think that I could have feelings for my best friend.”

“So what happened?”

Dallon shrugged like none of it mattered anymore, because it didn’t. He was bringing up old versions of him that didn’t exist anymore. “Nothing. He was straight. I was lonely. And for months, Brendon, we were hardly friends. Years. It wasn’t because of him, or him not liking me. It was because I was depressed and bitter and had horrible coping mechanisms and I wasn’t taking it as sorry, I don’t have feelings for you. I was taking it as a rejection, like I wasn’t good enough. I already hated myself and that hurt, you know?” Silently, Brendon nodded. He knew. “So there were periods of time where we didn’t talk, and I snapped at him a lot, and, y’know. I resented him. I shouldn’t have and I don’t now and we joke about it because I’m happy and secure now, but back then it was bad. It just... it was kind of a period in my life where I was confused and my father died and I needed comfort.”

Brendon pulled a knee to his chest and rested his chin on it, wracking his brain for any notable interactions that seemed to reveal some sort of unspoken history between them. It couldn’t have been bad after he and Dallon became close, but... Brendon never knew. “So he knew.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, he knew. Assumed it before I came out to him. And then shortly after I came out I tried to kill myself, and when I was in the psych ward he came to visit me and I told him how I felt. Like, for real. I’d never said it out loud before that. And things were bad for a while, I was always fighting with him and ignoring him and at the time I just didn’t want to deal with him, you know? I didn’t wanna deal with someone who basically rejected me. And it was messy, he and I, we just... there were a few times where I thought it would be something. Mixed signals. More than that. Because I kissed him a few times, and sometimes he kissed me back, and we made out a few times, and...”

Brendon felt sick all of a sudden. “Did you have sex with him?”

“No, Bren. I told you I’d never done anything before. You were my first. I swear.” He promised, and Brendon nodded, feeling a little more at ease but still off-put. “But it could have been. I mean, there were times we almost did something but were interrupted, or one of us stopped it, but we were kids, Brendon. We were fifteen. Neither of us were ready. And we weren’t in a place to be doing that, anyway. I wasn’t in a place. I mean, I don’t know if... if I could. I don’t believe in having sex with someone unless there’s a chance you’re gonna marry them.”

“And that wasn’t him.”

“No. It wasn’t. All of it was for nothing. It was stupid because I wanted something he didn’t and he thought that it was going to make me hate him less but it was just... leading me on.”

Brendon’s stomach churned with anxiety. “Did he like... have feelings for you?”

Dallon shook his head. “Not in the way that I did. That was the problem. That’s what’s getting to me. It wasn’t him not liking guys. It was him not liking me. And I know it doesn’t matter anymore, because I’m not in that place now, but it still makes me wonder. And, y’know, eventually things got better, at some point the summer before junior year we sat down and had a conversation about it and it was honest and I got everything off my chest. And it was messy, Brendon, and scary, and stupid, but I liked him, and him not liking me back was the worst possible thing that could have happened when I needed a win.”

“I get that.” Brendon ran his hands up and down his legs. “Wanting to fill that void with someone that makes you happy. It’s just weird to picture you liking someone else. I mean, we’re... monumental.”

“I know.” Dallon put a hand out, rubbed at Brendon’s knee. Brendon bristled underneath him hesitantly, and Dallon could feel it because he looked at Brendon again and Brendon looked at him and it was scary, almost, that Brendon could feel so insecure in his relationship over nothing.

“I just wish you would have told me this a year ago.” Brendon admitted under his gaze. “I mean, you told me that you’ve kissed someone before and I was so curious and you never told me, I just... I feel like I would be less confused if you had. I’m not mad or anything, it’s just... weird, I guess. I’ve been friends with him this past year and I never knew any of this.”

“Because it’s awkward, Bren!” He laughed, and Brendon smiled at him, trying to process it. “How do you tell your boyfriend that you had a thing for your best friend that you used to occasionally kiss and have made out with but just for fun because he wasn’t even gay? I didn’t tell you because it’s stupid and meaningless and I regret all of that. I kept trying to make things work and they didn’t. I mean, I had my first kiss in a psych ward, Brendon.”

Brendon giggled, because it didn’t bother him so much as make him think. He could understand the appeal, the fear of losing your best friend when someone realized that something was worth more than the other. That feeling of wanting something to work so badly. “I mean, my first kiss was on the floor of your room, so.”

“People just don’t kiss me normally, I guess.” He shrugged, and Brendon did too, letting his smile linger until the honesty seeped deep into his veins.

“So... where does this leave us?” He asked, and Dallon’s eyebrows skipping high made him think that this wasn’t as big a deal as he thought it was.

“This leaves me with you, Brendon.” He said in disbelief, and Brendon swallowed, not knowing what to say. “Look. I’m surprised. And I’m upset. I’m gonna admit that. I’m upset that this didn’t happen three and a half years ago because I needed it then. I wanted it more than anything. But on the other hand there’s a reason for everything, and there’s a reason you and I started talking the month I got my shit together after having lost it for years. There are time slots for everything. If Ryan and I would have ever been anything, it would have been before you. My feelings for him don’t exist in the way that they did when we were fifteen. I don’t want this to complicate things. I’m proud of Ryan and honestly, Brendon, if he had known, then... we probably would have been together. But I don’t think we would have lasted. Ryan and I clash a lot.”

“So do we, Dallon.”

“But it’s different, Bren. I love you in a way that I don’t love anyone else.” He said, and Brendon turned to look at him. “It was weird. Because I saw you freshman year and I instantly liked you. And it wasn’t the same type of liking. I, like... I don’t know how to explain it. With Ryan, I just... needed someone there. He was there. It was easy to fall for someone who was there my whole life. But you were different. It’s like I looked at you and could see us. And I had never had a boyfriend before but everything I thought it would be, I wanted with you. It was like it was... purer, or something. I knew nothing about you but you were just there, like this ethereal thing I couldn’t touch. And I think all of my feelings toward him also came with this resentment because I was so upset that it tainted it.”

Brendon nodded, trying to relay all the information to his brain. Confusing platonic and romantic love. Resenting him for rejecting him and putting him in a more fragile place than before. Simple displacement. “So, I’m kinda confused. You were mad at him and still liked him during the time that you started liking me too?”

Dallon nodded. “In so many words, yes. But for those two years before he and I talked it out and you and I really met, I was just angry at him. Petty. Not taking my meds, not going to therapy, fighting with everyone all the time. I had no stable relationships, Brendon. None. And my life was hell, and it was like liking you was a whole different version of me. I was so warm and happy when I thought about you. I was happier thinking about a stranger than I was about my friends.”

Brendon took his hand and played with his fingers aimlessly, didn’t want to picture Dallon in that place because it scared him. “It’s hard to believe. That you and Ryan weren’t friends at some point, I mean.”

“I know.” He sighed, reminiscing on all the wrong things. “It was bad, Bren. I was scared, because me fucking up was hurting our friendship. And I don’t know why I let it get that bad, but, God, it was two years. Two years is a long time to hate your friends and your family. I just wanted to run away and live in the middle of the woods without ever speaking to anyone ever again.”

Two years. Two years was a very, very long time. “I can’t believe you were going through all that and I never knew. I mean, I know we bumped into each other all the time, and we talked and like, whatever, but I didn’t think it was that bad. I thought it was just high school angst.”

“Honestly, I acted okay around everyone back then. Nobody was allowed to know I had feelings. I bottled everything up. And now, Bren, I hate talking about it because it ruined my life for a long time. I mean, now we joke about it but that’s different than sitting there and thinking about how I almost destroyed my longest friendship because I was upset about something I wasn’t even sure I wanted. And I started taking my meds again, and I went to a few more therapy sessions, and I knew it wasn’t worth ruining a friendship over. When junior year started I went in with a whole new mindset. I wanted to be mature. Have actual goals and try not to fuck up everything. Things got normal again, somehow.”

“Ryan told me that he was scared you’d be mad at him. Because of your history.” Brendon remembered suddenly. “When he came out to me. He said you have a weird history and it was a long story but he thought that him coming out would bring up old stuff you didn’t wanna bring up. Is this, like, that history?”

“That would be the one.” Dallon hummed, turning onto a new street as Brendon let out a little humph, slightly confused but not necessarily angry. “Look, we just talked about it, and things are alright. I could never be mad at my best friend for coming to terms with who he is. Never.” He reached out to pat Brendon’s leg for collateral. “I know I don’t have to explain myself to you, because this was before I had even met you so it’s really just not important, but for your peace of mind I’ll tell you that we’re just friends, whatever feelings I had for him ceased to exist after summer going into junior year and it was all in vain. And the second I met you, things changed. Things always changed so fast.”

“I get it.” Brendon picked up his hand to lace their fingers together, and Dallon tilted his head to smile at him.

“Look, Bren. Pasts are complicated. Don’t get caught up trying to figure them out.”

Brendon nodded, extending his fingers, would take it to heart if he didn’t know better. “But it’s weird, don’t you think? That we don’t know so much about each other. Like, sometimes it just crosses my mind that we don’t know everything about each other’s pasts.”

“Someday, we will. That stuff takes time. I’m sure you’ll get to know everything about me that matters. And even some stuff that doesn’t. Like this.” They exchanged glances, and Brendon couldn’t bother dwelling. It was forever ago. It was practically a different lifetime. A different Dallon. “I mean, I guess it was a critical point for my realization of liking boys but then again, it was so confusing and convoluted. I just hate thinking about it sometimes. I don’t know. You ever have weird crushes on friends that don’t actually ever mean anything?”

Brendon scoffed, and Dallon quirked an eyebrow with a hint of an amused smile. They really did have a lot to learn about each other. “No, I’ve only ever had one friend. And you’ve met Tyler.”

“Yeah, I’ve met him.” He let out a humorous huff like he knew exactly what he meant. “I think I just always had issues with needing people to validate me. Because I felt like I wasn’t enough so I always flocked toward people who made me feel comfortable and safe. People who viewed me highly. Probably why I like you.” He dipped his head to give Brendon a suggestive look, one that made his skin prickle with fascination. “You were always so nice to me. I never wanted games or a pursuit. I just wanted something I was comfortable with. I was comfortable with you immediately.”

“I feel the same way,” Brendon added, surprised in himself for saying so. But it made total sense. For years he was scared of everything and everyone, he lied awake at night wondering if it would ever be him. If he would be the one to fall madly in love because what if something happened? What if he had to be open and real and what if he couldn’t hide forever? That would never bode well for him.

But things changed, like Dallon said. Things always changed. Over the course of the year he found himself changing and changing and coming around full circle, to where he was scared again. And that part was the worst, that he had a taste of a world he wasn’t scared of until all of a sudden it all came rushing back. Like living your whole life trapped only to take one step out on the fresh grass, feel the breeze on your skin, and then be yanked right back inside.

He didn’t want to chase things that didn’t want to be caught. He wanted a fairytale moment, love at first sight. It had always been in the cards for him.

“Sometimes I feel like you’re my destiny,” Dallon said. Brendon looked at him again, heartbeat loud in his chest in the wake of a confession, and Dallon asked, “hey, wanna go get macarons?”

Brendon nodded, speechless somehow. “Mhm.”

Dallon’s lips curled up in a smile and he turned again, onto a road that Brendon had found himself lost on with Dallon once upon a time, back before he taught him love. Brendon couldn’t tell if he had smiled back or not, everything was so fleeting, but he turned to face the road again, anyway. He didn’t need that chase. He had been chasing for far too long.

Some things, he just preferred to let happen.

* * *

There was a snow globe on Ryan’s bookshelf, right beside his eighth-grade yearbook and a painting Dallon had made him for his birthday one year, on the other side of a frame of the three of them, about a year younger and more bright eyed than they were then. There was a little white building inside of the glass dome, a church, something from Salt Lake City, Dallon had given it to him once when they were younger, when Dallon thought the prospect of traveling a state over was entirely unique and something worth souvenirs.

“Dallon.”

Dallon glanced up and Ryan leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms over his chest accusatorially and popping out a hip in what looked like an invite, if Dallon didn’t know better. He forced a smile and didn’t bother with a greeting, they’d spent most of the day together anyway, and turned back to the bookshelf, watching the snow globe though it hadn’t moved from its place.

“You know, Juliette is pretty moody that you don’t wanna be at her party right now.” Ryan added from the doorway, and Dallon looked at him again, watching the smile on his face become a smirk as if to say he was just teasing, though Dallon knew of its honesty. And he was sure under other circumstances he wouldn’t mind being around the balloons and the cake and the party favors but tonight he just didn’t feel up to it.

“Tell her I’m sorry. Just not up to it right now.” He shrugged, and Ryan understood, nodding as he stood up straight.

Extending his arms in a wide gesture, he said, “So you seek refuge in the cave.”

“You have posters of the Beatles. This is not a cave.” Dallon retorted and Ryan half smiled, closing the door behind him softly and making his way further into the room. “There’s a reason I don’t have birthday parties.”

“Because people are annoying.” Ryan concluded, falling back on his bed beside him. Dallon nodded, running his hands over his thighs aimlessly. He had no problems with Ryan’s sister but a congregation of eleven-year-old girls was another thing. “Whatcha doin’, anyway?”

“Looking at that snow globe. I remember when I got it for you.” He pointed at it and Ryan sat up on his elbows, eyes following Dallon’s finger to the memento. “I was like, ten, and my parents and I visited the headquarters of the church of Latter Day Saints. I was so excited.” He laughed, it felt like ages ago, because it was. Five years was a long time. Like a lifetime. “It was stupid because you were never religious so you didn’t really care about any of that stuff. But I was so excited, Ryan, weirdly excited for a ten-year-old going to church. And I knew you didn’t care but I got you that snow globe anyway.”

“I still loved it because it was from you,” Ryan said quietly.

Dallon turned to look at him, smiling despite himself. “It’s crazy how religious I was a year ago.” He whispered in thought, picturing a ten-year-old him running with his camera to the tall building touching the sky, so big to a ten-year-old, so amazing, just a church housing a God he wasn’t sure he even believed in anymore. “I used to pray every day. Before bed, before every meal, I’d literally have a bowl of chips and pray, Ryan.” He laughed and Ryan did too, because he knew. “Now I don’t feel that. That connection. I feel... let down. Betrayed, almost.”

Ryan reached out to nudge him in the side. “You know, usually people turn to God in their time of need.”

“I did that. He wasn’t there.” Dallon shrugged, leaning back on his elbows with a sigh. “It’s just weird because I feel so different than I was six months ago. Like, bad different. Lost different. Lonely different.”

“You’re not alone, you know.” Ryan said honestly, and Dallon shifted onto his side.

“Alone and lonely are different.” Dallon reminded him, something he had learned in the months where people tried and he pushed them away, trying over and over again to make sense of a world where nobody he wanted was there. Alone and lonely were different. Sometimes he felt like he was both.

“I don’t think you should be lonely, either.” Ryan whispered, breathing shallow as their eyes traced each other over and over, trying to find reasons not to. And there were so many but Dallon didn’t care, because no one was pushing him away, and Ryan lost the ability for words, anyway, and they stared at each other as Dallon shifted, hovering above him, and never broke their gaze.

Dallon leaned down, hesitant, lips parted in question, until Ryan reached up to wrap a hand around the back of his neck slowly, meeting him in the middle. Dallon sighed, confused but pleasantly so, placing a hand on the side of his neck and tilting his own to accommodate. Ryan crawled back to lay properly on his bed and Dallon followed, holding the back of his head gently as he pressed down and Ryan arched upwards, hooking his ankle around Dallon’s and pulling him closer.

And there were only so many things Dallon could think, like how wrong this was, and Ryan telling him that they couldn’t be together, and himself not caring because he wasn’t going to take things for granted. He taught himself how to let his mouth move, following the other’s motions, tangling fingers in brown hair as Ryan did the same and pulled him closer, desperate, as if the words we can’t do this weren’t tattooed on his lips after having spoken them a thousand times.

Dallon pulled away to breathe but Ryan pulled him back, tightening his fingers in his hair so hard it made Dallon gasp, pressing his body closer as they kissed. Dallon knew in the back of his mind, heard the words screaming in his ear as lips bruised against his own, but he didn’t care, he didn’t care, he swore he didn’t care. He couldn’t be blamed for Ryan’s mixed feelings and mistakes that weren’t mistakes to him, just good accidents.

Ryan’s hand gripped Dallon’s waist hard and he dipped his fingertips under his shirt as Dallon’s body moved like fluid against his own, adopting the feeling of his mouth on his own quickly as they kissed. Words died in Dallon’s throat as he swallowed them down with his air, not bothering to breathe because it wasn’t like this was real, anyway. He guided Ryan’s head against his own, breathing heavy out of his nose as their heads tilted, and Dallon tugged at his shirt, desperate.

“Ryan!” Someone called from downstairs and Ryan jolted underneath him, eyes snapping open to meet widened blue ones. They trained on each other, unmoving. “Cake!”

“We, um.” Ryan swallowed, throat bobbing as Dallon breathed heavy above him, breath hot on red bitten lips. “We should go down. Downstairs, I mean.”

Dallon opened his mouth but no words came out, wanting to scream but staring at him until Ryan escaped from under him and disappeared from the room without another word, leaving Dallon half laying on his bed alone, wondering why everything always went so wrong. He stared after him and then at the snow globe again, and maybe everything lost its newness at some point. Maybe everything fell out of line.

Dallon was still that way after so many years, confused and awkward and trying to find meaning in places there wasn’t any. Except now there wasn’t anything to find meaning in, because he knew it all. He never thought he would miss that.

“Hey, Bren?” Dallon looked up from his notebook and Brendon hummed, playing around with his phone aimlessly because he had nothing better to do. “I’m sorry that I don’t tell you everything about my past.”

Brendon looked up, eyebrows furrowed, and dropped his phone on the mattress as he crawled over to him, closing his notebook over his fingers and shaking his head. “There are things that you don’t know about me either, Dallon, it’s okay.”

“But I know it bothers you, Bren, and I don’t want you to worry. Not about me and Ryan, and not about anything else that happened before you. Because I’m so sick of living in the past.” He wrapped his arms around Brendon’s waist. “And I want you to get that I’m not good at opening up. And I want to, and I’m gonna try, and I value you and I respect you and I want us to be okay, I-“

“Hey, take a breath, Dal, c’mon.” Brendon laughed, wrapping both arms around his neck in a hug as Dallon held him close, distraught. “I get it. I’ll know everything when you want me to. There’s no rush, I’m not upset. And I know you’re mine, relax.” He kissed his lips and Dallon’s eyes lingered on his own, reading things he didn’t say. “You seem stressed about me knowing about you and Ryan. And you shouldn’t be. I like Ryan, and I know you’re friends. I’m not a jealous boyfriend type. Trust me.”

“I trust you.” Dallon kissed him again, harder this time and leaving a smile on Brendon’s face. “Can I ask you something?” He added apprehensively and Brendon nodded, running a hand down his arm. “When was the last time you went to church?”

Brendon raised his eyebrows, not expecting it but not exactly surprised. It had been a long time coming, hadn’t it? You could only go so long without talking about religion in a relationship where both halves were raised in the church. “I stopped going regularly when I started getting scared of everything. I was really young, and I don’t really remember it. I went a few times since then, like, after I had those therapy sessions and stuff, but now my family doesn’t go much anymore, I guess we all got too busy or preoccupied, and my siblings don’t really believe in it either. Why do you ask?”

Dallon shrugged one shoulder, tilting his head when Brendon traced his jawline. “I was just thinking about how when I was younger, I loved going to church. I’ve gone a few times after my dad died but it wasn’t the same after that. Now I just wonder if maybe I should go back. I miss it.”

Brendon nodded slowly. “Do you still consider yourself religious?”

Dallon nodded too, tucking some hair behind Brendon’s ear just to have something to do with his hand. “Yeah. Of course. A lot more than I was after it happened. I still practice and everything, I just don’t go to church as much as I would like to. It kinda sucks. But I think next Sunday I’ll go back. Because I really do miss it.”

“I support that, then.” Brendon smiled like it wasn’t as big of a deal as it was, but to him it wasn’t. Brendon hadn’t been to church because he didn’t know if he believed anymore but Dallon hadn’t gone because he was scared to go back. And it wasn’t as simple as to say that, because the words had been lost on him for years. “What’s got you thinking about this all of a sudden?”

“Um, I don't know. I’ve been thinking about everything that happened after my dad died. How I stopped going to church. And I think it would be good for me to go back. Find who I was before everything.”

“Except with me this time.” Brendon tapped his chin playfully and Dallon knew that that was the best part, loving somebody who loved him back just as much. He ran a hand up his back and stopped at his shoulder, feeling Brendon’s shirt under his hand and remembering that this was what it felt like to have something he treasured.

“You don’t know how happy I am to have you right now, Bren. All the time, but... right now especially.”

“I know.” Brendon bumped his nose against Dallon’s and pressed their lips together, gentler than before and reading something softer. “Even if you think I don’t. Because I really, really do.”

“Yeah, I figure.” Dallon half smiled and then again, things weren’t as complicated anymore. Brendon made them simpler. “I think I’m gonna try to change a little this year.” He decided, like he were setting it in stone, because things could use a little remedying.

Change. That sounded like a wonderful idea. “You know, I think I will too.”


	41. Chapter 40: September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A past chapter! These are my favorite ones to write so I hope ya'll enjoy it! Many more to come!

Dallon Weekes kept track of things in a timeline. September of his freshman year, he saw this boy. A boy, across the room, staring at the ground as the kid he was with made conversation with some overzealous junior with a red plastic cup in his hand. Some stupid party, Dallon told himself he'd never go to a party but Ryan dragged him there. He let himself be fooled by those eyes again. Those mixed messages.

They couldn't be together. He didn't feel the same way. Dallon let himself think of other options.

He wasn't boy crazed. He just... wanted to feel like someone loved him. He had a lot of love in him, bottled up from a young age, collected from fairytales and love notes his father sent his mother and stories she told him once he'd learned all the words to the storybooks. He wanted to find that kind of love too. Call him naive, but he thought he could find it in all these places. It was just blind hope.

Three weeks into September, he bumped into a boy in the middle of the hallway. A boy he had been seeking out for weeks, looking at his Instagram for photos though he didn't have many friends. He tried to keep off of Facebook, Twitter, had nothing to say to strangers, but he had a big presence. A clumsy presence, having tripped into classrooms and almost broken his glasses once or twice, and that was just the first couple of weeks.

And then he was tripping into Dallon, and Dallon didn't know what to say.

October of freshman year, the same boy smiled at him when they passed again in the hallway, not having talked since the incident but at least they knew each other's names. This was important, this smile, it was a piece of hope smile, a maybe things will be okay smile, a smile of potential. Brendon ducked his head again, scurrying off to class with red cheeks while Dallon smiled to himself.

November of freshman year, he kissed a boy who let him though over and over he swore they couldn't, but he was too scared to make new connections and find new potential because why would he try when they had so much history? "This isn't gonna end well," Ryan whispered against his mouth, awkward hands fumbling and pulling at each other's hair, and maybe it was because they were prurient teenage boys, or maybe it was because there was something there, but they didn't stop.

December, and Dallon was telling his best friend that they weren't anymore, best friends, because it was for the best. He couldn't love someone who didn't love him back. He may as well not love him at all. And his best friend cried, but he walked away numb because he was used to not feeling anything, anyway. Condensation lingered on his fingertips, and the air bit when he walked home alone, leaving a mess and everyone to clean it up after him.

January, and he was returning to a school he felt unsafe in, hiding in the library during lunch because he didn't want to see his friends every day anymore. February, he was trying to move on from something that never really was, keeping his eyes on a different boy because there was no use chasing somebody who couldn't be caught. In March he promised himself he was done with them, and in April he came back because sometimes you need people around even though you all resent each other, because high school was brutal and everyone needed at least one person in their corner. May marked a year since the worst day of his life and sixteen since he'd been alive, and June he left that school for two months only to mute two numbers and avoid them until September rolled around again.

Routine returned and he never found solace in it. Smiling at a boy who barely knew his name from across the room, trying to mend one friendship while avoiding the other. In September Ryan got a girlfriend, this blonde in his math class who Dallon had the displeasure of meeting when she joined them for lunch twice a week, the other three spent with friends. He snapped at him more and more, he couldn't help it, he was just upset, he had the right to be, and Ryan cried when he got home, when Dallon didn't know, and Dallon went to the bathroom to cry or the back of the library or home, because he was alone wherever he went anyway.

Dallon stopped celebrating holidays because he had no friends and he had no father and his mother wouldn't look him in the eye.

In April he talked to Ryan for the first, real time in four months. He wasn't exactly trying to ignore him, it just kind of happened, but they talked, and he realized he'd ruined everything. It was an awkward catching up in the library because Ryan had a paper to print and he saw him there kind of thing. Ryan had a new girlfriend, he and the other had broken up a few months prior, and Dallon hadn't even known. That was how bad of a friend he was. Maybe they weren't even friends.

In August he apologized to Ryan because he had to. Because he didn't want to leave any loose ends. Ryan told him it was okay, reluctant but understanding; he just didn't understand why Dallon was apologizing after so long. Dallon didn't quite understand it either, but he had a plan, kind of, maybe, a plan that he followed through with only halfway before he realized that maybe he could try again.

A million apologies followed, more honest ones, as there was only so much time he could spend hating his friends before he remembered that he needed them. It was true what they said, there's always sunshine after rain, but Dallon Weekes was no sunshine. Not for a while, and not even then, just simply making amends for past mistakes as they had consumed him once so evilly, so viscerally, so fully that they left no room for remedy.

But September of freshman year. After a month in a psych ward and a month of praying to a God he wasn't sure he believed in anymore, it was September of freshman year. He wasn't happy, and he wasn't excited, and he was dragged to a party and kissed his best friend on the walk there, awkward on the corner of the mouth, a maybe later kiss, as they walked up the lawn. Ryan went off to dance with some girl in short shorts, Josh went to get a drink in the kitchen, and Dallon sat alone on a stranger's couch, staring at this boy from across the room.

Dallon Weekes was in limbo then, a mess trying not to be, but there was nothing wrong with keeping an eye out.

* * *

A fifteen-year-old Dallon was walking through the halls with a steady grip on his notebook from his last class, so busy writing things no one would ever read as a lesson on the ecosystem in biology went right over his head. Down the hall a fourteen-year-old Brendon Urie was walking with his head down because this past month he learned that that was probably for the best, anyway; avoiding eye contact might be a good idea for the next four years. For weeks they’d been trying to catch sight of one another in the cafeteria or across the room in shared classes, too afraid to say hello, until they collided. Quite literally, as everything in Brendon’s arms fell to the ground and Dallon’s notebook did too.

“I am so sorry.” Dallon apologized, looking up at him in distress, and only then did he realize that it was Brendon Urie staring back at him, eyes wide like he were scared for some reason.

“Um.” Brendon bent down to grab his phone from the ground and gathered his notebooks to scoop them back into his arms, he knew he had to invest in a bigger backpack. “No, it’s okay. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“No.” Dallon refuted, crouching down to help. His eyes wandered to his own notebook and he grabbed at the paper that had fallen out of it like it were on fire. Brendon watched his hand, curious like he always was, and stood up with his books stacked neatly in his arms. Dallon followed, clutching the crumpled paper in his fist, eyes wide at the shattered phone in Brendon’s arms. “Did I-“

“No.” Brendon interrupted quickly, shaking his head. “No, it was already broken. I promise.” He laughed awkwardly, glad he hadn’t gotten it fixed yet because that was pretty pricey and his mom didn’t want him to blow all of his money on it.

“Okay. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m gonna, uh.” He pointed a thumb somewhere behind him and Brendon nodded in agreement, the bell was about to ring and he didn’t want to be late.

“Yeah. Um. Bye.” Brendon shifted his weight awkwardly, burning red, and they said sorry in unison and Dallon covered his face with his hands once he had turned the corner, extremities shaking though he couldn’t figure out why.

Dallon pushed through the door in front of him without knocking and Ryan turned in his desk chair, not surprised since Dallon never knocked. He plopped down on his bed and Ryan clucked his tongue, smiling, his mother must had let him in and knowing her, badgered him about telling her all about his first month of school.

"Where did you go after school today? I didn't see you." He pushed his laptop shut and Dallon looked up at him, propping himself up on his elbows.

"There's a boy." Dallon said simply, and it was enough for Ryan to get up and join him on the bed, curious because Dallon hadn't said anything for weeks. It wasn't the answer to his question but it was answer enough, and Dallon sat up when Ryan sat down. "I saw him at that back to school party that you dragged me to. I found his Instagram, and I've been trying to talk to him at school for weeks and today I bumped into him. Literally, in the middle of the hallway, and we dropped everything and it was like it was in the movies. Like this stupid cliché. His name is Brendon Urie."

"Let me see." Ryan requested, intrigued if only because maybe Dallon would let some other things go. Dallon put up a finger to tell him to wait and Ryan sat beside him, watching him type the name in his search bar until his account popped up. Brendon Urie. He would remember that name. "Oh, yeah, I know him. He's in my English class. He's cute."

"He's gorgeous, Ryan." Dallon sighed, falling on his back. He was, in this unconventional, awkward, freshman in high school kind of way, with dumb messy hair and glasses and braces that he'd get off in a month's time, as his orthodontist promised. Dallon stared at the only photo he had of himself on his page, from a day he was feeling bold, a right squinted eye and a hopeful smile like as he'd taken it he hoped no one would judge him.

"Have you talked to him?"

"For a second. I bumped into him and we just apologized and walked away but I... I don't know. I like him, I think. And I wanna talk to him."

"I think you should. It might be good for you." Ryan took Dallon's phone, busying himself in looking through Brendon Urie's tagged photos, only a few because not many people knew him and the boy had half the school blocked, anyway.

Dallon nudged at his side with his foot, shrugging in agreement. "I know. You're right."

Ryan smiled like he knew it, because he did. Ryan had always had a good head on his shoulders, trying to decipher what and what not to do, though for a while that line blurred. The first time was just a pity kiss, in front of an elevator in a psych ward saying goodbye to someone he never wanted to lose. And then it just... it kept happening, and happening, and what and what not to do became mixed like bad paint from the drug store because it was all a gray area. Dallon had blamed him and Ryan had blamed himself too; he thought he was doing the right thing. He thought it was what Dallon needed.

Dal: are you guys coming over tonight to watch a movie while my mom isn't home?? she doesn't want me home alone right now

Josh: I can't I have a paper to finish by tonight at midnight :(

Ryan: if you want me to I will

Dal: sure

The thing was, Dallon thought it was what he needed too. He hadn't realized until months after it ended that it wasn't, that it hurt him more than it had helped, but things were up in the air. There were smiles in the hallway between a boy he'd spoken to once or twice and then there was Ryan, immediate comfort, not someone he thought he had to chase, not someone he had to befriend first because he was already there. Dallon was bad at making friends. Brendon Urie was just this precious pipe dream. So was Ryan, but he never thought he would be.

Dallon watched the movie play in front of him, and Ryan promised it would be interesting but they had different definitions of interesting. They sat thigh to thigh, feet kicked up on the table, nudging each other's socked foot every minute or two just because. There were reasons that the two of them hadn't hung out alone much since that summer, this unidentified tension hanging between them. That Ryan was constantly on edge and Dallon was trying to get him off of it.

"Okay, you're right, this isn't as good as I thought it was a year ago." Ryan laughed, reaching over Dallon's leg to grab at the remote but letting his hand linger. Slowly Dallon placed a hand over his, looking up to meet his eyes, and Ryan stared back at him, and Dallon leaned in to kiss him because there was nothing better to do, anyway.

Ryan shifted, tilting his head, and Dallon tilted the other way until they fit. It had become routine, trying to make this fit, trying to make it make sense, but it didn't. It never had. Dallon was determined, though, and Ryan didn't know how to stop, if he even wanted to, if he had that willpower or just wished he did. Dallon's hand held his waist and Ryan inched closer, closer, until he suddenly pulled away, realizing that he couldn't keep getting stuck in a loop like this.

He breathed heavy against Dallon's lips, and Dallon chased them. "Hey, what about Brendon?" He asked quietly, pulling his hands away, suddenly timid.

Dallon pulled away, eyebrows furrowed and searching his eyes skeptically. Brendon? Brendon Urie? "What about him?"

"Don't you, you know." Ryan waved his hands around awkwardly, flustered, and wouldn't meet his eyes. "Don't you like him?"

Dallon moved away from him, tilting his head in confusion. That didn't make any sense. Who was talking about Brendon? He was just some boy Dallon knew nothing about. He was just some dream. "I mean, yeah, but why does that matter? I don't know him. I don't even know if he likes guys. I don't even think he knows my name."

"I just..." Ryan squirmed uncomfortably, never having been one for confrontation. "I thought that this wasn't gonna be a thing anymore."

"What are you talking about?" Dallon asked, and he suddenly felt like he was being tricked. Like this was just a cop out. "I told you about Brendon months ago, Ryan. We've kissed since then. We made out a few weeks ago. This doesn't make sense."

"I know, but it was stupid, and we shouldn't have." He argued, and the look in his eye was desperate, finally having worked up the nerve to say it after not knowing how for so long.

"Wait." Dallon scooted back, putting his hands up because he didn't understand. Ryan didn't either: he was confused, and that was the problem. Dallon was too sure of himself. Ryan wasn't.

"We aren't together." Ryan interrupted, voice apologetic if Dallon cared to listen.

"I know that, but that doesn't mean we can't, like..." He gestured in between them, letting his words trail off. He couldn't be doing this right now. It wasn't fair.

"Yeah it does, Dal." Ryan ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head to himself and avoiding his eyes. Dallon was scary when he was mad. Ryan tried to avoid it for a reason. "I'm sorry. It does. I can't do this anymore. I thought I could, but this is too far, and it's too much, and I... I have to go." He got up suddenly, rushing to the door to pull his shoes on as Dallon followed, because he wasn't done. They weren't leaving anything unsaid.

"Why are you leading me on?" Dallon asked loudly and Ryan stopped, back facing him, and winced. He knew he was going to say it. It was only a matter of time before one of them mentioned it. He didn't know what to say, how to say it, just stared at the front door he'd seen a million times and wished that he had stopped this before it got this far.

Ryan turned around, an apology getting caught in his throat. "I didn't mean to." He admitted in a whisper, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"But you are, Ryan, so why?" He yelled, and Ryan shuddered. "Because I am so goddamn sick of thinking I'm in love with someone who's playing with my fucking feelings!"

"Because, Dallon." Ryan cried, wiping angry, apologetic tears off his cheeks. "Because. I don't know what to do."

Dallon's hands were shaking, tears filling his eyes. He thought that everything fell into place. "Tell me the truth!"

"You wouldn't let me!" Ryan yelled, and Dallon took a step back, offended though he was right. He was right. "When your best friend tries to kill himself you let him do what makes him happy. And I'm not saying it's your fault, I'm just... I liked kissing you. And I liked experimenting with you. But I'm not... I'm not ready for this. Whatever you want to be. I don't want a boyfriend. I don't even... I can't do this, Dallon. We can't do this."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I don't like you like that!" Ryan threw his hands up, brutally honest to a fault but he had spent months lying and he didn't want to anymore. "I don't like boys!"

Tears slid down Dallon's cheeks and he wiped them away quick. He hated feeling at war with him. He hated— he hated these lies. He knew how he felt. He couldn't lie to him. You can't kiss a boy like Ryan Ross kissed him and then claim that you don't have those feelings. "You are such a fucking coward."

"Then I'm a coward. Whatever. If you're gonna throw away our friendship because I won't fuck you then you have bigger problems, Dallon. I'm fucking done." He grabbed his jacket and shook his head, glaring daggers into ice blue eyes that glared right back. Dallon wasn't going to lose this time. He wasn't.

"Fuck you." He spat.

"Fuck you!" Ryan yelled, slamming the door behind him.

Dallon got good at avoiding his friends after that. It was just creeping into December, an unusual cold front coming in, and Dallon stopped showing up at lunch. He didn't have to. He wouldn't eat until he got home, he hated cafeteria food, and sometimes looking at the cute boy from across the room wasn't even worth it when Ryan talked to fill the silence. If he wasn't going to say what Dallon wanted to hear then there was no use in listening.

Brendon stepped quietly into the nurse's office, closing the door behind him gently because the room was almost serene. And when he turned to scribble his name down with his left hand because he was pretty sure the fuckers sprained his right one, he stopped in his footsteps, seeing a familiar boy with eyes softly closed sitting in the only nonvacant seat in the room, people never liked missing lunch for a trip to the nurse's office, but coincidentally Brendon had tripped on his way to the cafeteria because some guy thought it would just be so goddamn funny to make the nerdy freshman faceplant in front of everyone.

Brendon crossed the room and reached out to grab the pen from the clipboard, but it was stuck under the clip, and he tried to pull it out with one hand but it wouldn't budge. When he went to pull at it again Dallon jumped, and Brendon did too, and gave up because the pen was just too stubborn and it really didn't fucking matter, anyway.

"I'm sorry." Brendon apologized, shifting awkwardly and cradling his hand to his chest. "For, uh. Waking you?"

"I wasn't asleep. I was just, y'know." Dallon gestured to the vacant room. "I think they might be on their lunch break too. I've been here for a few minutes and no one has come out."

"Oh. Uh." Brendon looked around and then at the sign in sheet, grimacing almost because this day was just fucked.

"You need help?" Dallon offered. Brendon startled, like he hadn't expected somebody to be kind enough to help a boy with one functioning arm, and he nodded, grateful, while Dallon pulled the pen out from under the clip.

"Yeah, uh. Just write Brendon. B-R-E-N-D-O-N. They'll know."

"Sure." Dallon wrote down Brendon in the space beneath his name.

"I, uh. I tripped. I hurt my wrist. Thanks." Brendon gestured to his wrist and took the seat on the other side of the mini table, outstretching his legs and bumping his converse sneaker against Dallon's before he folded one leg over the other. "What are you, um."

Dallon looked at him for a second before he understood. "Oh. Nothing's wrong. I just. I didn't wanna sit with my friends at lunch and the library is closed today. I'm just... tired. I didn't feel like dealing with it. I don't sometimes, y'know?" He shrugged, looking at Brendon like he expected him to get it, somehow. They'd never really had a conversation but it felt normal, like they were friends or something, not just strangers who sometimes sat near each other in class.

"Yeah, I know." Brendon agreed with a quiet huff: he knew more than Dallon understood. "I know. I'm tired too. I feel like this... this keeps happening. Not this specifically, but, you know. Stuff. Throws me off my axis."

"I get it." Dallon said quietly, never having heard him say more than five words without stuttering. "I wonder if it's just a high schooler thing, or a freshman thing, or-"

"Or an us thing." Brendon said, and they both laughed quietly as if it were funny when the truth was, everyone was probably feeling the same way. It was just that not everyone had somebody to talk it through with.

The office door opened and a nurse stepped into the waiting room, not even bothering to look at the sign in sheet because there were only two of them. "Brendon! I see you come bearing one dysfunctional limb. C'mon, let me wrap that and get you some ice."

"Okay." Brendon forced a smile and uncrossed his legs, sighing from deep in his stomach as he pushed himself up. He gave Dallon one more smile and Dallon gave him one too, a thanks for keeping me company smile, a thanks for listening when no one else would smile, and Brendon didn't know how much it meant to him but then again, Dallon didn't either.

"I hope your wrist feels better." Dallon called as Brendon followed the nurse down a little hallway.

Brendon turned around to smile at him over his shoulder, in this way that made Dallon's stomach feel like liquid. "I hope you get some sleep."

Dallon smiled back, not quite knowing how to thank him, and watched him disappear into the closed off office where the door shut behind him, though his eyes didn't waver.

* * *

Dallon stared ahead of him for a long minute, poking at the torn straw wrapper on the table as Ryan took a seat across from him, feeling his own heart beat louder at the sight of him. Dallon didn’t meet his eyes, didn’t acknowledge his presence, because there was no point. Ryan barely acknowledged him these days, either.

“Hey.” Ryan said calculatedly, like each phoneme in the smallest word held caution. Rightfully so, because Dallon’s eyes moved from the wall to Ryan’s in an icy glare, narrow and cruel like he were disgusted by his very presence. And maybe he was, as far as Ryan knew. It had almost been a month. “It’s, um. It’s been a while.”

“Mm.” Dallon hummed, it had, a while since they’d talked, or not talked, since Dallon had had wrists caught in his grasp and a body pressed against the wall beneath him when they kissed not so innocently, since Dallon had taken a shot and Ryan had shot him down.

Ryan played with his hands awkwardly. He knew it would be awkward, it was like exes trying to talk again, only they weren’t exes. They weren’t, because Ryan never gave it a chance, and Dallon would never let him go if he did. “How was your Christmas?”

Dallon glared at him like it were the dumbest thing he’d ever said. “How do you think my Christmas was, Ryan?”

Ryan sighed, looking away and feeling so judged all of a sudden. “It was a stupid question.” He admitted, pulling away and breathing deep with regret. “I miss you, Dal.” He added, and Dallon knew he was going to say it because that was what Ryan did. He said shit like that after he pushed him away. He never had to push him away. He never had to tell him that it was all a mistake, or that they couldn’t do anything anymore, or that he wasn’t who Dallon thought he was. He could have kept on pretending. At least then he wasn’t hurting anybody but himself.

“I don’t think we should talk anymore.” Dallon said, voice monotone and eyes distant as Ryan looked up and raised his brows in confusion.

“You mean like, right now?” He asked, heat in his chest, all over, leaving it in his veins and shaking to his fingers.

“No, I mean forever. We shouldn’t talk.” Dallon repeated, and he said it with finality. He meant it. He was done.

Ryan stared at him in shock, unmoving, as Dallon stood up, moving seemingly in slow motion like a ghost. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. A tear slid down Ryan’s cheek and he pulled his chair out, breathing shaky as he went to follow, but Dallon didn’t startle, didn’t stop, didn’t care.

“Have a nice life, Ryan.” He added before he turned away, leaving a crumpled-up straw wrapper and a half-melted drink in his wake as tears met condensation on the wood of the table. He knew he had fucked up, but he didn’t know he fucked up that badly.

* * *

Brendon pushed through the door of the bathroom with tears in his eyes, it just wasn’t fair. It was the first day back but the boys in his history class thought it would be funny to make fun of him when he got one stupid answer wrong, it wasn’t his fault, it had been a week since he’d read that chapter. And it wasn’t his fault either that he was shorter than most of the girls in the grade, and that he liked his purple sweater the most, or that people just didn’t want to leave him alone.

So he closed the door behind him, a tear sliding down his cheek. And Dallon Weekes was standing alone at the sink, crying into his hand.

“We’ve only been here for six hours and you’re crying in the bathroom.” Brendon said quietly, and he didn’t know what to say but that probably wasn’t it, because Dallon looked at him with big eyes and covered his face with his hand. “Fuck.” He muttered under his breath, going to grab a paper towel and outstretching a hand to him. “I’m sorry. I’m not gonna judge you. I came in here to cry too.”

“Thanks.” Dallon accepted the paper towel and tore it in half, handing one back to Brendon. “Fuck. My friends just...” Dallon shook his head, sniffling, and wiped under his eyes. “Fuck. I don’t know. Sometimes I wanna bite their fucking heads off.” He sighed, turning away from the sink to lean against the wall. Brendon nodded, wiped his nose with the torn paper towel, as he watched Dallon glare at the ceiling like it was the one who had done him wrong. “Sorry. I know you didn’t ask.”

“I didn’t not ask.” Brendon shrugged, all of a sudden his problems felt so secondary. Dallon glanced at him, hiccupping from the tears, and Brendon forced a smile before he leaned against the wall too. “I hate this school.”

Dallon let out a distressed sigh. “They don’t even have private places to cry.”

“Right?!” Brendon laughed, wiping tears off of his cheeks before Dallon could look over and see. “I’m sorry your friends are making you cry in a gross school bathroom.”

“I’m sorry this school is making you cry in a gross school bathroom.” Dallon shrugged. At this point they had had a few conversations, met in the unlikeliest places and felt like kindred spirits in the way they always seemed to be trying to get away from everyone else. They didn’t even know if the other knew their names.

“Not the school. Just the people in it.” Brendon sighed, wiping his nose with the paper towel again when Dallon did the same. “Maybe you need new friends.”

“Maybe you need a new school.” Dallon figured, and Brendon laughed, nodding because if only it were that easy. “Maybe I do too. Sometimes I feel like the only person who feels like they don’t belong here.”

“You’re not.” Brendon shrugged, sniffling, and gestured to himself. Dallon nodded slowly, like he couldn’t believe Brendon Urie was talking to him, because he couldn’t. And he couldn’t believe that Brendon Urie wasn’t perfect and loved by everyone and happy, in the way Dallon wished he would be.

“Do you think that we’re like, aliens, Brendon?” Dallon asked, and Brendon looked up at him suddenly, couldn’t believe he even knew his name. Dallon looked at him too, running fingers through his hair, expecting him to get it. “That we’re from some other planet and we feel like we don’t belong here because we don’t? And, like, we just don’t know how to get back to our home planet?”

Brendon let himself smile, wiping his eyes and nodding, somebody finally understood how he felt. “Yeah, I do. And we’re, like, meant to find each other or something, other people like us. And that’s why we run into each other so often. Cause it’s the world giving us a sign.”

Dallon nodded, wiping his nose with the paper towel. “Small world.”

“Small school.” Brendon corrected, and he was right. Dallon huffed out a laugh as the bell rang to signal the end of the period. Dallon raised his eyebrows and balled up the paper towel in his hand, aiming for the trash and barely getting it in.

“Until next time.” Dallon shrugged and Brendon nodded, throwing his own paper towel away and following him to the door.

“Hey, Dallon?” Brendon peeped, and Dallon turned to look at him. “Don’t, um. Don’t cry in gross school bathrooms over your friends. They shouldn’t be making you feel this way. It’s always easier to try and fix things than to bottle it all up." He wiped his hands on his leggings. "And if that doesn’t work, well. You know where to find me.”

Dallon stared after him for a second, surprised: he would have never expected to get advice from Brendon Urie in a school bathroom. “You’re right.” He agreed, and the faintest smile met Brendon’s lips because he knew he would be. “And, um. Same with you. If you need someone to talk to. I hide at that table in the far back of the library almost every day at lunch.” He nodded his head goodbye, and Brendon nodded back, a thank you, a you’re welcome, a see you later.

They both ducked their heads, and he smiled at Dallon's back until he was gone.

* * *

It was a Thursday. Dallon was flipping through the math packet he had been assigned, due on Monday, trying to get a head start when quiet footsteps on the plush gray carpet of the library caught his attention. He glanced up and Brendon Urie forced a smile at him, cheeks red under black framed glasses, and Dallon meant to say hello but the word died in his throat.

The table in the far back of the library. That was what he had told him.

“Um, my friend isn’t here today.” He said quietly, missing a greeting though Dallon didn’t mind. “Can I sit here?”

Dallon nodded, taken aback. “Yeah.” He agreed, pulling his things closer to him and making space for his acquaintance at the opposite side of the table. Brendon smiled gratefully, like Dallon had saved his life, though he didn’t know then that he had. He took a seat, careful not to be too invasive, as he unzipped his bag and went to find his history homework.

And when Brendon glanced up at him again Dallon smiled too, because at least he wasn’t completely alone.

* * *

Four months later, Dallon was back to what he could constitute as normal. He knew he should have just stuck to his morals, lied, told them that he couldn't talk anymore. That was before Josh guilted him into coming back. He knew he shouldn't, but he did. Because he thought he could trick himself into thinking that things were normal.

Dallon glanced up at the same time that Brendon glanced down, and they exchanged smiles until Brendon went to take a seat at his table across the cafeteria. Josh was rambling about some movie he and Ryan saw over the weekend, as if that wasn't rubbing it in at all, but it wasn't his fault. He didn't want Dallon to feel left out. Dallon had spent the past year feeling left out.

"Is that Brendon Urie?" Ryan asked suddenly, interrupting some boring rant about something Dallon couldn't care less about, and Dallon shrugged as his eyes lingered on something much more interesting. "Dal, since when were you friends with Brendon Urie?"

Dallon turned to look at him, eyes as good as dead. "Since my other friends decided to neglect me and I needed someone to talk to that doesn't make me wanna commit. Again."

Ryan sat back in disbelief and Dallon rolled his eyes, looking away because he hated that look on his face. Josh stared at him too, in this way he never looked at Dallon, without pity, with disgust, maybe, but he didn't care anymore. He couldn't find it in him to.

"That's harsh." Josh said, hurt.

"Whatever." Dallon pushed his tray away and got up, shaking his head because he knew it was a fucking mistake. He never wanted to do this anyway. Josh was too nice, pity nice, and he just... he couldn't look Ryan in the eye anymore. "I don't even know why I agreed to this. I think you made it very clear how you feel about me."

"You're that petty?" Ryan asked, and Dallon would be shocked if he had any of that left in him. "You're throwing away a decade and a half long friendship because I won't fuck you?"

"You don't fucking get it." Dallon hissed, grabbing his bag from the floor and slinging it over his shoulder. He didn't need any of this, anyway, he didn't have to explain himself and apologize for his feelings. He told him he didn't want to be friends anymore. So why the hell did he keep coming back? "I don't wanna be friends. And you don't wanna be friends with me. You're trying to salvage something that's already dead."

"You are such a pretentious cunt, Dallon." Ryan accused, and it was like a smack in the face, and Dallon would punch him if he wanted to catch the attention and spend the day in the office. But he didn't, and he wouldn't, and he shook his head like the accusation was far off at all.

"And you're a scared, confused little boy." Dallon bit, and Ryan glared when Dallon turned to leave, tears welling up his eyes though he wouldn't cry.

He shook his head to himself, and he wouldn't cry.

* * *

Back before Dallon realized he needed people, he didn't know how to say it. Back when he thought having a boy in his bed was more important than having a best friend who cared about him since before they knew what caring was. Back when he realized that he couldn't put all of his weight on one person.

He made amends on a September morning, the first morning that he would apologize and mean it, the first morning of many where he started his vow to be a real, good person. The words I'm sorry somehow became tattooed on his lips, and I love you became platonic, and he said he was going to get better and he would.

It was the first day of junior year, and Dallon was staring at his mother from the passenger seat, promising to do better. He would. Because he was sick of being a liar. He was sick of having to be.

Dallon speed walked toward where Josh’s car was parked in the space after finally having been able to drive himself to school. He only had fifteen minutes to make it right, but he had years now, too, because he swore he wasn’t going anywhere. He promised. He didn’t wanna be there again. Ryan and Josh looked up at him when they saw him coming, apprehensive because they kind of thought Dallon would be branching out to find new friends this year. But he didn’t want new friends. He wanted to make amends with these ones.

He pulled Ryan into a hug unexpectedly and Ryan hugged back, confused as Dallon wouldn’t let him go. “What, Dal?”

“I’m sorry.” Dallon apologized, burying his face in his neck when Ryan stared at Josh over his shoulder in confusion. “I’m so sorry. I don’t wanna stop being your friend. And I don’t wanna resent you for something so stupid. You’re my best friend.” He pulled away. “You are so important to me, Ryan. I never meant to force you to do something you didn't want to do. I never wanted to try and be someone you didn't want me to be. I don't even know what I was thinking. I mean, I love you, but I don't want you to be my boyfriend. I wanna get my shit together and I wanna be with someone who wants to be with me. And I don't blame you for not being that person. I did, for way too long, and I don't anymore. I know I’ve been a bitch, and I’ve been insufferable and it would be understandable if you never wanted to talk to me again. But I’m sorry, and I know everything I’ve done is unforgivable, but I’m gonna do better. I promise. I’m going to church this weekend and I’m gonna try to find a way to make up for everything I’ve done. I know that’s, like, impossible, but-“

“I forgive you, Dallon.” Ryan interrupted, shaking his head like he just couldn’t believe he was still talking to him after everything. “Seriously. You’re my best friend too. And I don’t wanna lose you. I wanna fix this. I wanna go back to normal.”

“I do too.” Dallon whispered, letting a hand linger on his shoulder before he pulled away to envelop Josh in a hug too. “Thank you for being patient with me.”

“Sure, Dal.” Josh pat his back, pleasantly surprised, and Dallon was smiling when he pulled away, like a weight had been lifted.

"I'm gonna apologize more, and I'm gonna make up for it, but are we okay?" He asked, and they both nodded, and they meant it. They were okay. After years, they were okay. Or on the path to being okay, at least. “Okay. I’m gonna go get my schedule, I’m kinda late today, but I wanna have lunch with you guys. I wanna hear about your summers. I’ll see you later.” He waved, walked backwards until he bumped into somebody, but he turned and apologized and laughed back at his friends before he jogged up the front steps. Ryan and Josh exchanged looks, and Josh hugged Ryan when he saw the tears in his eyes, but it felt like the end of war.

And it had been, because that was when Dallon had changed, made that transition into not being okay to trying to be. When he remedied everything, stopped going to the library for lunch, told himself to get over whatever he had felt for Ryan because they were better off as friends, anyway. It hadn’t been easy but he had distractions, new fascinations, the right mind to realize not to ruin a good thing.

Dal: you guys Brendon Urie is in our history class

Ryan: that was fast

Dal: broadening my horizons!

Dal: so on a scale from one to ten how much do I look like I wanna bed him

Josh: oh my god

Ryan: whoosh

Dal: seriously I need to shift my focus you know?? like no offense but I can’t do what I’ve been doing the past few years I wanna be better

Ryan: well I support you then

Dal: good cause I need support I have kissed one too many straight boys and I don’t need that anymore

Ryan: I deserved that

Josh: day one of junior year and he’s already making changes :’)

Dal: positivity!

Ryan: well I don't know what brendon is but I don’t think he’s straight. I’ve heard a lot of rumors about him

Ryan: not that I believe everything I hear but

Dal: but he has a bad reputation. I know but I don’t think this boy could do anything with cruel intentions just look at him

Josh: true I’ve talked to his friend before and he mentioned that people just don't like him but he’s harmless

Josh: I think he’d be good for u

Ryan: I agree

Dal: you know what you’re right I need to turn over a new leaf

Dallon had this notebook that he brought everywhere, this one tucked underneath all his schoolbooks where he wrote about his life or his day or his friends or the cute boy he liked who sat behind him in history class as of the first day of school. And he spent one night in this notebook, scribbling down everything he needed to fix. Everything he'd spent years tearing apart. Bring flowers to his grave. Go to church. Make things right with your friends. Tell your mom you love her.

Because before he was okay he wasn't. Before he had this moral sense of right and wrong he didn't care about being a good son or friend or person. And it was selfish, and it was wrong, but when your entire world blows up in your face you're just going to seek shelter. And that was what he had done, when he grew into fifteen and sixteen and seventeen, except he locked everybody else out because there was only room for one.

But there were things he learned, real things, honest things, things he wouldn't have without this heartbreak. Without the lessons. Without being told no and having to realize that the world wasn't out to get him, only he was.

September of Junior year.

* * *

Dallon watched Ryan closely over his knees, each flicker of his eyes calculated while Ryan settled down against the wall. They hadn't spent any real time together in a while, save for a long apology Dallon gave before disappearing for the rest of the summer. It was awkward, and quiet, and Dallon had spent the past week apologizing but he felt like he had to until he felt things change.

"I feel like— like every time we hung out alone, we just kind of made out, so I don't really know what to do now." Dallon said, avoiding his gaze and looking at the poster on the wall behind him instead. Ryan laughed, like it wasn't a sore subject, and reached out to bump his fist against Dallon's gently. "I'm sorry."

"Stop being sorry, Dal, it's okay." Ryan assured him, and Dallon grimaced. He had two years’ worth of apologies to give him and he wasn't even close to done. "Seriously. I led you on. That was my fault. And you just... you had a lot of shit going on. I should have been more sympathetic."

"I shouldn't have like, tried to fuck you every time we talked." Dallon argued, and Ryan giggled when Dallon laughed because all of a sudden it sounded so ridiculous. "I think I was just being a teenage boy. I wasn't thinking. I don't want us to be more than this. I like being friends. I never realized how much I liked being friends."

"Dallon, I don't want you to think that just because I didn't want to date you means that I don't love you. I mean, I never wanted to ruin us. I was confused and trying not to hurt you more than you were, and it was fun, okay? Whatever we were. It was fun. But I don't have those feelings for you."

"I understand. I wouldn't have feelings for me either." He leaned his head against the wall and Ryan tsked, going to sit beside him and pressing their sides together. Dallon tilted his head to look at him, reminiscence in his eyes, and swallowed thickly. He didn't know how to apologize again. He just wanted to make things better.

"Dallon, it would be perfect if we could be together. Like, perfect. But when you've been friends your whole lives it's hard to go from that to being in a relationship. There's so much baggage." Ryan reached out to take his hand for collateral. "You deserve to be with someone who's a hundred percent sure about you."

"That sounds so fucking impossible." Dallon sighed, squeezing his hand. Sometimes it was easier to materialize things that way. "Someone who's sure about me. What the fuck does that even mean? How can you be sure about a person? The whole thing about people is that they're unpredictable. Smart. Deceiving. I hate the human race."

"You're right." Ryan commended, and Dallon knew he was. "But I think eventually you will. Find someone who's sure about you." He added, tilting his head back, and Dallon did too, and Ryan stared at him with apology in his eyes. "I love you, Dallon. I just wasn't sure about you."

"I wasn't sure about you either," Dallon admitted honestly and Ryan laughed, not even bothering to bite it back. "I'm serious!" He giggled back, pushing him away when Ryan gave him a look of disbelief.

"I hate you." Ryan laughed, jamming his elbow into his side, and Dallon swatted back at him, glad to have him back after neglecting him for so long.

"Um, you just told me you loved me. I beg to differ." He poked him in the side, and Ryan went to push at his hand but ended up grabbing it again instead. Dallon stopped to stare at him, lacing their fingers together slowly like he didn't even need to think about it. "Bad habits are really hard to break, you know." He whispered, but he wanted to learn how.

"I know." He nodded, not giving him those apology eyes this time. Just empathy eyes. Like he knew because he was there too. "We'll get there." He assured him, smiling like it were set in stone.

"I know." Dallon agreed, and he did. He leaned his head back against the wall, nodding too, and the thing was that nothing was set in stone. Nothing could be certain. But he would learn to apologize. Every day until it was ingrained. He would make it up to him. He swore he would. "Yeah. I know we will." He sighed, and he promised he'd make it up to him.

* * *

"How was your first month?" Dallon's mother asked on the first day of October as she made dinner in the kitchen, greeting her son when he took a seat at the table. He shrugged, grabbing at one of the cookies she had out on the table. He liked to have dessert before his dinner. "Hey-"

"It's one cookie, mom, chill." He broke it in half and smiled childishly when she gave him a look. "It was okay. I've been talking to Ryan again, and Josh, and they're not as on edge as they were. I think they might trust me again. Not in the way they used to, I don't think they ever will, but I'm trying. Really, really hard."

"Good." She ruffled his hair and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and it seemed like they were still making up for lost time, because for years they'd barely talked, looked each other in the eye, hugged in the way she held him so goddamn tight because she missed her baby and she was happy he was slowly getting to be himself again. "I talked to Ryan's mother today. She told me that he's doing better too. Not as stressed all the time. He's glad you're back."

"Don't make me feel guilty. I feel really bad, mom." Dallon pulled away to look at her, resting a cheek in his hand. And he meant it, he felt bad, horrible, disgusted in himself for ever letting it get that far. He loved his friends. So why did he hurt them so badly? "I'm glad he feels better, though. I do too. I didn't realize how much I missed my friends until I didn't have them anymore."

"I'm just happy you're still friends." She returned to the stove and Dallon nodded, taking a bite out of the cookie. "You have been for years."

"I know. I missed him." Dallon watched her hands move, picking at the rest of his cookie. He did. He really missed him. And not in the way he thought he would. He just missed having a friend, a best friend, someone he'd lived through his whole life with. He had gotten so used to being angry that he didn't realize he needed someone on his side. "I like this guy." He added suddenly, and when she turned to look at him he shrugged. "His name is Brendon. I've mentioned him before, I don't know if I told you, I never told you much. But I've liked him for a while. And he's in a few of my classes this year, so I wanna try to talk to him. I think I need to do that for myself."

She nodded, tried to hide her shock though he saw right through it. "I think that's a good idea, Dals."

He half smiled, raising his eyebrows. "Now if only I can work up the courage to do that."

* * *

Dal: you guys I got paired with Brendon for this project and I'm having a panic attack because I have to meet up with him and I don't know what to do because as you know I've liked him for years and I don't know what to say to him because I've never had more than a five minute conversation with him and I think my heart might explode

Ryan: now that's just a little dramatic don't you think

Dal: no

Josh: come on now the boy's in love

Ryan: Dallon is always in love

Dal: you guys :(

Josh: just be your cute little aloof self and he'll fall in love with you it's inevitable!

Dal: I don't know how to be myself anymore I just want him to tell me he loves me so the hard part is over

Josh: do what you have to do man

Dallon sighed, letting his phone fall onto the mattress as he looked up at the stars on the ceiling, glowing green in the dark of his bedroom until he shut his eyes. Do what you have to do. He guessed he had to.

* * *

Dallon rummaged through one of the four boxes he’d pulled out of the closet, sitting in the middle of the hallway with no patience left. He muttered under his breath to himself, he needed to go soon, why hadn’t he done this earlier, and why couldn’t he just—

“What are you doing?” His mother’s voice stole his attention, making him glance up from the box with a pout.

“I’m looking for those cat ears we have. Brendon invited me to the diner, he said that Halloween is really fun and they give out candy to people in costumes and he told me I should wear one. Don’t have time to go buy a costume or anything so I need to improvise.” He sat up on his knees and started to dig through the box again. “Do you know where those are?”

“Um.” She leaned over to glance into the closet. “Yeah, I think there’s a box labeled Halloween in there. Should have looked there first.”

“Right.” He stood up and almost slipped, sneaking into the closet to find the box labeled Halloween behind one of the Christmas ones. He smiled victoriously, Brendon was going to think he was so cute, and put it on the floor of the hallway to scrounge for those stupid fucking cat ears. Only at the bottom of the box did his fingers wrap around the metal ear, and he pulled it out successfully and grinned up at his mom as he placed it on his head. “Cute, right?”

She folded her arms, smiling warmly. “Very cute. This a date?”

“No. Not as far as I know. I’m trying to work up the courage to ask. I just... I need to get to know him a little better first. I don’t wanna do it right off the bat. He’s gotta feel comfortable with me first. And I gotta convince him to like me.”

“I think he already does, Dals.”

“Inconclusive.” He stood up, smiling wide. “Thanks, mom. I’m gonna go change.”

She watched him half-heartedly push the boxes back into the closet before he darted toward his room. “Okay, I'll, uh, I'll just clean this up, then.”

“Thank you!” He called, already digging through his clothing drawer, and she just smiled after him.

* * *

Josh: Dallon wake up I have important news you're gonna wanna hear this

Dal: what I wasn't sleeping I was pretending to do homework what's going on

Josh: Brendon's gay

Dal: like gay gay? not like pretend to be gay to please your best friend kind of gay

Ryan: OUCH

Josh: nope he's gay gay and you deserved that Ryan and I've been talking to Tyler and he says that Brendon Urie is totally a hundred percent gay

Ryan: I suppose I did

Ryan: but omg dallon!!!!! get him

Dal: I WILL

Josh: apparently he came out at school last year on instagram and he's deleted the post since but it was a big deal and a bunch of people said shit to him and there were a bunch of rumors

Dal: last year? I swear I would have seen that post where was I

Ryan: you disabled your account because you were being a little bitch and you were too wrapped up in yourself to see anything going on around you

Dal: oh right

Dal: well fuck I guess I have to marry him now I don't make the rules

Ryan: wasn't that already the plan

Josh: Ryan shut up you were intolerable too

Dal: moral of the story here is that I'm a whiny bitch and Ryan is intolerable and Brendon Urie will carry my babies

Ryan: hell yeah

* * *

Ryan learned how to walk on thin ice but after junior year there was no need. It was like Dallon's morals had gone through a high-power car wash or something, because he smiled, actually smiled, and hugged his friends good morning and tried to help with Ryan's relationship problems and agreed to hang out after school every Friday. He started volunteering more at the rec center and going to church most Sundays, got back on his antidepressants and promised that he would be a better person. They were friends again, real friends, not Dallon trying to get things he couldn't have and Ryan not knowing what the hell he wanted.

Dallon pushed open the door with a groan and Ryan turned in his desk chair, an amused smile reaching his face when Dallon promptly flopped down onto his bed. Ryan inched his laptop shut but not completely, just swiveled around and then jumped up to join him on the bed. “Something wrong?” He asked, patting Dallon’s knee.

“Brendon can’t take a damn hint.” He pouted back, and of course it was about Brendon. Ryan smiled innately, an infatuated Dallon was one he had grown familiar with, and Dallon added, “Ryan, seriously. For weeks I’ve been sending him so many signals. How many times do I have to smile and brush his arm and flirt before he realizes that I like him? I feel pathetic as it is.”

Ryan criss-crossed his legs, laughing quietly to himself. “I can’t picture you flirting.”

“Please, I used to do it to you all the time.” He rolled his eyes, but then jolted up with wide eyes when he realized. “Shit, am I that bad at it? Is that why he hasn’t responded to it? He doesn’t know?”

“Chill, Dal.” Ryan pat his forearm supportively in a way he wouldn't have a year ago. “I have an idea. It’s genius. It’s fool proof. Wanna hear it?” Defeatedly, Dallon nodded. “Okay. Wait for it. You ready? Tell him you like him.”

“God, no.” Dallon shook his head, glaring like it were the stupidest suggestion he'd ever given him. “No. I would honestly rather choke. I can’t do that. I’m just gonna, like, keep flirting, make myself impossible to resist. I can do that, right? I’m not hideous. Or, well. He can look past my physical features and see the good in me, I think.”

“Shut up, Dal. You’re not ugly. And have you seen him? He’s obsessed. You guys will get together.” Ryan assured him.

“I hope you’re right. Fuck, I just, I’m going crazy trying to figure out how he feels, Ry. I’m so sick of this back and forth and I just want him to say something or do something or, you know, just send me a really clear signal. I wouldn’t even mind that.” He covered his face with his hands in frustration. “God, I’m so screwed. I need something to happen. Literally all I can think about is getting him underneath me.”

He snorted. “Pleasant.”

“Shut up." He smacked his leg. "I like him so much. It’s just... he’s so good. He’s so cute and nice and interesting and I don’t know, I’ve never gotten along with somebody so well. Somebody I have potential being with.” He added when Ryan raised a questioning brow. “I like him so much. But... how do I ask him if he likes me without actually asking him?”

"I don't know. You just... go for it, Dal. You're smart, and you're a great person, and Brendon's clueless but he's not that clueless. He has to get it. Just give it a minute." He promised, and Ryan knew, he was good at getting people to fall for him. It was just that Dallon had never had someone like him back. But he prayed Ryan was right, he needed to give him a minute. There was only so much of this he could take.

Brendon: do u think this color looks dumb

Brendon: new picture message!

Dallon: no not at all I think it looks cute on you

Brendon: I think it looks dumb :(

Or maybe it would take longer than a minute.

* * *

Dal: hey Ryan I have a question

Dal: when I liked you was it painfully obvious

Josh: yes

Ryan: a little

Josh: a lot

Dal: FUCK

Dal: I am being SO OBVIOUS and Brendon isn't getting it

Josh: can't u do the drop a pencil and accidentally suck his dick method?

Dal: he's the kind of boy I wanna put out candles and rose petals for

Ryan: ewwwwwww

Dal: I just wanna marry him and have his babies and give him all the love he deserves ):

Ryan: EEEWWWWWW

"Whatcha doin'?" Brendon asked suddenly, flopping down on the mattress beside him. Dallon locked his phone, paranoid that he would see although maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.

"Um, I was looking at the wait time online for that place we wanted to go to downtown." He said, swallowing thickly. "It says half an hour, so I can make a reservation now and drive us over there in like, fifteen? There shouldn't be a lot of traffic on the parkway."

"Absolutely!" Brendon grinned up at him, rolling onto his back with a sigh. "I'm fucking starving. I haven't eaten in like, six years."

"More like an hour. I saw you stealing food from my kitchen." Dallon eyed him and Brendon giggled, in a more childish mood than usual. "I'm glad you're comfortable here, though."

"Me too. I never really find comfort in that many places." He sat up on his elbows, going to toe at Dallon's calf with his socked foot. "I'm just comfortable with you, I guess."

"I guess you are," Dallon agreed, bumping his fist against his shoulder, not saying that he was comfortable with him too. Brendon bumped back, grinning up at him. He just had no idea.

* * *

Dallon sat alone at the head of Josh's bed as Josh put away his laundry, always seeming to be busy when Dallon came around. He lived closer than Ryan and sometimes it was nice to talk to somebody who could see where he was coming from. They made small talk, it always started out that way, and then it had somehow become Dallon ranting about Brendon Urie again because he swore he wasn't boy crazy; it was just that his new friend had been taking up so much of his time these days, not unfavorably but confusingly so.

“I think I fall for every guy who’s nice to me.” Dallon said blatantly, and Josh looked up from where he was hanging a blue button-up to raise an eyebrow at him skeptically. “Seriously. I think that I like people when they're nice to me. Cause I don't know how to distinguish that from actual attraction."

He looked at Dallon calculatedly, though it made sense in a way. Ryan and Brendon were some of the only people that Dallon felt understood him. "I'm nice to you." He pointed out. "What about me?"

"You're different. You're like... a catharsis friend." Dallon figured, and Josh put his hands on his hips, smiling in amusement, doubted that Dallon ever really knew what he was talking about.

"A catharsis friend? That's what we're calling me now?"

"Well, yeah!" He laughed, playing with the cuff of his jeans and shrugging. He didn't really know how else to put it. "You're like, too nice to me. Like, in a happy person way. I think that I'm too sad to ever be with a totally happy person. You're weirdly happy. That's not a bad thing." He added when Josh tilted his head at him. "I wish I was like you. I just don't think we would understand each other in a relationship when we're on completely opposite ends of like, the happiness scale."

Josh considered it before he nodded. He had a point. Things could get complicated in that sense. They already did. Dallon tended to clash with everybody no matter who they were. "Okay, that's totally fair."

"And besides, you like guys. In that sense, you're attainable. Maybe Brendon is too, I guess, I know he likes guys so that's already a step in the right direction. But Ryan never was. He just seemed like he was."

"Ryan seems like a lot of things." Josh said vaguely, going to hang up another shirt, but still Dallon somehow understood. "So, we know he likes guys. What's the next step?"

"Have Tyler ask him if he likes me so that I know whether or not it's safe to ask him out?" He suggested hopefully, and Josh turned to give him a look because he was never one to get involved in other people's relationships, and had been trying to keep Tyler from that too. "Okay. Fine." Dallon gave up, knowing he'd never cross that line either way. "Then I don't know. I guess I wait until I work up the courage to ask him out. Or to ask him if he likes me. But either way that would be so self-incriminating. I don't want him to know that I like him because if he doesn't like me back then it would make things weird. I wanna be a hundred percent sure that he likes me before I ruin our friendship because of some mixed signals. I don't wanna ruin this."

"I don't think you'll ruin it. I mean, you should see what we see. The way he acts around you. The boy laughs at everything you say. You are not that funny."

"Yes I am!" He argued, but he didn't know who he was fooling. "And I don't know. Sometimes I think that it's so clear but then sometimes he doesn't get my hints and I try so hard to insinuate things but he doesn't catch on. Like, he's oblivious, and it's cute, and I would think it was annoying as fuck on literally anybody else, Josh, but it's Brendon. I don't know how many times I have to hint at things that clearly aren't platonic before he gets it. I can't even tell you how many times I've said something that basically translates to I want you to sit on my face."

"Ew, Dallon." Josh laughed, and Dallon smiled apologetically as he went to join him on his bed.

"I'm kidding." He said, and Josh sat down on the edge of the mattress. "Well, kind of. Not really. I don't know. I don't know what Brendon is into. He's a virgin, though."

Josh's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Wait, how do you know that? You've talked about that?"

"No. Not really." He shook his head, rolling the cuff of his jeans over his finger for lack of better things to do with his hands. "He just mentioned that he's never been with anyone. In a relationship and otherwise."

Josh hummed thoughtfully, thinking about everything that Tyler had mentioned about Brendon though they didn't talk about the boy often, knew it was probably for the best since their friends were so close to being involved. "Does he know about Ryan?" He asked, and Dallon knew he would.

Dallon bristled awkwardly just then, turning away from him and clucking his tongue. "There's nothing to know. Ryan and I never had sex." He pointed out, not wanting to get it twisted.

"You almost did." He amended.

"That's debatable." He shot back, but Josh knew better than that. He gave him a look, never letting Dallon get away with lying about the past, and Dallon sighed because he knew. Of course he knew. "I mean, you know I would have, but it was dumb. We were fifteen. And not after everything. He probably wasn't ready. I wasn't either. I just thought I was."

"You thought a lot of things, Dal." Josh sighed, and Dallon didn't disagree, just stared after him when he got up to return to hanging up his clothes. "Hey, would you really...?" He trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud.

"There's not a lot that I wouldn't do." Dallon figured, and smiled when Josh made a face of disgust. "The point is, Brendon doesn't see it. And I want him to."

"Okay, I get that. But are you opening up?" He asked, and Dallon thought that was the whole point. He'd been opening up to Brendon since they started talking. Or trying to open up, at least. Taking baby steps toward opening up. "Because you know you're really hard to talk to and actually like if you don't, like, tell people about yourself."

"Thanks, Josh." He deadpanned, but Josh shrugged because he knew he wasn't wrong. Dallon squirmed around on Josh's bed, trying to think of everything he'd said to Brendon in the past few weeks. He'd opened up, right? He told him about his father. He told him... enough. "I want to. I really want to. And I know that he wants me to, I just... he’s trying to get to know me.”

He turned to look at Dallon again, raising an eyebrow like he was missing the point. “Is that a bad thing?”

Dallon gave him a look of incredulity like it were obvious. “You know me.”

“Okay. I see your point." Dallon nodded because he knew his place. "But you want him to know you, Dallon. You can’t build relationships with people unless you let them in.”

"I want to let him in. It's just hard when that requires telling him anything about myself."

Josh sighed, folding his arms as he leaned back against his closet door. "Dallon, you're a great person. Brendon already likes you a lot." He assured him, and Dallon wondered why he just couldn't see it. "Just don't do your thing where you're too scared to open up so you shut everyone out. If you want a relationship with Brendon then you should talk to him. Really talk to him."

“I’m trying.” He sighed, and Josh looked at him like he didn't believe it, but Dallon's entire junior year so far had been compromised of him trying. “I am, Josh." He insisted, feeling pathetic all of a sudden. "I told him about my dad. That’s a lot for me to talk about with someone I don’t know that well.”

“Okay, you’re right. That’s really good, man." He nodded sympathetically, and Dallon let it slide because he knew he meant well though it just felt patronizing sometimes, feeling like he still didn't know what he was doing. He did. He just didn't know how to prove that. "I just don’t want you to be let down and blame yourself for not doing everything you could.”

“No, I get it. I understand.” He forced a smile, knew he was coming from a place of love. He just wanted Dallon happy. He didn't know how impossible that was. “You’re not wrong, though, about me being hard to deal with if you don’t know anything about me. It’s just difficult for me to tell people stuff. Especially when it’s someone I like as much as him. I just...” He stopped, squirming uncomfortably again when he thought about it. “I just feel like it’s gonna scare him off. Or make him question me. My past is really ugly, Josh, you know? What if I tell him everything and he second guesses me?”

Josh looked him over for a second, but he couldn't deny that. He couldn't. Dallon Weekes came with a lot of baggage. It was just better to hide his truths than share them and hope they were reciprocated well. “Dallon. I don’t know Brendon like you do, but I don’t think he’d do that. I think he’d listen. Ask questions. You said he’s really curious.” Dallon nodded wordlessly, he liked that about Brendon. “Right. He’s curious. He’ll ask you questions. A lot of them. But I don’t think he’ll be upset with you over your past. He doesn’t seem like that kind of person.”

“I don’t know. I just feel like with him, things could be... uncomplicated. You know? Like, every aspect of my life is convoluted. Everything about me. I think that Brendon Urie can be the one thing that I don’t fuck up.”

Josh smiled in this way that made Dallon feel ridiculous because he was, in a way. The whole idea was. Finding something perfect in the storm he found himself in every day. He was foolish to think he could ever manage that. "I hate to break it to you, Dallon, but you’re a pretty complicated person. I don’t think you can pick and choose what parts of your life are going to be uncomplicated.”

“No, Brendon’s different.” Dallon insisted, and at the time he was sure of that. “If I get Brendon Urie then I’m never going to let him go. I’m never going to fuck it up. He’s like— he’s immaculate. He’s pristine. And I don’t think anything can change that.”

Josh clucked his tongue and looked away though Dallon caught his smirk and decided to challenge it. “Whatever you say, man.”

“Seriously." He crossed his arms, and he had never been so sure of something. Brendon Urie. He was unlike anybody else that Dallon had ever met. "Brendon Urie is perfect. You’ll see. He’s gonna change my life. He’s gonna be it.”

It. What a broad term. Josh turned, smiling like he had never seen Dallon so ambitious, but that was because he was. Brendon Urie. He was it. And Dallon knew before it had even started.


	42. Chapter 41: Reputation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sad face

By the time vacation was nearing its end, Brendon had his new year’s resolutions set. He was going to think proactively and do more, wanted to get so deep into his head that he could pull a magnificent piece of art out of the innermost caverns in the tangled web of his brain, much like Dallon had taught him to do. He wanted to forget about the depression and his restraints and spend his year adapting to leaving high school and starting college and in the meantime, he was going to spend time with his friends and his boyfriend and try to be happy.

He wanted to do something more efficient with his time. Writing, maybe. He wanted to live more and pretend that the depression didn't exist. If he was going to have to live with a mental illness, then he was going to try to push it back until it was hardly there. Of course, that was easier said than done, and Brendon ending up having to pretend he was doing better when he wasn't. The medication was working for the most part and his friends and family were definitely making it easier for him, but nothing would fix his depression. Not even Dallon, who did everything in his power to make Brendon feel okay again.

And Brendon really appreciated him, the way he kissed him gentler than usual and held his face in his hands and told him he loved him and slid his fingers down his body intricately like he were a piece of art Dallon was afraid to break. He appreciated every little act of kindness, the good morning and goodnight texts, the cute pictures sent throughout the day, the little poems he wrote and slid into strange places in Brendon's bedroom or backpack for the boy to find later. But it wouldn't cure his depression, and they both knew it. It was just something they never really mentioned.

Brendon was heading upstairs after his shift one day when his phone buzzed in the back pocket of his jeans, making his inexplicably anxious until he pulled it out to check the message. It was cut off on his lock screen so he opened the conversation, raising his eyebrows in curiosity as he made a beeline for his room.

Ty: so I know you’re gonna hate me for this but on new year’s there’s this party that I’m going to with Josh and I asked Dal and I want you to come. I know you don’t like parties and shit but this will be different because it’s at Mel’s so you’ll be in someone you know’s place and it’s only invites and she wants you to go and we all do so please come (we’ll keep you safe I promise)

Urie: wow that sounds like such a stupid fucking idea

Ty: b please I PROMISE it’ll be fine!!!!! we won’t take our eyes off of you and besides we never spend new year’s apart so why start now???

Urie: I shouldn’t be going to parties right now or ever??? I’m gonna be with Dallon anyway and I don’t really think I should be around a bunch of strangers

Ty: but you’ll know a lot of them and Melanie knows good people she won’t invite anyone who’s ever been mean to you I pinky swear ! if you don’t like it you can leave but I think you should give it a chance I mean try to cover up that bad experience with a better one

He laid on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with despondent eyes. It was the start of a new year; it should be celebrated with friends. And... and if everyone else would be there, then Brendon would be fine. He wouldn’t have to worry about anything if he had his friends watching over him. He could ask Dallon to be his date, have him stay over after. Maybe he could just replace the bad memories with better ones.

Urie: fuck u fine I’ll go but if I don’t have fun it’s on u.

Ty: deal!

* * *

Brendon knew it was a stupid idea.

Melanie lived in a loft on the other side of town with spacious rooms and a lot of light. And as the night grew dark, Brendon arrived with Dallon and Tyler and Josh, finding more people than he thought there would be. He didn’t see anybody he particularly hated, nobody that ever called him names or picked on him or anything, and he proceeded with caution as the music played and people welcomed them.

He saw Ashley hanging out with a group of people in the corner, a few girls Brendon recognized from social media and the halls, but he had no desire to make new friends. Instead, he hugged Dallon’s arm close to him while he examined the scene, though he quickly decided that maybe he would just stay on the sidelines. Brendon tugged Dallon aside, whispered under his breath, “I wanna stay over here.”

“Okay.” Dallon guided him toward the wall and let him hold him close. “We don’t have to stay long, if you don’t wanna. Say the word and we’re out.”

“Thanks.” Brendon tightened his grip on his hand and forced a smile up at him.

Tyler had gone somewhere in the kitchen with his boyfriend when they got there and Brendon hadn’t seen him since, and it would be something that Brendon would be ranting to Dallon about if he had any energy left in him. They mostly stood together against the wall in the corner of the room, talking quietly about things that didn’t matter and sharing occasional laughs, though Brendon was still on edge.

People came and gone, mostly came, and the loft was quickly filling up. Melanie herself greeted Brendon and Dallon with hugs and congratulated them on starting the new year together before she disappeared into the crowd again, and Ashley made her rounds too when she caught Brendon’s eye. A few others from school went to say hello, politely offering drinks and getting declined, making small talk. But when it all came down to it, he was alone. Aside from Dallon he was alone.

What a way to end the year. Nervously pulling at his clothes and trying to look busy, in between lonely, insincere walls. People were talking and laughing and dancing but all Brendon could do when anybody approached him was force laughter and fake a smile. How is your vacation going? Any new year’s resolutions? Questions that Brendon could barely stand to answer. He just stood in the corner, shifting his eyes, watching from the outside. He wasn’t a part of this. He wasn’t here.

The music was loud, too loud, and people were laughing somewhere off to the side in the living room where they played with those little confetti poppers. Dallon stood close by with one shoulder against the wall, and Brendon was watching him type something on his phone, twisting his own fingers together nervously. He could feel his pulse picking up, hearing the pops of the confetti and the music and the laughing, all the people around them talking and the group of boys playing beer pong somewhere in the kitchen. It was nowhere near as wild as the Halloween party but it was still too crowded.

Brendon was on sensory overload and he was overwhelmed and this was a dumb idea. It wasn’t like Tyler to ditch him at a party that he practically forced him to go to, not to mention that Dallon only attended because he wanted to be there if Brendon needed him. Brendon knew the second he got there that he should have just gone home. Laid in bed and watched movies with Dallon, held his hand and ate that cheesecake in the fridge and had a good night.

All of a sudden it seemed like the walls of the busy room were closing in on him and making it harder for him to breathe. People talking, laughing, confetti poppers, cheering in the kitchen, drinking, music, it was all getting closer and closer until— Brendon clutched his boyfriend’s wrist, suddenly desperate, getting his attention away from his phone. “Dallon— I can’t— I can’t breathe.”

Dallon turned to look down at him at the sound of his tremulous voice and he was holding him stubbornly tight. “What?” He asked, but Brendon just shook his head and put a hand to his chest to indicate that it felt like there was a thousand-pound weight sitting on it. What the fuck was happening?

He let Dallon tug him out of the room and into the vacant hallway that led to the bathroom and a few other rooms with closed doors, maybe in use, but maybe to keep visitors out. The bathroom door was shut, and Dallon held onto his boyfriend’s biceps when Brendon’s back hit the wall. He leaned back, ducking his head to try and get in some more air, struggling, and put his hands to his chest to feel the rapid beat of his heart.

All of it was too much, the people and the sounds, and he felt like he was suffocating and he didn’t know what to do. Tears were rolling down his cheeks in a choking panic, and just as the bathroom door swung open he let Dallon guide him into the small room. Getting him away from all the noise was good, and as soon as the door was closed, Brendon let himself break down.

He slid down against the sink and let out a sob, grasping for Dallon so that he had something tangible to hold on to. Dallon kneeled in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder, keeping his eyes fixated on Brendon’s until he choked out a strained, “What-“

“Panic attack.” Dallon informed him quietly, making another round of tears make their way down his cheeks. He tightened his grip on Dallon’s tee shirt underneath his jacket desperately, and Dallon sat down in front of him with his legs crossed. “Okay, Brendon, I want you to breathe with me. Can you do that?” Weakly, he nodded. “Okay. Listen to me, Bren. Look me in the eye.” He grabbed his face in his hands and lifted his chin upward, caught his gaze, and started tapping his middle finger against his shoulder in a steady rhythm. “Okay. Breathe every sixth count, baby.”

“Okay.” He did as he was told, breathing with Dallon on the floor of someone else’s bathroom, and all of a sudden this seemed so pathetic. Why had he come to another party when he knew what the result would be? Just another stupid goddamn mess, his best friend ditching him, Dallon being the one to have to see him fall apart. Excellent. That was just great, really.

Air began to fill his lungs, and he trembled when his eyes wavered on Dallon’s face, the eye contact a little too intimate for a moment so embarrassing like this. But Dallon was still tapping his finger against Brendon’s shoulder in that same rhythm, one, two, three, four, five, six, and it was helping. He felt so useless. He felt like he was going to die. Like his body was convulsing and burning and the air was trying to evacuate before the fire got to it, leaving him an empty fire escape with nothing left but his own decadence.

“Just breathe, baby. Just look at me, Brendon, and breathe.” Dallon guided in a hushed, semi-sweet voice, reaching out to push Brendon’s glasses up over his head and proceeding to swipe his fingers across the wetness of his cheeks. Brendon knew it was a cliché, the boyfriend being there to wipe away his tears when depression struck, guiding him through a panic attack and being there to hold him through the night, but God, he wasn’t sure where he’d be without Dallon.

When he finally felt himself starting to regulate his breathing Brendon let out a strangled whine and pulled Dallon into a sudden hug, making him sit up on his toes to hug back, long and warm and careful. He sighed, holding Brendon’s body against his own, before he pulled away and placed a gentle, reassuring hand on his cheek. Brendon said nothing, only offered a look that screamed his need to get the hell out, and he swore that he and Dallon had developed some ability to speak without words, because Dallon pulled his phone out of his pocket and stood up to pace the bathroom, suddenly anxious.

Brendon watched wordlessly as Dallon located a number on his phone and made a call. He stepped back and forth in the small space, and Brendon averted his gaze down toward his lap, where he twisted his fingers together as he took deep breaths. He began to count the petals of the flowers on Dallon’s pale pink jacket. Anything to keep him steady. Anything to keep him occupied. One, two, three, four...

“Hey, man, where are you?” Dallon asked into the phone, a hand on his hip. “Ah, okay. Look, Bren and I are leaving early, I’m staying at his house tonight but I don’t feel good and I wanna get going... I’m alright, yeah, it’s just my stomach has felt weird all day. I need to go sleep it off. I’ll see you at school, though, yeah? Okay... I will. Bye.” He hung up the phone and extended his free hand to Brendon. “C’mon.”

Brendon looked up at him incredulously and furrowed his eyebrows before he took Dallon’s hand and let him pull him up. “That was weirdly smooth,” Brendon huffed out, following a rushing Dallon out of the bathroom and to the exit.

“Yeah, I know. Tyler wants me to tell you bye and that he’ll call to talk in a little while.” Dallon led him toward the front door, past the crowd of people, and they made a graceful exit without managing to catch the attention of anybody who would beg them to stay. And then they were out in the hall, and Brendon couldn’t help but gulp in a big breath of air. It felt cleaner in the hallway of the loft’s building, almost. Comforting.

As soon as Brendon got home, he showered the smell of desperation and teenage idiocy off of him while Dallon changed into pajamas and settled down on his bed. A panic attack. He’d never had one so bad before. He never felt as though he wasn’t in control of something so involuntary as breathing. He swore once that he’d try to prevent it but that wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be.

Maybe he was just doomed to being scared of everyone and everything for the rest of his life. That wasn’t a goddamn way to live at all.

Dallon wasn’t wearing the pity face when Brendon appeared back in his room, a towel wrapped around him and dried off just enough. He simply glanced up to see that Brendon wasn’t clothed yet, and then he respectfully averted his gaze toward his phone while Brendon slid on his pajama pants and a sweatshirt of Dallon’s. As he ran a towel through his hair to dry it off and get in bed, holding the silence between he and Dallon, his phone buzzed on the side table and caught his attention. Dallon glanced up when the boy went to retrieve it, eyebrows furrowed, and when he saw the ID he answered.

“Hey, hoe! I barely got to see you at the party!” Tyler’s voice chirped on the other line. Brendon could hear the din of people behind a closed door, and since it was before midnight he assumed that Tyler was still there and just making the call so he wouldn’t wake Brendon later. And, well, of course he didn’t see him, because he disappeared the moment they arrived. That wasn’t Brendon’s fault.

“Yeah, I know.” Brendon deadpanned, beginning to pace the room slowly while Dallon looked up again to watch him. “Look, um, you can’t really do that to me. Not anymore, at least. Um. I don’t feel safe anymore, and I don’t wanna feel alone when I’m somewhere triggering and I just... don’t leave me when we go anywhere, okay? I know that’s asking a lot, but-“

“No, Brendon, God. That’s not asking a lot at all. Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I swear I’m not gonna leave you ever. I want you to feel safe with me.” Tyler’s apology was rushed and rapid which meant it was sincere, and Brendon’s gaze lingered upward while he avoided Dallon’s worried gaze.

“It’s okay, but just keep that in mind. I’m your best friend.” He dropped the towel, once he’d dried his hair off enough to make it damp, onto the ottoman in the corner of the room. “I need to be able to trust you.”

“You can, Bren.” He promised, and Brendon knew he was drawing an X over his chest like he always did. “I’m sorry. I love you. Are we okay?”

“Yeah, no, it’s okay. I’m okay. I love you too. Have fun at the party and everything, don’t get drugged. I’m gonna go lay down. Happy almost new year.” Brendon turned his body toward the bed and let his eyes flicker down toward Dallon, who had returned to using his phone but was obviously listening.

“Happy almost new year, Brenny bear. Have a good night.” Tyler made a kissing noise into the phone, and the two said goodbye before Brendon set his phone down on the side table and went to crawl into bed with Dallon, who squirmed over to give him more room.

Brendon clicked off the light and laid back as Dallon set his phone aside, and only when they had both settled down did Brendon pull Dallon’s body close to his in the little bed and hold him as tight as he possibly could. Dallon sighed but said nothing, just an exhale of breath as he hugged Brendon back, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Bringing a hand up to card through his hair, he asked, “You don’t feel safe anymore? Not with me?”

Brendon let out a sigh, long and uneasy. “I think you’re the only one I do feel safe with.” Brendon buried his face in Dallon’s chest and inhaled, tightening his grip on the fabric of his long-sleeved shirt and keeping him pressed up against his body.

“And you always should, okay?” Dallon rubbed his arm carefully, and Brendon knew. He knew, and that didn't make it any easier. Because he could try all he wanted, close his eyes and imagine that things were even the slightest bit okay, but they both knew the score. Dallon wanted what he couldn't have. And Brendon did too, in some aspects.

“I just feel isolated sometimes." Brendon admitted as he rested his chin on Dallon's chest, right over his beating heart. Being alive was so trivial sometimes, anyway. "Like I’m in this alone."

“You’re not, though. And I know that’s the most cliché thing to say to someone, I swear I don’t mean that in the I’m trying to help even though I know it’s not going to work kind of way, I just...” He looked down at Brendon’s shoulder and then up at his eyes, glistening with apathy. “There’s a difference between being alone and being lonely.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” He agreed, and that had been something his heart didn’t know too well yet. “I’ve always been lonely, I think. And I know that I’m not alone. But it just feels like I am. It...” He sighed, and he didn't expect himself to know what to say. He never actually did. Though he never anticipated being in this place, either. “I know that you understand to some extent what it’s like to be in a bad place. But this... this is different. This is assault and harassment and a completely different feeling of loss. And I wish more than anything that this was something I could be oblivious to, but I’m not and I can’t. I’m experiencing this in a way that makes me feel so viscerally alone.”

“I get it.” He traced Brendon’s jawline with his index finger, and Brendon sighed quietly, tilting his head to him. Sure he did. He'd been through a lot, he'd fought his battles and had his armor up, but the only difference was that now he knew what weapons to use. Brendon was still bringing knives to gun fights. “I do. I mean, I always felt alone too. And I knew people were there for me, Ry and Josh and my mom, but I didn’t want them. I wanted my dad. I know that’s selfish.”

Brendon turned to look at him just then, placing a hand on his shoulder to push himself up to be level with his face. “No, it’s not.”

“I don't know." Dallon sighed, and Brendon relaxed again to rest against him with a frown. There were just... things they couldn't change. He wanted to try anyway. "I know I should have been better to them. But I just thought that the one person I needed wasn’t there, and that was the most important thing to me. And I know I can’t convince you that you’re not alone. Being alone and feeling alone are totally different. Sometimes I feel so goddamn alone too.”

“I know what you mean.” Brendon's voice came out in a whisper. Dallon nodded, his nose against the side of Brendon’s face, breathing out softly against cool skin. “Sometimes I feel alone even when I’m with you. And I hate that I do, it’s just that...”

“When you’re depressed, you isolate yourself. You feel closed off. I think you’re closing yourself off. And if that’s what makes you feel safe, then do it. I know it’s a lot safer than having to use all your energy on useless interaction. At least it was that way for me. Sometimes even talking to people is so taxing.” He sighed, and Brendon knew. He knew too well, actually. That was starting to scare him. “I wish I could give you better advice, but I don’t know what else to say. I never figured out how to stop feeling alone.”

“I guess it’s not that simple.” Brendon concluded like that was all there was. Maybe it was just that he had to accept his fate and deal with the fact that maybe he wasn’t meant to be the boy he thought he’d be. Maybe this version of himself was the one that was set in stone.

“No, I guess it’s not.” Dallon agreed, fingers playing with the hem of Brendon’s sweatshirt idly. He opened his mouth again, but there was a quiet tap at the door, almost so silent that neither could hear it. But Brendon glanced up, eyes hooded and tired, and his mother poked her head into the room.

“Hi, babies. I just wanted to say happy almost new year. You’re home earlier than expected.” Wordlessly, Brendon nodded. He knew that sooner or later she’d come and check on him, having stayed up in the first place to be there in case her youngest needed her, but, well. Brendon needed a lot of things. He was just finding it easier to hide that. “How was your party?”

“Shitty.” Brendon admitted, and she frowned, shifting her weight with disappointment. That wasn’t what a hopeful mother wanted to hear. “Tyler kinda left me to go fuck myself and I don’t think I’m ready for a party, anyway. I should have just stayed home. I should’ve trusted my gut.”

She sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “High school parties are always narcissistic. Tyler will figure it out. I’m sorry you had a bad time. But I’m glad you’re home. Both of you.” She apologized, and Brendon nodded quietly, ran a hand over Dallon’s chest. “Come get me if you need anything. I just wanted to come in to say goodnight, so. Goodnight. I love you guys.”

“Love you too.”

“You too. Goodnight.” Dallon added, voice tired but sweet, and Brendon’s mother blew them kisses before she disappeared, closing the door softly behind her. “Are you alright?” Dallon asked, pressing his lips to whatever patch of skin he was closest too. Brendon nodded, said nothing but wasn’t sure he meant it, and Dallon stroked Brendon’s stomach, pushing his fingertips up underneath his sweatshirt. “You’re cold, baby.”

“You’re warm.” Brendon arched into his touch, and Dallon could feel the muscles in his stomach move. He pressed his fingertips into his flesh, pretended like he wasn’t trying to commit the feeling of his skin to memory. “You’re always warm, warm boy. I’m so jealous.” Closing his eyes, he tilted his head to press a blind kiss to Dallon’s face. He got his chin, and Dallon tried to smile, though Brendon wasn’t watching and anyway, sometimes it wasn’t that easy. “I’m always jealous of you. Can I hire you to be my personal heater?”

“I do free trials,” Dallon tried to joke, and Brendon hooked his ankle around Dallon’s under the covers.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Uh-huh. Ninety-nine ninety-nine a month after that.”

“Woah.” Brendon laughed weakly, stomach unusually taut under Dallon’s fingertips, dotting heat against the cold. Maybe he should be worried about how cold he always was. Maybe he was too tired to care anymore. “You’re not cheap.”

Dallon swallowed, scratching his nails at Brendon’s flesh aimlessly. The words resounded in his mind for a while, a timid Brendon telling him on one of the very first days. I’m not cheap. Scared but defiant, like he had something to prove. Back when maybe he did. I’m not cheap. Dallon never thought he was, not even now. “You’re not either.” He said quietly, slowly, like a breath in between lips held more truth than the boy could bear.

He opened his eyes to see ocean blue ones looking back at him, wide like a confession, and he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to say because he didn’t believe it. Not anymore, anyway. “I wanna go to bed.” He said instead, and Dallon hesitated a second before he nodded, inching up to click out the lamp. Leaving them both in darkness, just how they came into the world.

“Okay. That’s fine. We’ll go to bed.” He kissed his cheek and nuzzled his face against his shoulder. “Happy almost new year, Urie.” Dallon whispered, almost lost in cold skin somewhere after the covers had ended and so had his blood running deep.

Brendon tangled their fingers together with a nod, sighed, and said nothing.

* * *

Even as Dallon slept soundly to the rise and fall of his chest with Brendon’s hand on the back of his neck, playing with the short strands of hair, Brendon couldn’t feel at peace. It was one of those nights, they could both sense it, but Brendon could fake that Dallon’s comforting whispers made him feel better until the latter was asleep and the ceiling became his only friend. It was his fault. It was all his fault. He was blamestorming, he knew it, but all that came up between the web of lies and truth was himself.

It was his fault. Provoking, maybe, because he was to blame. He was always to blame.

He tried to think back to all the times he’d talked to Shane, searching for a reason as to why he would find attraction in Brendon. Maybe in some classes? Yes, Brendon recalled a class they’d shared once, he let him borrow a pencil. Worked with him on a project once, too. Had he been too kind? He didn’t think so. Just a few smiles, a thank you here or there, hardly anything to fall in love with. Being kind and being presumptuous were two different things, but perhaps there was a fine line. Maybe Brendon meant something to him, but he meant nothing to Brendon. He was just a snake without a face.

He let himself open up too much, he wasn’t cautious enough. He didn’t protect himself, he didn’t— he didn’t keep himself safe from all the world’s cruel intentions. He could hear the voices in his head taunting him. Oh, Brendon, you’ve done such a foolish thing.

It had become a justice system in his head. A name that he would never speak again, not without a bitter taste in his tongue and an acidic feeling of indigence. A stranger had melted into an enemy so malicious that Brendon locked himself up in a cage to keep himself safe and tossed the key where no one would find it. Too scared to let anyone in again. And maybe one day he’d retrieve it, break free of the confinement he’d been subjected to and let himself fight back. But that day, he couldn’t fight back in the bathroom, and he didn’t think he could ever fight back again.

How could he have been so stupid? He knew nothing could come out of letting himself open up. He was so conflicted but how could he not be? He thought he found who he was meant to be, opened his heart for every passerby to peer into like he were on display. He was stupid, a foolish boy, too fucking naive. He let his guard down and never saw it coming. So damn foolish, he was. Just a scared little boy with a penchant to belong. And then it happened: he let himself succumb to the world when it wrapped its hands around his neck.

All of a sudden, his throat closed and tears filled his eyes, and there it was, he was fucking pathetic. He glanced over at a sleeping Dallon, his face half in the pillow and his arm tucked against his chest, and a feeling of guilt bubbled in his stomach as he slid out from under the covers and climbed out of bed. Dallon shifted, tugging the pillow further under his head, but didn’t wake, so Brendon snuck out of the room and into his parents’, the door ajar. He climbed in over his mom, who stirred for a moment before she looked up to see her youngest claiming the spot in the middle of the bed. She looked sympathetic, that pity look that he hated so much, and held him against her when tears spilled down his cheeks.

And all of a sudden, finding himself didn’t seem to matter. He’d tried a million times, he really did, but trial and error wasn’t giving him enough and things were getting to be too much. Maybe he couldn’t find himself because he was hiding. He thought he had looked in every nook and cranny but it seemed he’d overlooked somewhere, though he couldn’t quite find it. Whoever he was meant to be had outsmarted him, and suddenly he didn’t care. He didn’t care who he was or who he was meant to be. How could he care? It was obvious that if there were a God looking out for him, He wasn’t doing a very good job. Maybe He didn’t want Brendon to find himself, so who was he to defy that?

So he had a new new year’s resolution. Stay lost. It seemed so simple, and he would let himself slip into the mindset that that would always be easier because it would give him room to tuck himself away and burrow into his own self-doubt. Nowhere to be. No one to be.

He just had to find that feeling of trying to stay lost because it was so much easier than trying to be found.

* * *

Brendon blinked a few times and shifted to lay on his back. The ceiling was unfamiliar and there was no dinosaur holding a cake. He craned his neck back and once the moment of the unknown had passed, Brendon remembered the night prior. Sliding out from underneath Dallon’s arms to get into bed with his parents, letting himself regress on his final day of the year. How could such a good year take such a bad turn?

Dallon. His name flashed in his mind too quick to register, but when he saw it again he sat up in his parents’ bed, tangled in the sheets just short of being suffocated. He climbed out of bed and hurried out of the room, a cacophony of “you’re a terrible boyfriend” and “you’re pathetic” singing in his mind as he snuck into his bedroom. Dallon was nowhere to be found, so Brendon grabbed his glasses and slid them on before he went to search downstairs.

Dallon was sitting alone at the kitchen table when Brendon got downstairs. One leg was folded over the other, still in his pajamas, glasses on underneath the messy locks of hair falling in his eyes. He glanced up from his phone at the sound of the floor creaking, and Brendon’s bare feet were cool on the tile as he stepped in and forced a smile, though it looked more like a grimace.

“Hey.” Brendon greeted quietly, taking the seat closest to him. Why he was walking on tiptoes, he wasn’t sure, but Dallon woke up alone and Brendon was the one who spent the night in his parents’ bed like a child who needed comfort.

Dallon offered a warm smile as he set his phone down on the table. There was a mug of coffee on the table in front of him, and steam was swirling up from it. “Hi.”

He could have pretended it never happened. He should have pretended it never happened. But Brendon didn’t know how to let things go, and maybe that was part of the problem. “I’m really sorry about last night. All of it.”

Dallon shook his head and made a passive waving gesture as if to tell him not to worry about it. “No, it’s okay. Here.” He pushed his mug of coffee toward Brendon, and he accepted it gratefully. Milk and three sugars, the way Dallon liked it. “You cope how you cope, babe. It doesn’t bother me.”

Brendon shook his head shamefully, bringing the warm mug to his lips. He wondered fleetingly how long Dallon had been up. “I’m pathetic.”

“No you’re not.” Dallon refuted, but Brendon knew he was kidding them both. A seventeen-year-old boy shouldn’t have to sleep in his mother’s bed when he was too scared of the world. And he knew that it was there, the fact that Dallon was wondering why he left his bed to join his parents’. Probably thinking he wasn’t enough comfort to him. Far from true, really, but Dallon didn’t always know it. Brendon didn’t always know how to say it.

“I am, Dallon. I had to sleep in my parents’ bed last night. I love you, and you’re my favorite form of comfort. You really are. But I hate that you have to see me so weak. I mean, all I do is cry and freak out about everything and it’s not fair to you. Hell, it’s not even fair to me. Like, you had to physically remove me from a party. You’re not my babysitter. You shouldn’t have to have that burden.”

“You know,” Dallon took the mug back when Brendon set it down and took a long sip of the warm liquid, feeling it hot on his tongue. “I’ve spent a long time thinking about this. About you and me. And I’ve been thinking about when we started dating, the way you were so nervous to talk to me sometimes. And now... well, about how close we are. And how I worry when I don’t hear from you, and how I smile when I hear your name or how you look at me like you’re listening to every word I say because I know that you always are. And how you put yourself down and think so low of yourself and of us.”

Brendon looked down at his lap, trying to think and realizing that maybe he was right about everything. “I don’t...” Did he? “I don’t mean to.”

He placed a reassuring hand on Brendon’s wrist. “No, I know. And that’s alright. But sometimes you treat this like it’s temporary, and I'd like to think that it’s not. I want to be here for the long run.”

Tears pooled in Brendon’s eyes, and he reached up to rub at them. Did he really act that way? That was never his intention. Dallon wasn’t temporary. Dallon was the only real thing he’d ever known. He hadn’t meant to treat him so secondary. “I want you to be here too.”

He thumbed his wrist gently, nodding. “So I need you to stop acting like this is burdensome. I know this is a process, Bren, it’s not simple. It’s not something you can get over so soon. You can’t just flip a switch and be okay and I understand that. Trauma takes a long time to recover from and to cope with. I’m gonna hold your hand when you need me to, and you’re gonna hold mine.”

“God.” Brendon sighed and looked down at the table, feeling Dallon’s eyes linger on his own. The thing was, he was always gearing up for the worst. For Dallon to realize that this was never going to be easy. Brendon wanted to be prepared. But, well. There were days where he really needed someone to hold his hand. Dallon’s was perfect. He hoped he’d realized that too. “You’re right. Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. I just... I’m scared. For us. For me.”

Dallon frowned, though he understood. If he was right about one thing it was that he understood. There was a world of things that Brendon couldn’t possibly understand but the one true thing he knew was that when the rest of the world was breaking him down, somebody got him. Somebody got this. “What did you expect out of this relationship, Brendon?” He asked suddenly. “When you liked me and I liked you, before we started dating. What did you expect?”

Brendon half smiled suddenly and looked up to meet the pair of crystal blue eyes looking into his sparkling brown ones, tears clawing their way out, though he was trying to lock that gate permanently. “I guess I should refer to my old girlish notions of love, huh?” Dallon didn’t respond, only smiled a little, and Brendon sighed to himself. “Honestly, I thought things would be easier. I’m not saying that I was expecting a fairytale, but... well, I was expecting a fairytale.” He let out a laugh at his past self. Naive, stupid little boy. “And I always knew that you and I were unconventional. That we’ve both got pasts and weird truths and things to hide but I’m glad that you found a way to get to me. I’m glad I could get to you too.”

“But?” Dallon urged, and Brendon knew where he was going.

He shook his head, disappointed in himself. “But I’m scared. I didn’t... I didn’t expect this. All my life I kind of planned everything, y’know? I put everything in boxes because they had to make sense. I didn’t like change. I didn’t like anything out of order. But this is different, it’s like a whole new level of confusing and terrifying and I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t make sense of it. And I always could but not this time. I’ve been trying to figure out why this happened but I can’t.”

“There’s not always a reason.”

“No, I know. But for this, there is, and that’s Shane. But what I can’t figure out is why he would do it. Like, maybe I led him on or maybe I gave him the impression that something could happen. Maybe I was too nice. I don’t know. And me having depression is confusing too. That I’ve had it for a long time and never knew. And I can’t seem to make sense of any of it. I know it’s all tied together but I can’t fathom how. It’s all jumbled in my head.”

Dallon pulled away and sat back in his seat like Brendon’s words were getting to him too. And they were, because it made sense. It was a which came first situation. The incident or the mental illness? Was that how it worked? Had what happened triggered Brendon’s depression, scared it out of hiding, or had it been around much longer, just in subtler manifestations? “It’s like some really screwed up equation.”

“Exactly. I think I’m pushing the world too much, and it’s getting angry.” He retrieved the mug from in between them on the table and took a sip before he pulled it away from his lips and added, “I’ve decided to stop searching for myself. I wanted to know who I am, but now I’m thinking that I’m too scared to find out.”

Dallon folded his arms and furrowed his eyebrows in concern. Brendon’s year had been dedicated to discovering his self-worth, finding his purpose, making a name for himself. But then again, today was the start of a new year and hopefully, new goals. “Are you sure you wanna do that?”

Brendon nodded confidently. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll come to me when I’m ready. As of right now, I just... I wanna get better. And I can’t quite figure out how to do that either.”

Dallon leaned in close and set his hand on top of Brendon’s to tangle their fingers together, an inextricable knot of support that Brendon could decipher easily enough. He may not have been aware of much, but what he did know was that there was Dallon, always. “Well, I have faith in you.”

Brendon wanted to have faith in himself too, more than he or Dallon even knew. But he wasn’t sure if he could.

* * *

It was a new year; things would be different. That was the mantra that Brendon repeated to himself in the mirror the morning of the first day back at school. It had been a long week. A long month. Or a long few months, rather, and Brendon was tired but he was counting down the days until graduation. Promising himself that for these last few months he would be fine. Shane had been expelled. He wouldn’t be seeing him anymore.

He promised himself he wouldn’t panic. Looked at himself every day and said Brendon Boyd Urie, you will not fucking panic. You will go out and face the world and be yourself and you’re going to kick some ass. But he could say it a million times and it would mean nothing. Words only meant something if you assigned meaning to them, a wise boy once told him. And he couldn’t find it in him to line up the words he told himself, compartmentalize like he always did and organize them completely until they were perfect. He couldn’t assign meaning to something that just... wasn’t meant to have it.

He’d felt it before so it wasn’t really any different, the seizing of breath and the way his heart rate picked up until it hurt to try and breathe. In fact it had only been a few days since his breakdown in a foreign bathroom, and remnants of Dallon’s comfort lingered as he took a seat on the edge of the bathtub and pulled out his phone. His fingers typed rapidly until the message had been sent, right there in plain sight. No dancing around it, no bullshitting. Just complete and utter truth.

Bumblebee: I’m really fucking scared to go back to school today and I know I shouldn’t be and it’s really stupid but I’m scared and I don’t wanna go

Dally: you can’t keep hiding, Brendon. I believe in you, you’re strong and confident and you need to be sure of yourself. you’ll kick ass this year. it will be better.

Bumblebee: thank u and I appreciate u but what if it’s never gonna get better? what if I’m stuck in this shitty place forever? I can’t do this anymore

Dally: you’ll never know if you don’t try.

Dally: do you still have that cheap eyeliner you stole?

Brendon tried to smile down at the screen, placing a hand over his chest as he took long, deep breaths as Dallon had showed him to do on the tiled floor on New Year’s Eve. He had told him that story ages ago, and it was hard to believe that that was the same Dallon. The same him. Even then, Dallon always listened.

Bumblebee: yeah why

Dally: bring it when I pick you up :) xo be there in half an hour

Brendon put his phone down against his thighs, breathing out unsteadily. Dallon had always been cryptic and it wasn’t particularly jarring anymore, but still his curiosity lingered when he went to find that old eyeliner pencil in the bottom drawer of his desk, shoved it into a pocket of his backpack and went down to lie to his family over breakfast. Sure, he was fine. He slept great, no nightmares, very excited for a new year. Only five and a half more months until graduation! It was a cycle of him lying and them knowing he was lying, but sparing him the apologetic gazes. It was a cycle, and they all knew not to break it.

Brendon slid into the passenger seat apprehensively and greeted Dallon with what he was sure was a grimace instead of a smile as he placed his backpack on the floor in front of him. Dallon led with his daily greeting of hi, good morning, how’d you sleep, did you eat, all before Brendon glanced down to see his jean clad thighs silver. They were silver. And Brendon remembered.

He pointed at his legs. “You...”

Dallon looked down, and his eyes lit up in recollection. “Oh. Yeah. I told you that day that I had a pair of sparkly silver jeans in my closet that I was too scared to wear. And I know you’re scared to go back today, so I’m doing this in solidarity. You’re facing a fear, and so am I.”

Brendon looked up to meet his eyes just then, anxiety stirring in his stomach as the cold from outside lingered in the car. The heat was on, warm enough to replace the color in Brendon’s flushed cheeks, but an undetectable warmth spread through his body as he looked back down at his boyfriend’s thighs. And sure enough, they were there. A pair of silver jeans with a hint of sparkle just... making a statement. Facing a fear.

“You have the eyeliner?” Dallon asked without missing a beat, and Brendon nodded speechlessly.

He dug his hand into the side pocket of his backpack and returned with a cheap, old little pencil with a rounded black tip, worn out from when Brendon once used it only to take it off soon after in the comfort of his room. Brendon had gotten it years ago, he should have thrown it out, but for him it represented a stage in his life that marked a shift. A shift that just seemed... right. Comfortable.

Dallon took the pencil from Brendon’s hand and, without a second glance, uncapped the plastic piece and pulled down his overhead mirror. Brendon watched wordlessly as Dallon put his fingers on his face and used the pencil to smudge the makeup in the corners of his eyes and along the waterline, blinking back tears. Sure, it would bother his eyes, had probably expired long ago, but it was all he had on such short notice. And besides, it was symbolic.

Smiling with satisfaction, Dallon turned to hand the pencil to Brendon. Brendon just stared down at it for a second, wondering how someone could change your life so immensely in such a short span of time, and he said, “I think you’re the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

Dallon smiled wider, and Brendon pulled down his overhead mirror to do the same as Dallon had done. Dallon watched with a warm gaze as the eyeliner made a home in the corner of Brendon’s eyes, darkening his skin and making his eyes look bigger and more fearful than before. But he was facing a fear. And he was going to look good while doing it. “You look really good with makeup, Urie.” Dallon laughed when Brendon put his hand with the pencil in it down against his thigh.

Brendon recoiled to look at himself in the mirror, at pale skin that hadn’t seen the sun in ages and big brown eyes lined with charcoal black. Lips that had been bitten raw and bags under his eyes, imperfect skin and greasy hair and— why didn’t he shower the night before? He wasn’t ready to go back to school. He wasn’t ready to look so... different. “And what if someone says something mean?”

“Then you smile and you thank them with the most sincere look you can. And then you raise your head high and you walk away because you’re bigger than them, Brendon. You’re so much more than the whispers behind your back. And I want you to know that.” His voice was quiet, and when Brendon glanced up at him, he offered a rosy smile. “I’m so proud of you sometimes.”

“That’s hard to believe.” Brendon looked away, down at his lap, and rolled the pencil in between his thumb and index finger awkwardly.

“Hey.” Dallon reached out to touch his arm, hesitating just in time for his fingertips to brush him gently, and big, charcoal lined eyes met Dallon’s when he glanced up. “I fell for you because you were different, you know. Because you wear nail polish even though nobody else does and you didn’t want to be at a party with hundreds of people even though you could have tried to fit in like I know you wanted to. Because you very obviously wear girl’s pants and you aren’t embarrassed about that. Because maybe you were scared and maybe people bullied you but you didn’t stop. Anyone else would stop. They’d stop wearing nail polish and the clothes they wanna wear and they would try to fit in because it would be easier but you didn’t. And I saw you and I thought, he is so fucking brave. I thought that you were unapologetic.”

“You told me that, that day.” Brendon recalled, but it wasn’t sudden. It had been something he thought about often, hiding around the corner in his memory just in case. “When I was painting your nails. You told me that it was rare to be unapologetically me and that I shouldn’t let anyone fuck that up.”

“And I had been wanting to say that for years, Bren. Because it amazed me that you could be so defiant and so scared at the same time. Like you’d never stand up to them but you’d never stop, either. And you still haven’t.” Dallon slid his hand down, poked at Brendon’s fingers. Made him glance down to catch a glimpse of the almost completely chipped sparkly black polish. “I’m proud of you for staying true to who you are even when everything in this world feels so upside down.”

“It didn’t feel like... anything. A rebellion, or being me, or expression of my being different. It’s just... I grew up painting my nails and I didn’t wanna stop.” He shrugged, suddenly too aware of it, and started to pick at his nails. “And I wear girl’s pants cause I got my mom’s body so I have curvy hips.”

Dallon laughed, and Brendon found it in him to smile. “I know. And you have a nice ass, Brendon, seriously.” Brendon turned to look at him, laughing riantly, and Dallon laid his fingers on top of Brendon’s and added, “I mean it. It’s hot. You don’t know how blessed you are with that thing. But the point is, Bren, is that you do what you’re comfortable with. You do what feels right for you. Even though it’s weird that you wear leggings.”

He threw his head back, bursting into another fit of laughter. “I love leggings!”

“I know you do! And I love that!” Dallon squeezed his hand, left Brendon smiling even after their laughter faded. “Look. I fell for you because you were different. And for years I kept falling for you because you were different. And then I got to know you, Bren, and I realized that I never had a distinguished idealized version of you because you were so unique that I couldn’t make you up if I tried. I'm lucky to be with someone who inspires me like you do. Because this is going to be disgustingly cliché and I hope you still love me after I say this, but you are so fucking inspiring. The way you live the way you want in spite of the things that scare you, just... I don’t know what else to say. I needed you this past year, I’ve always needed you, and I know I never said it but you may have saved me too. So please keep being unapologetic and please keep being my badass best friend because you might not know it, but you inspired me a lot these past few years. You inspire me now. And I wouldn’t be who I am without you. So yeah, Bren, I am proud of you, for being someone you don’t even know you are.”

“God, you’re gonna make me fucking cry. It’s seven thirty in the morning, Dallon, and my eyeliner is already smudged!” He smacked Dallon’s arm and they both laughed, and Brendon put a hand on his cheek and tilted his head toward him and pressed their smiles together. Because sometimes words didn’t work out for him so he let it dwell for a second, pushing his lips against Dallon’s instead of talking. Talking, he was no good at. And, well, he sucked at this too, but he ran out of options.

Dallon smiled against his mouth and looped his fingers around his wrist, inexplicably happy, and sometimes he made it worth it. Sometimes things had to balance out, and even if he had a few bad months, he had a lot of good ones, too. Maybe he should be proud of himself for that alone.

“That was so fucking cheesy.” Brendon pulled away to whisper, but tears pooled in his eyes anyway. “C’mere.” He pulled him into a hug, arms tight around his neck, because he didn’t know how else to thank him. “I’m proud of you too, you know. I don’t have a speech prepared, but just know that I am.”

“I believe you,” Dallon laughed. And Brendon pulled away, overwhelmed, because sometimes, somehow, Dallon knew everything he needed to hear. Another piece of magic that Brendon found himself wondering about from time to time.

“C’mon, we should get going. I don’t wanna be late on the first day of the year.” He pushed at Dallon’s shoulder, smiling in appreciation when their eyes met and Dallon’s hands settled on the wheel. There were a million ways to thank him, and in time Brendon would never find one that ever amounted to what Dallon did for him.

Dallon looked like the definition of new year, new me. And Brendon felt safe with his support, but he could only wish that the new year would in fact bring upon a new him. But he was the same old Brendon, with the same not so old mental illness. Some things couldn’t be reinvented no matter how desperately he wished they could.

Brendon looked Dallon over as they made their way down the main hallway, past Dallon’s nearly completed mural. Brendon had been so busy feeling sorry for himself that he hadn't even realized that there were only a few finishing touches left. It looked beautiful. “You know, you kind of look like a punk. Or emo, or grunge or something.”

Dallon half smiled and extended his fingers in between Brendon’s, tightening their interlocked hands. “How do you figure?”

He gave him a look as if to say that it was obvious, because, well. “Um. Sparkly pants, edgy bomber jacket, nose piercing, black eyeliner.”

Dallon let out a laugh and threw his head back, making his boyfriend smile a little wider. “Okay, that’s fair. Just means no one will mess with me.” He bent his arm in front of him to show his muscles when that was really just inefficient, and Brendon smiled again as he reached out to grab Dallon’s other hand with his free one.

“Hey, c’mere.” Brendon let go of both hands only when he’d coerced Dallon into a hug, tangling their fingers together at their sides. “Thank you. Really.”

“Sure thing, baby Urie.” He pulled away to twist Brendon around under his arm, urging a riant giggle from the smaller boy. “I’ll see you in class, yes?”

“Yes. I’ll see you, sunshine.” Brendon was reluctant to let go of Dallon’s hands so they held on for as long as possible until they were too far to touch, and Brendon blew a kiss and Dallon winked and then Brendon turned to walk to class and smiled to himself, because sometimes the little things just did that.

Brendon was back in Ms. Kenny’s office at his usual time, picking at the skin by his fingernails and ranting about things he couldn’t control. About the party, about new year’s, how he ended up in his parents’ bed. He thought that he didn’t have to regress anymore, he thought he was fine, but... healing took longer than he’d thought.

He took a sip of the orange soda in his hand, she and his little secret. “I keep having these short moments of clarity where I think everything is okay and then realizing that it’s not. Like when I wake up, or when I’m with Dallon, or when I’m busy at work and not thinking. Part of me functions on automatic and doesn’t realize until my brain has an input that there’s something wrong.”

“That’s normal, Brendon.”

“I know. And that’s what you keep saying, that it’s normal, everything is normal, and I’m sure it is for people like me, but it doesn’t feel normal. It feels like I’m just... dwelling. It’s like...” He waved his hands around, thinking about his Christmas break and wasted time and all his stupid, pent up anxiety. “I was reading all these blog posts about recovery. My brother suggested I figure out how other people recover to find out how I can too. And after reading all of these people’s real, actual problems, it feels so artificial, you know? Me saying that I’m recovering. Me saying I’m a victim.” He made a face, mocking himself for it even now.

“You are recovering.” She pointed out.

“That’s not what it feels like, though.” He argued, because he wasn’t recovering. He was running around in circles like a dog chasing its tail. “It feels like I was just overdramatizing again. Like, a few bad things happen to me and all of a sudden I’m all PTSD and forever changed. But isn’t that so selfish and wrong? Like, okay, I was bullied. Big deal. Someone drugged me, whatever, I didn’t die, I wasn’t, like, hurt. And maybe some kid touched me without permission but so what? That’s not trauma. At least I don’t think it is, anyway. But, like, I was hearing about real problems. People being raped by family members, their loved ones dying or killing themselves, surviving serious accidents or cancer or, I don’t know. Insert terrifying experience here. Those are real problems. Mine just seem so trivial now.”

“Brendon, a lot of people do this. Invalidate their own trauma and illness and recovery because they aren’t like everyone else. These are experiences, Brendon. Not objective facts. You may not see yourself as a person who was hurt and needs help, but that’s what you are. Whether or not you believe the gravity of the situation calls for a label of being traumatic, you’re still affected. You went through something; it was out of your control. Pair that with an already existing undiagnosed mental illness, and... well, you see where you are. You don’t have to refer to yourself as a victim, but your problems are valid. You went through a lot and now you’re working on recovery.”

Brendon almost rolled his eyes but decided against it, instead criss-crossed his legs in the chair and picked at his socks. When you say a word ten times it stops sounding like a real word and starts to sound like gibberish instead. It loses its meaning. Brendon’s tongue and ears had exhausted the word recovery, it was so boring, so tiring, made him want to vomit because it was repulsively cliché. He wasn’t recovering. He was just whining about it and pretending it was helping.

“Recovery. I hate that word.” He said, and it left a foreign and bitter taste in his mouth. “What does it even mean? Getting better? I’m not getting better. I’m not taking steps at getting better.”

“Of course you are. You’re coming to counseling, and you’re taking medication. Brendon, you got diagnosed and are getting help. It’s good that you recognized something was wrong and proceeded to seek help. That led you to getting diagnosed. That’s recovery.”

“I just can’t help but feel like I’m a fraud, somehow,” Brendon admitted, playing with a stupid loose thread on his pants and wondering why every goddamn piece of clothing he owned had a loose thread. Like everything was just so close to coming undone. “Like my problems aren’t real problems. Like I’m not really ‘recovering’. I’m just in this weird limbo state between fucked up and... well, something I can’t really see yet. I feel like I should be better because my problems aren’t even comparable to some people’s. I feel like it’s taking so long when it shouldn’t. Does that make me fake? Or am I just weak for not being able to get better soon enough?”

“You were traumatized, Brendon. You can’t snap your fingers and revert back to your former self. Things are different now. You’re different. And your diagnosis and medication should help, and you’ve got your support system and of course me to talk to, but no one ever said that this was going to be easy. You expect one good day to turn into a good rest of your life, but it’s something you have to work at every day. Bettering yourself. Trying to move past everything that hurt you and overcome it all. There’s no time stamp on feeling better. It just happens.”

“It’s just... it’s a new year. I want to be okay already.”

Ms. Kenny sighed, tilted her head like she knew Brendon wasn’t going to like what she had to say. “Recovery is a marathon, Brendon. Not a sprint.”

“I wish I could just run faster.” He picked at a piece of lint on the knee of his leggings. A terrible analogy, considering the fact that Brendon hated running. He tried to avoid all physical activity, actually. “But I’m too tired. I feel like I’m always tired.”

She hummed and scribbled something down, making Brendon peek up suspiciously at her. “Do you think it may have something to do with the medicine? I know you were on the fence about having to take it.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I know it takes some time to adapt to but I feel like it’s not really doing anything. I’m still anxious and sad.”

“It’s a process, Brendon.” She said, and right. Everything was a process. He just wished the process wasn’t so long.

There was a knock at the door, and Brendon looked up when someone poked their head in. She looked at Brendon, but he was done, anyway, he should probably get some work done and he didn’t feel like he could resolve any of this with a conversation. “I think I’m good.” He said, getting up and grabbing his bag. “I’ll see you next week.”

“You will. Remember what I said.” She nodded, in this way that was reminiscent of a mystical being in a TV special. A secret between him and someone who knew more than anyone. He wished that were the case. He didn’t know enough to have a secret like that.

“Yeah, I will.” He promised, but tears pooled in his eyes as he made his way down the staircase, anyway.

* * *

He was scared to use the school bathroom now; no one could blame him. He refused to go when no one could go with him. But in the middle of a test when he had to go it was the standard rule. No two students were allowed to leave the room at once. So he held onto the hall pass with a tight grip as he looked around cautiously, headed to the nurse's office because they let him use their bathroom when he needed to.

He was halfway down the first floor hallway when a boy he recognized emerged from a classroom and scoffed at him almost immediately, wasting no time because none of these guys seemed to. Brendon clucked his tongue and lowered his head, avoiding his gaze though there was no need. They didn't need eye contact to get to him.

"On your way to rape someone else?" The guy asked, following Brendon without an invitation.

"Leave me alone." He muttered, quickening his pace.

"I'm not shocked. I mean, everyone knows what you do. You're not fooling anybody. Stop pretending to be innocent. No one thinks you're cute." He sneered, and Brendon didn't know when he'd ever said he was cute but telling him that he was pretending to be innocent hurt. "Stop preying on straight boys. Fucking fags are always trying to convert normal people. Just take what you can get and leave us the fuck alone."

Tears slid down his cheeks and he slipped into the nurse's office, trying to shut out the words because he didn't believe them. He couldn't believe them. Or he didn't want to, anyway.

"Hey, Brendon. Is everything okay?" One of the nurses asked when the door fell shut behind him. He wiped his cheeks, nodding, lying, he always lied, and held up his hall pass.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just came to use the bathroom. Can I?"

"Of course." She reached out a hand with the bathroom key so he accepted it, nodding gratefully, and went to let himself into the single bathroom where no one could hurt him.

Locking the door, he looked at himself in the mirror, wiping tears away like dirt to reveal disgust clear in his eyes. He wasn't the same person as he was before. He knew that. He had a reputation now. He just wanted to figure out how not to let that define him.

* * *

“How was your day?” Dallon asked that afternoon, just like routine, as Brendon kissed him on the cheek and crawled into the passenger seat. Brendon shrugged, didn't want to tell him what had happened, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of feeling incomplete. Like a part of him just... ceased to exist.

“Kinda shitty. I’m tired and feel gross and I just wanna lay down.” He shrugged, buckling his seatbelt, not mentioning the incident in the hall, and Dallon stuck the key in the ignition.

“Well, then let’s go lay down. I have no homework right now and I could use some cuddling, anyway.” He reached out to bump his fist against Brendon’s thigh. “I gotcha, killer.”

“You’re a good one.” Brendon sighed, leaning his head back against the seat and letting his eyes slip shut because he could probably navigate the rest of his life with his eyes closed. “How was yours? Have fun with your sparkly pants?”

“So much fun.” Dallon laughed, and Brendon tried to smile but couldn’t find it in him all of a sudden. “I’m gonna borrow some sweatpants, though. Jeans are so uncomfortable. I think I’m gonna start being you and just wear leggings every day for the rest of my life.”

“That’s the best idea.” Brendon punched his thigh back, and Dallon grabbed his hand like he was grabbing something lost and found, treading the water between becoming lost again. “It works for me.”

“I know.” Dallon agreed, and pretended to check him out before he tangled their fingers together and kissed the back of Brendon’s hand. “But my ass isn’t as nice as yours, so.”

“Please, your ass is fucking perfect.” Brendon argued, and they exchanged stupid fake grins as Dallon pulled out of the parking lot and into the street.

Brendon settled down in bed when he got home, moody and pouty and not willing to talk about it. Dallon went to wash his hands and get a snack while Brendon sat and stared aimlessly at the wall for a minute, trying to figure out what to do because he didn’t want to talk and he didn’t want Dallon to know that he was having an off day. He sat there, unusually numb, until he got up to follow Dallon to the kitchen.

Downstairs, Dallon was moving across the room and searching for some sort of snack as Brendon’s mother prepared dinner for later. She greeted Dallon as he stepped into the kitchen and he said hello back, unbeknownst to the skeptical boy making his way down the stairs.

“Hey, I have something for you, actually.” Dallon mentioned suddenly. She glanced up and raised her eyebrows expectantly, watching as Dallon reached into his back pocket. He pulled out a small piece of paper, a photo, and extended it to her, and her look of curiosity faded into a smile when she caught sight of the subject. “I took this over the summer, when he and I went to the lake to take pictures for my portfolio. He was so happy.”

Brendon stepped down the last stair quietly in his socks and stopped at the bottom to catch the last of Dallon’s words. He peeked into the kitchen just long enough to see his mother looking over at something in Dallon’s hand, and then pulled back to slide across the wood floors and press his back against the wall so that they wouldn’t catch him eavesdropping. He closed his eyes, breathed in quiet breaths, and only when he heard his mother’s response did he let them fall open again.

"He looks so happy. Look at his smile." Were they talking about him? They had to be. Brendon had a wonderful smile. They both thought so.

"I know, this is one of my favorites. He's gorgeous, isn't he?" He could hear the smile in Dallon’s voice. And sure enough, on the other side of the wall, Dallon was smiling, smiling for better days and hearts that connected on easy summer nights. The nights where Brendon sat in the passenger seat smiling, counting the colors in Dallon’s eyes as he told him about his night, when they slept in each other’s arms so intricately as if it were an art they had mastered, and only them. Days they smiled, nights they fell in love. Before Brendon fell out of line.

"Yeah, he is." She sighed, and Dallon frowned empathetically at the sorrow in the simple breath. At how sad it must be to see your child go through something so life changing. Something in his chest tightened, the frown on her lips was one he’d seen on Brendon one too many times, and he offered the photo to her without a word. A silent peace offering. She accepted it with a grateful nod, a thank you for the reminder of the past, and Dallon reached up to rub her shoulder supportively. "I miss him. I know it's not his fault, what happened, but... I hate seeing him so sad. He's my baby. I never wanted this for him."

Dallon turned to look at her, eyebrows furrowed, and met a pair of brown eyes that resembled Brendon’s all too well. "What do you mean? You never wanted this for him...?"

She looked down at the photo of her son, his eyes big and curious, full of light. The way the sunlight beamed over his shoulder and how it put him right in the foreground, his smile baring teeth as he grinned. His right eye squinted more than the left, crinkles in the corners. A symbol of his true and unsaturated happiness. "Um, I haven't told him, but we have a history of depression in the family. I didn't wanna mention it to him, but I'm not surprised that it happened. I just... Brendon's always been fragile. I just worry about him.”

Something in his stomach dropped just then. Something intangible, or maybe it was his heart. But it was something that hurt too much to bear, and he didn’t want to hear any more. He bolted up the stairs and to his room before Dallon’s answer came, and he crawled into bed and buried his face in his pillow, trying to blink back tears. He was supposed to trust his mom. So why was she hiding something so crucial? Brendon had nothing left. He didn’t have his dignity and he didn’t have his innocence, all that he had left was his truth. He wouldn’t let anybody take that away from him.

She resented him. She had to. Brendon’s siblings did well and she hoped he’d be on a good path too. But he fell off the tracks and wound up on the ground with dirt in his mouth and scraped hands and knees, bloody and bruised and confused. Where the hell was he going now? His boyfriend was spending his senior year taking care of him, his mom was wasting time worrying about him, and he didn’t know how to make it up to them or if he ever could.

All of a sudden his bedroom door opened to reveal Dallon with a bag of chips in hand and two cans of soda from the fridge. Brendon wiped his eyes when Dallon turned to close the door almost all the way, and he forced a smile when he caught his eye. He was becoming adept at pretending to be okay. He had to do it for a while. Until he had things figured out.

It was scary to think that this was the crystal ball to his future. A pathetic, pitiful failure.

“You okay?” Dallon asked as he set the snacks down on Brendon’s bed. Brendon nodded and when Dallon took a seat beside him, he leaned in to kiss his cheek. Dallon wasn’t lying. He was just hiding the truth. Besides, it was his mother’s to tell. Dallon had no place.

“Yeah. Yeah.” He looked down, bit at his lip so he wouldn’t make a sound. “Just... yeah.”

“Okay, weirdo. C’mere.” Dallon hooked an arm around his neck and leaned in to bump their noses together playfully. “Hey, you wanna watch a movie or something?” He asked, seemingly oblivious to the worry cast in Brendon’s eyes. Brendon nodded, though, tried to feign a smile because really, it wasn’t Dallon’s fault. He couldn’t blame him for it.

Dallon knew a lot more than Brendon thought he did. It was why Brendon felt so safe talking to him sometimes, but it was also why he felt like he needed to hide things. Because he knew Dallon knew this system: the overthinking, self-blaming, fiery temperament aspect of it. He knew Dallon knew what it was like to be guilty, too. Brendon wasn’t like him, didn’t know all that much, but what he did know was that he was kind of a disappointment. He didn’t need to be that for Dallon too.

He didn’t have to know that Brendon heard. That he knew he was hiding something too, something his mother told him in confidence but how stupid did they think Brendon was? Did they really think he wouldn’t figure it all out? Of course they missed him and loved him and blah blah blah, but he wasn’t something for them to miss and love. He was himself. Brendon Urie, his own person. Depressed, scared, confused. But his own.

He was getting so sick of everything lately. Sitting still, doing homework, watching movies because every life was somehow better than his. He could even find silver linings in those prison documentaries Dallon loved so much. He was just... tired. Found no use in watching movies or doing homework or caring about anything, for that matter, because everything led to the same end. An end Brendon was starting to think a lot about.

“Alright,” Dallon announced with a sigh at some point when his math homework was half done and Brendon was idly playing with a pencil, avoiding his own work like the plague. “I gotta get home. My mom is sticking to her promise of keeping me and Jack apart and she said that she would make dinner for just me and her tonight. An omen for a good year, or something, I like to think.”

“I’m glad.” Brendon’s gaze followed him when he stood, a little melancholic but otherwise honest. Dallon didn’t have to be miserable just because he was. “You seem happy lately.”

“I’m trying to be.” Dallon shrugged, tugging on a hoodie he more or less was stealing from his boyfriend. Brendon watched him raise his arms above his head, turning when he saw a pale slice of stomach between the hem of his pants and his shirt. “You don’t mind if I borrow this?”

“I’m sure I’ll end up back in it sooner or later.” As he picked up his backpack Brendon turned to look at him again, fabricated another smile though they both knew it. But what was the point in bringing it up? “Hey, Dallon?” He added, and Dallon turned to catch his gaze. “Do you really think a new year can be a way to change who you are?”

Dallon shrugged, straightening out the stolen sweatshirt. “Yes and no. I like to believe in that philosophy. New year new me. I just think it’s more gradual than instant. You set these resolutions but never follow through with them because you can’t predict the next year of your life. Everything just sort of happens to you. And every year you get a little better, learn some lessons, improve yourself a little bit. And then eventually, if you’re lucky, you’ll get to a place where you learn enough lessons and improve yourself enough that you don’t completely hate who you’ve become.”

Brendon tried to smile when Dallon looked him over, playing with the fringe on a throw blanket as he tried to take it to heart. If that was true, then it took years to get better. He didn’t want to wait years. He didn’t have years. “How’s that going?”

“I’m working on it.” Dallon said honestly, like it were a plan set in stone. Trying to be better.

Brendon wanted to be better too. He was just a little lost on how to do that.

“Hey, um. Before you leave, can you please tell my mom to come up here? I need to talk to her about something.” Dallon didn’t have to know. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

“Sure, kitten.” He placed a hand on Brendon’s shoulder and pressed a kiss to his lips before he started toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He agreed, and waited until Dallon was gone to let out a long, drawn out sigh. Dallon was the brightest star in a world without light, and Brendon knew that he would somehow find a way to dull him. It would never be intentional, but he would do it, and it would hurt.

But he couldn’t let him think about that. He couldn’t fix himself, so there was no use. He’d spend the rest of his life trying to keep Dallon safe, but how could he keep him safe when he couldn’t feel safe himself?

Brendon looked up at the knock at the door and knew. He could have pretended that he hadn’t heard anything, could have ignored it and continued to keep everything bottled up like he always did. But he stood there in the hallway and listened to his mother say that she missed him. He was right there, but he wasn’t the Brendon they all knew and loved. He was different. He was wrong.

She entered the room cautiously and took a seat on the edge of his bed before she laid down beside him. No words were exchanged, but they both knew something was wrong. Tears slid down his cheeks, and if he had any doubt that she didn’t realize, he knew when he saw the look in her eye before he turned away. They were dangerously quiet, the air of the room timid and tense, but there were so many things Brendon needed to say. He was getting tired of not saying them.

He closed his eyes to block out the spinning room around him and pushed his nose against his fist, sniffling quietly. "I heard you talking to Dallon in the kitchen. About how you miss when I was happy. And I wanted to say that I'm not, like, broken or anything. It's just... I need a little bit of time. I know you don't like seeing me like this but I can't help it."

She shook her head gently. “I don’t think you’re broken, Bren. I just wish that things were different. I wish you felt safe.” She placed her hand on his gently, and he sniffled again. He hadn’t felt safe for months. Not with his family, not with Dallon, not where he should feel safer than anywhere. It was a harsh reality that he was just now coming to terms with: he was shutting people out because he was scared that things would never return to how they were before. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to protect you and keep you from being hurt.”

She wanted to protect him, and that was why she did what she did. It all made sense when he wasn’t hearing it from hiding. He could understand that in some aspects but still, there was a piece of him that resented himself for being in such a delicate place. If he wasn’t like this then nobody would have to lie to protect his feelings. Things would always come around to being his own fault. "I also heard that..." He sighed, fumbling with his words. She wanted to protect him, but at what cost? "Why didn't you tell me that we have a history of depression in the family?"

She was quiet for a second as she watched the ceiling pensively. Brendon wasn’t sure if she could decipher the dinosaur holding a cake or not, but as he asked for its advice he calculated that his mother wasn’t mad. She was upset, disappointed maybe, but not mad. She let out another sigh, one that made anxiety twist seamlessly in Brendon’s stomach, and he felt her wrap her fingers around his hand.

"Because, keiki, you've been through so much. I couldn't make you worry about anything else. It doesn’t change anything. It was never certain that this was going to happen to you. We couldn’t have possibly known. It’s always been a part of you but just recently it’s begun to manifest itself after the traumatic experience. That’s what the doctor said when I talked to her. Nothing is different. You’re still you.”

"That’s the thing, though, mama. I’m not.” He argued. “I wanted to know who I'm supposed to be so bad this summer and I tried to find myself and it all seemed so easy but it’s not. Nothing is easy anymore. I thought I was just starting to figure out who I am but I haven’t and I— I don’t think I ever will.” He squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to hold back tears. There were some conversations he couldn’t let himself break down during. This was one of them. He couldn’t make her feel worse. “I can’t find the old me in myself, but I’ve tried. I know I’m letting you down, and I know you wish I was happy, but I don’t think I can be. I don’t think I ever have been. I just... don't want you to treat me like I'm completely ruined."

“I don’t think you’re ruined, honey. You’re in a bad place, that doesn’t mean you won’t get better eventually. You just have to try. We all have to try.”

“There’s no use in trying anymore. I’ve tried enough and it hasn’t gotten me anywhere.” He turned onto his side, suddenly feeling a lot more useless, and curled up just as she was turning to look at his back. “I wanna be alone.”

Trying. Please. He’d spent his whole life trying. Trying to be who the world wanted him to be, society's standards and his parents’ and everyone else’s, but he wanted to just be. He always wanted to blend in with the rest of them, not stand out embarrassingly, be the boy his parents would have been proud of. The best boyfriend and friend he could be. Well, he’d failed at all of those, and surprise, he was still failing. Trying wasn’t any use for him. He was giving up.

“Okay.” She pat his arm and got out of his bed, heart breaking with every move as her son lay crying with his back to her, continuing to shut her out. He was returning to the old part of him he’d hoped he lost forever, the one that built the wall that hadn’t come down for years. That thing was strenuous, but he could feel himself rebuilding it. As he blinked at his new reality, his mom whispered from the door, "I'm proud of you, Bren."

He buried his face in the pillow and looked at the wall apathetically, tears wetting his cheeks. "You shouldn’t be.”

She sighed, but didn't refute. Brendon was going to take time, and she wasn’t going to rush him. She couldn’t. “I love you, kid. Get some rest.” It was a demand, not a suggestion, and Brendon’s eyes were already falling shut. Fighting with your demons was kind of exhausting after having to do it for months. Weakly, Brendon nodded, reaching up to swipe his fingers under his eyes. He’d apologize later, but right now he needed to sleep.

* * *

It was dark out when Brendon woke up alone, tangled in the sheets of his bed. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at his ceiling, heart pounding from the nightmare that had startled him awake. He sat up, sweat on his forehead, and rubbed at his face in distress. It was the third day of the year and Brendon was already falling apart completely. This wasn’t who he wanted to be.

He climbed out of bed and snuck out of the room, the light was on underneath his parent’s door. He took a deep breath and before he could stop himself, knocked quietly on the door, waiting for his mother to tell him to come in before he pushed it open. He forced a smile, and she set aside the shirt she had been folding, hanging it over the edge of the laundry basket. She quirked an eyebrow as if to say hello, what do you need, and he stepped across the floor to approach her bed slowly.

“I’m sorry I was mean. And I’m sorry I’ve been so difficult lately. And I wish I could be better but I’m not. And I don’t know how to be okay.”

“Brendon, I’m not mad at you. Come here.” She extended an arm, so he went to sit beside her with tears pooling in his eyes. “Baby, look. I love when you’re happy, you know I do, but I can’t force that on you. You’re going through a lot and I understand that. But I don’t want you to pretend to be something you’re not. It might take a lot longer to get better, and that’s okay. We’re gonna work at it, I promise, but for now, I want you to know that I love you and I want you to feel safe in this home. I won’t let anybody hurt you.”

“Okay.” He accepted her hug and replayed it in his head. Nobody could hurt him. Hell, he’d been hurt enough. A little bit of salt in the wound was nothing.

Let the demons laugh. He would never let them put that damn wall back up.

* * *

His footsteps were almost silent against the wood floor as he crept through the house, stepping over the threshold of the kitchen and folding his arms when Matt looked up at him. It was cold tonight, the heat hadn't come on yet, and he found a stolen sweater of Dallon's in his drawer that felt perfect when he needed comfort. "Hey." He peeped, nodding his head in a greeting.

"Hi, little brother." Matt nodded back at him. "What are you doing up?"

Brendon shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. He didn't really know anything that he was doing anymore. He was kind of just hoping that someone else would help him figure that out. "I don't know. Can't sleep. Napped earlier."

"Hm." Matt closed his laptop a little and Brendon took a deep breath, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "How was your day?"

Brendon rolled his eyes as he remembered it, shaking his head. It was humiliating. "This kid said something to me in the hall today. About how I'm pretending to be innocent and that I think I'm cute and apparently I'm a rapist who coerces straight boys. So."

"Oh, Brendon." His brother sighed and Brendon nodded, folding his arms and suddenly feeling pitied again. He hated feeling pitied.

"It sucks. I don't know what to do. It's fucking—" Pathetic, he was going to say, but stopped himself because he didn't have to say it. He knew already. "Look. Mama made me delete Twitter. Can I use yours?"

Matt gave him a look, clearly hesitant though within reason. Brendon wasn't strong enough to hear the rumors. "Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"No, but I just..." He shifted again, looking away from his brother's eyes. "They're saying things about me and I need to see it. I need to know." Matt looked between he and his laptop, clucking his tongue. "Matt, please. I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate."

"Fine, Bren, but don't get mad at me for showing you." He typed something into the browser and Brendon rushed to sit down, pulling the computer toward him and typing his name into the search bar. The account was still up, Dallon had reported it but it never got taken down. He scrolled shakily, his determination faltering. Everyone hated him. Everyone really fucking hated him.

Slut. Cheater. Faggot. He was reduced to a few words on a screen and a bad reputation.

"Shit." He whispered under his breath as he stopped scrolling. Suddenly he felt hot all over, his pulse picking up, this was stupid, this was so stupid, he should have just listened to everyone, and—

"Are you okay?" Matt asked carefully, examining his face for fear.

"Yeah." He closed out of the tab quickly, slamming his laptop shut. "Yeah. I'm fine. Uh. I'm gonna go to bed. Thanks, Matt."

"Sure." He watched with concern as Brendon got up, starting back toward the stairs. This was a stupid idea. He didn't know what he was thinking. "Hey, Brendon." Matt added, and Brendon turned again, feeling uneasy and dizzy, all of a sudden. "This'll pass soon. Until then, don't let strangers get to you. You're better than that."

"Yeah. Thanks." Brendon sighed, but he really, really doubted that he was.

* * *

It was something that he hadn’t felt in years. It hadn’t even come up, really. He’d been focused on other parts of his life; he’d been growing and changing and getting to know his new self. He never thought about who he was years ago. But sometimes it came creeping back to him, sometimes when he was laying awake at night feeling like the world had its hand wrapped around his neck. He wanted to pray.

He didn’t understand how to talk to God. He wasn’t sure he could remember. So he just laid in bed and stared at the ceiling. Dear God. Was that okay? Did he have to introduce himself, or wasn’t he technically God’s child? God would know the name of his own kid. Fuck, Brendon didn’t know how to do this. Fuck, he was swearing at God! He wasn’t supposed to do that, right? It was so complicated.

He sighed, covering his face with his hands. He went to church for a while, back when he was growing up. Back before he got scared and only went once in a while, when he felt up to it, and for a short while until he came out to his parents. His only vague remembrance was a boy, one with dirty blonde hair, who always sat at the opposite side of the pew as him. He was six at the time, but he always looked around to catch his gaze, blue eyes, Brendon had always loved blue eyes, and smiled at him even though the boy always looked away. Brendon wanted to be friends with him, maybe. Or maybe it was his own unique telling of the “in a way, I think I always knew” story.

He wondered how that boy was. After he had gone back to church when he was twelve, after therapy sessions that had left him more understanding of his fears, he hadn’t been there any longer, and Brendon never even knew his name. Knew it was probably important to learn the names of the people in your church, but it never really seemed important to him. Still, he wondered about that boy, if he was still up at night praying. Hopefully for a reason much more heartfelt than Brendon.

He rolled over onto his side and pulled his pillow up against his chest. Maybe the reason he couldn’t remember how to pray was because he was always so focused on the boy at the end of the pew.

The next day, Brendon was back in Dallon’s bedroom, a new year and hopefully a new him. He’d changed a few photos, added a few new ones for the new year, and Brendon had examined the wall for a few minutes in silence before he went to lay down in Dallon’s bed. A new year, and he was already exhausted. But he was trying, anyway, to figure some things out and fit himself back into a box. A good one, a safe one. How did he get back to feeling safe?

“I tried to pray yesterday.” Brendon said suddenly, cutting through the silence of the room. Dallon glanced up from his phone, and Brendon began to pick at his nail polish. “But I haven’t tried to pray in years. I went to church with my family when I was younger but when I started getting really scared I just kinda stopped going. I think I was scared of God too. And I think a part of me is still scared of him. Because the idea of someone having my life in their hands is totally intimidating and I don’t like not being in control. I’ve felt so out of control lately.”

Dallon shifted in his seat and set his phone down on the desk. “God is who you think he is, Brendon. You don’t have to see him as some orphic who has your whole life mapped out. I see him as a spirit that watches out for us. Everybody thinks differently. They view him differently, talk to him, pray to him. You don’t have to think of him as somebody who will take the wheel when you can’t.” He shook his head as if to say it were that simple. “I don’t.”

“I just... I didn’t feel anything. And I feel bad about it. I feel like...” He sighed in distress. Why the hell didn’t he feel anything?! “I feel like I should have some sort of connection to God, that’s how I was raised, but I don’t. I didn’t experience some feeling of clarity. But I don’t know. I know you’re supposed to do it often and strengthen your relationship and sometimes you’ll feel like he can hear you and will answer you but... I didn’t feel anything.”

Wearing a frown, Dallon got up from the desk chair to crawl onto the bed and join a confused Brendon. He felt like he was rejoining life after far too much time away, and he was still learning all the basics. Taking baby steps. But this was a bigger leap. “That’s okay.” He placed a hand on his knee. “You don’t have to feel anything. You don’t even have to believe.”

Brendon tilted his head like that wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but Dallon could only do so much remedying when Brendon was asking such unanswerable questions. “Do you pray?”

Dallon nodded as Brendon’s fingers mindlessly found his own. “As much as I can. When I’m in a bad place, mostly. I thank him that I’m still alive and in good health and I ask him for guidance. Sometimes I pray for me. Sometimes I pray for others. It doesn’t have to be complicated. It’s just... a belief. That you can find your way again. And I mean all that in the least preachy way, of course.”

Brendon studied his face, tried to imagine him praying. “You pray for others?”

“Yeah. I’ve prayed for you.” He nodded his head toward him idly, like it was nothing, but it wasn’t, because his boyfriend had been talking behind his back to God. That was a big conversation.

Brendon didn’t know what to say. Didn’t that mean something? “What? Why?”

He shrugged, and Brendon guessed maybe it wasn’t as big a deal as he thought. “I mean, sometimes I just feel like I should. Like I’m lucky that you’re here and I have to thank God for you. And sometimes I pray that you’ll be happy, or safe, or whatever. I didn’t for a while, because I didn’t have to, but... the weekend after we fought. I went to the chapel at the hospital and I prayed for you. Because I swore I’d never hurt you.”

Brendon wouldn’t say that that was a promise they both found broken. It had long since remedied and they had formed new promises, better promises, ones not as unrealistic. Dallon did his best. Brendon was trying too. “I feel like I would have felt it, or something.” He said quietly, picking at the skin around his nails pensively on the hand that Dallon wasn’t holding. “Like I would have known you were doing it.”

Dallon let himself laugh, and yeah, it was funny. Stupid, too. Kind of ridiculous. “Things aren’t that simple, baby.”

Brendon nodded like he were being given a valuable lesson from a priest and scratched at Dallon’s thumb, watching his eyes carefully because he was still trying to figure it all out. “So how do you pray?”

“You address him. Express your gratitude, and tell him what you need to. Ask for help. You won’t always receive it but sometimes it puts things in a different light. Don’t stress out about it too much.” He pat his knee with finality, and Brendon looked down at his hand. Wondered if God created it, how He had done it so perfectly. Wondered if He was the reason Brendon was feeling the way he was.

That night, Brendon laid on his back in bed. He stared up at the ceiling, past the dinosaur holding a cake, and imagined just how heaven worked. Would he end up in heaven? There were too many factors to tell yet, he guessed. In the eyes of the church he was already committing a sin. A lot of sins. If any of it was even real, that is. He’d spent a long time waging internal wars with himself about things that he’d never know. He’d heard about it all in church, but he never really understood it. He liked the idea of reincarnation, though. Getting to live different lives. He wouldn’t mind another life.

But he looked up, and then he closed his eyes. He could really use some divine intervention. He pressed his hands together and sighed a deep, deep intake of breath, and as he exhaled tremulously, he began to pray.


	43. Chapter 42: If It Wasn’t Death

When Brendon could find some comfort in routine, he could breathe. So he spent a lot of time doing what he knew how to do: organizing. In just the span of a week he’d figured out that when he was finding out where things went, he wasn’t thinking about unfamiliar hands on his body, his betrayal, his infidelity. He was only thinking about how everything belonged. Just because he didn’t belong, didn’t mean nothing else did.

What are you doing became oh, Brendon’s cleaning again once everyone had heard the memo that the boy needed to clean what was on the outside in order to feel some semblance of sterility inside. But he couldn’t stop for a second to tell himself that this wouldn’t do a thing. It was a bandaid, if anything. Just some stupid way for him to feel better for a minute before he got to thinking again. Everything was just a deterrent to his thoughts.

“You know you don’t have to clean,” Kara told him one day as he stood on the kitchen counter, wiping an empty shelf with a rag rapidly like it were a race he was miserably losing. He glanced up at her, eyes flickering toward his feet to make sure he wasn’t totally on the edge, and shrugged. He knew he didn’t have to. It just felt like he was running out of options.

“I know. It just makes me feel better, I guess. I’ve tried everything else. None of it has worked.” He turned back to sweep away more dust.

“Elaborate,” Kara requested, and Brendon turned again, frowned because how did he possibly put it into words? He didn’t quite know himself.

“For the past few months I’ve felt so... dirty. It just feels like since what happened, my body lost all of its purity and now I’m just dirty and damaged and I feel so physically and mentally wrong. And I don’t know what to do, you know? I’m trying. I’m trying to get back to normal. And my counselor has tried to help and so has Dallon, but nothing is working. I try to write down my feelings but I don’t even know what to say. I try to make peace with it but I can’t. I tried to pray, Kara. And I know I told mama and daddy that I didn’t really believe in God and that I didn’t wanna be a part of the church. But now I’m realizing that I have no fucking control and I need to think that someone is taking care of me. Maybe that’s God, or maybe I’m just being an idiot and I have to do everything for myself.”

She took a seat at the table pensively. “You know, little one, it’s not quite that simple. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t know anything about depression. But I do know that it’s normal to feel dirty after what happened to you. And it’s also normal to want to find something to help make you feel better.” She folded her arms, watched him look around the kitchen in defeat. Fuck this. “This is confusing for you, huh?”

“Yeah, it is. It really fucking is.” He dropped the rag in his hand and leaned his head back against the counter. A headache was starting to form in his cerebral cortex, and maybe it was about time he tore that out. He needed a lobotomy, or something. He needed to be cut open, sliced through, he needed to bleed out and dig through his bones for the truth. What was the point in having a sane mind anyway? “I’m just... doing whatever makes me feel better.”

“You’re trying to find a place for everything.” She said, and he nodded. “You’re playing God.”

He opened his eyes, looked at her and then the cabinet, significantly cleaner than it had been before he’d gotten to it. “Well, someone has to do his job.” He shrugged, and she only smiled as footsteps caught his attention and their oldest brother stepped into the kitchen.

“Hey.” Mason greeted, and Kara lifted a hand though his gaze focused on Brendon. “Why are you on the counter?”

Brendon looked between what he was doing and his brother, whose eyebrows were furrowed in worry. He shrugged like he really just had no idea either. “Oh, you know. Just playing God.”

“Get down from there, you’re gonna fall and hurt yourself.” Mason approached him with arms out, and Brendon reached down to hold his shoulders as he grabbed his waist and picked him up carefully from the counter. He let him down, and Brendon startled when he wrapped an arm around him in a hug. “You doin’ okay, kid?”

Brendon returned the unexpected hug, and the height difference had his cheek pressed against his brother’s chest. Quietly, he admitted a simple, “No.”

“You need to give yourself a break, Brendon.” He sighed, running a hand up his back. “Relax for a minute.”

“Cleaning makes me feel better.” Brendon muttered against his shirt. It always had, anyway. He used to use his washcloth to clean the side of the tub instead of himself during bath time. Mason rubbed his shoulder and pulled away to ruffle his hair, making him flustered because he wasn’t exactly used to the attention. “I don’t know what else to do anymore.”

“I guess you figure it out somewhere along the line.” He pat his shoulder, and he made it seem so easy. Like it was just gonna come to him. Brendon was afraid that he’d scared all the right answers off. “But cleaning is a good start, I guess. It’s good for all of us.”

“Might as well help you all out, too.” He figured. Let his misery benefit somebody.

“Well, look on the bright side, Bren. at least you’re not doing drugs. Cleaning is pretty innocent compared to that.” He pointed at him suggestively with eyebrows raised before he grabbed an apple from the basket on the table and disappeared from the room, leaving Brendon frowning. That didn’t make him feel any better.

“Thanks?”

“Mason.” Kara berated after him, and Brendon turned to look at her. Shrugged, plopped down at the table helplessly. And maybe in some way Mason was right, at least his coping mechanisms weren’t completely jarring. At least he had that going for him.

“He’s right. I could be shooting up in some back alley somewhere.” He reasoned, trying hard not to picture it. He didn’t need to think of himself that way. He didn’t want to get any ideas.

“I don’t think God would approve of that much,” Kara forced a smile, got up out of her seat.

Brendon half smiled back, or at least he thought he did. “You think I’m crazy.”

“No.” She laughed, shifting across the floor in her socks to wrap both arms around him from behind. “I don’t think you’re crazy, Brendon. I think you’re hurting, and you’re scared, and you’re trying to make sense of everything. There’s no fault in that.”

He slumped in his seat when she pressed a kiss to his temple. “I feel crazy.”

“We all do, sometimes.” She reasoned, and that was great, not even his feelings were unique. “But I know that you’re not wrong for feeling what you’re feeling. And for trying to get in control of it. Trying is important. It’s half the battle.”

“I feel like this is just some infinite battle.”

“Mental illness.” She alluded, and that couldn’t possibly be the answer to everything. It couldn’t be. He wanted a life. A personality. Not to be reduced to some diagnosis. “At some point, Bren, you will recover. But if you’re sick, I don’t think you can be cured. I think you just learn to cope. And maybe one day you’ll learn how to do that. In a way that’s not, y’know. Cleaning cabinets.”

He snorted, and that didn’t seem so likely. “Maybe.”

“Seriously, Brendon.” She added, and he turned to catch her gaze because it sounded oddly stoic for someone who was just speaking from her own perspective. “There’s no cure. There’s no one answer. There’s just a lot of trial and error and hopefully finding something that works.”

And Brendon nodded like he understood, but that couldn’t be it. Living the rest of his life sick. Like he should be in some hospital bed, confined in a room with no visitors or straightjacketed or worse, out in the world fake smiling and trying to make it real. Trying to trick himself into thinking it was real. Trying to trick others. He didn’t want to keep trying things that didn’t work. He didn’t want to live for seventy-five more years scared out of his mind, trying to fix it from the outside and having no place to go in the meantime.

He turned to look back at the cabinets and his abandoned rag, and he always had a backup plan.

* * *

Brendon Urie was down spiraling. It happened when one thing led to another and he let everything turn upside down. He’d done his dramatics, spent the year losing himself and finding himself and losing himself again, but he needed everything to be different because he was different. The fall had brought unto him a version of himself that he had yet to be introduced to, and that was a version he wished he could lock up: the depressed version. Brendon wanted no part in that.

Instead, he found ways to keep away from that. Try and figure himself out. He’d decided early on in the new year that he needed a little bit of room, and he’d mentioned it to Dallon one snowy day on the drive home. “I’ve been feeling detached, and if I ask for some time alone to try and get in touch with myself again, I might need it,” Brendon had said. Dallon nodded, told him that was fine, he could understand. But Brendon couldn’t help but feel guilty for even thinking it.

Midterms were the second week of the year and Brendon had spent his entire weekend studying, panicking, crying, repeat, as he felt like everything kept purposely trying to escape him. And he wasn’t feeling better, not with all the sleepless nights, and he lied to himself, told him he’d be fine. He didn’t have to get perfect grades. They didn’t define him. He just couldn’t shake the looming feeling of being a disappointment and a failure.

He was a failure. Putting everyone through hell. His family was full of saints to have to put up with him. Not to mention his boyfriend and friends and teachers, who took pity on him and gave him extra time on his homework. The list of people he needed to buy gratuity fruit baskets for was growing every day.

The worst part was that after he'd heard it from his mother, he couldn't unhear it: she missed him. She missed when he was happy. Missed his smile, his laugh, the way he joked around and offered sarcastic comments that normally everyone would say were too bitter. At least that piece of him had hung on, the fact that he was unbelievably bitter and angry at the world and unforgiving, but under different circumstances. He didn't want to be bitter anymore. He didn't want to be angry at the world and upset and hurt. He just wanted to be his old self, but he was still trying to find it.

"Brendon?"

Dallon's voice suggested that it had been calling for him for some time, but the boy couldn't be bothered to listen. A long week of midterms left him with eyes that burned from being open too long and a brain that had been melted to a film. He was pretty sure his motor skills were shot too, because the day prior at the diner, he dropped the coffee pot when he was trying to serve an elderly couple at the counter. He apologized a million times, but they promised that it was okay. They were regulars, knew Brendon by name, always left good tips. They left more than they usually had with a note written on a napkin that told him to use the money to buy more time to sleep, because he looked exhausted and overworked and he should be enjoying being a teenager. He appreciated the joke and the money and thanked them sincerely, but he couldn't enjoy being a teenager. Not when his innocence had been stolen.

"Yeah. Sorry. What's up?" Depleted, he turned to glance at him. He was wearing Brendon’s favorite jacket, the black one with the patches. On his chest was one that read ‘leave me alone’, and Brendon wished he had armor like that when he went out in the world.

“Nothing, nevermind. God, are you okay? You’ve been quiet like, all day. It’s not like you.”

“Mm.” He hummed, not a yes and not a no. He wouldn’t lie to Dallon but he wouldn’t tell him the truth, either. He didn’t need to know, anyway, it was just a bunch of feelings that got in the way. And besides, he’d do anything to keep that look of sympathy off his face. With a sigh when Dallon didn’t persist, Brendon looked out the window and snarled to himself. "I fucking hate January."

The air had a bite to it that only seemed to circle around for a few weeks, but this year it lingered much longer than it usually did. There were record lows, Brendon heard it on the weather one day. His father was watching it when he had gotten home from Dallon’s late at night. Record lows, and the thirty-degree wind was slipping in through the cracks even when Dallon twisted the heat up another notch, knowing how Brendon felt about the cold.

“I know how you feel. But it’ll be spring before you know it. This winter can’t possibly last forever.”

“God, I hope so.” Brendon sighed out, he really didn’t realize how much he meant it until Dallon had said it, but the past few weeks had stretched out so far and long that he couldn’t remember anything before October. Before... everything. “How are you?”

“I’m okay. My motivation is totally shot. I’m too tired to do art so I always take January off from it to refresh myself, you know? I need a break. I’m just gonna focus on school for a few weeks, I think.” Dallon rambled, but just as well. Even if Brendon was only half listening he didn’t need to be the one doing all the talking. He was growing to hate the sound of his own voice and he had nothing to say anymore.

“That’s smart. One of us has to get into a good school and get a career that’ll support both of us when I’m still working at my family’s diner.”

He reached out to shove Brendon. “Stop it, Urie. You’re gonna go to college and have a career and you’re gonna have to support me. I’m the starving artist, remember?”

Brendon turned to look at him, wondered how Dallon’s smile didn’t even have the power to make him smile back today. “I don’t think I have it in me to be a sugar daddy.”

“Ew.” Dallon laughed, and Brendon closed his eyes, breathed out like he were trying to smile. It felt like so much more than just muscles. It felt like running a marathon uphill with rocks tumbling down and getting in his eyes. He was tired. “As sexy as that would be, I don’t think that’s in the foreseeable future.”

Future? That was a good joke. “Yeah. Right.”

Sensing that he didn’t really wanna talk, Dallon sighed to himself, setting his hand on Brendon’s thigh. And it was more than just a simple movement, it was an apology, a promise. Brendon was getting a lot of those lately. He rested his head back against the seat and placed his hand on Dallon’s wrist, trying to feel the blood rushing in his veins through a layer of clothing and thick skin. Trying to remember that some people were stronger than others.

Brendon’s room was cold and he had to call down to his mom to turn up the heat as he went to pull a sweatshirt on. Dallon settled down on his bed across from him, seemingly comfortable though he was a lot less adverse to the cold than the smaller boy, who found himself trembling when he climbed into bed with his English homework in his lap. Maybe it was something else, not just the cold, maybe it was everything he didn’t want to think about. He’d keep on not thinking about it.

“What’s this mean?” He pointed to a word in the text and flashed the page to Dallon, who squinted under his glasses and shrugged.

“I don't know. I’ll look it up.” He grabbed his phone from wherever it was wedged in between his thigh and the mattress. Brendon returned to the book with a pensive hum, he didn’t even get why this was part of the curriculum, and Dallon chewed on his lip subconsciously. "Hey, grades are up. For midterms." He said suddenly, and Brendon looked up. He'd completely forgotten about grades. He'd been so focused on forgetting about doing midterms that he'd shut out the idea that eventually he'd have to look at the results.

He grabbed his phone off of his side table and shoved his book aside, Oedipus could wait a little while, and fumbled to unlock it. Dallon said nothing more, his grades were always perfect and he had nothing to worry about, anyway. Dallon was perfect, and sometimes it was hard to be with somebody who had so much over Brendon, but Dallon didn’t see it that way. He didn’t like to compare himself to him.

Brendon stared down at the numbers on his screen and the letters beside them, screaming that he was a failure. "Oh, god. Oh fuck." He said, hands shaking, and Dallon looked up to see Brendon looking at the screen like it was about to pounce. But it didn’t, and it didn’t change either, and he was shaking as he read it over and over and over. But the D’s didn’t change, and neither did the F.

“What?” Dallon asked cautiously, tiptoeing though he had to know. Brendon shook his head. “Brendon, what?” He persisted.

Wordlessly and with no semblance of dignity left, Brendon thrusted his phone at his boyfriend, looking away because he didn’t even want to think about it. Dallon accepted it, fingers fumbling, and only took one glance at it before he locked the screen and dropped Brendon’s phone, out of sight, out of mind. But it was burning in the back of his brain, taunting him pitifully when he squeezed his eyes shut. He failed. He failed, and he couldn’t do anything.

Arms pulled him against a solid body before he could open his eyes again, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t need to see the pity in Dallon’s eyes or the world that was giving him one thing after the other. He took in a shuddering breath, and Dallon stroked his hair with his fingers, holding Brendon against his chest. “I’m so stupid.” Brendon cried, pulling his knees to his chest and resting them atop Dallon’s thigh, legs crossed under him. “Fuck.”

“You’re not stupid, Brendon, stop. Hey.” Dallon shushed him, and Brendon covered his mouth with a shaking hand, whimpering helplessly. “Listen to me. This was a stupid fuckup, okay? This isn’t your fault. This is because of everything that’s happened to you. Look at me. Brendon.” He put a hand on his cheek, turned his face toward him and slid his thumb over a trail of tears. “You are not stupid. You’re smart, and you’re capable, and you need to stop blaming yourself.”

Brendon shook his head, repeating a string of useless words that meant nothing anymore as his boyfriend hugged him. It was hard, like he was trying to cut off Brendon’s circulation, and he may as well have. He didn’t need it, anyway. And besides, he was just left bleeding all over the place, cut open and torn. How was he going to tell his parents? How was he going to admit that he couldn’t do anything right?

Dallon held him, brushing his hair back and shushing him quietly because neither wanted to speak. Brendon just cried, and Dallon let him, and he needed to tell his parents, and listen to the lecture, the sympathetic one but this wasn’t because of what happened. This was because of Brendon. Who he was. He’d never been good in school. He didn’t have an excuse.

“I feel like such a mistake.” Brendon admitted once he’d calmed down, staring at the wall and feeling his own chest rise and fall, constricted by his knees.

And there was a photo of he and Dallon up on his bookshelf, in this dusty little frame, a gift for his birthday that Dallon had given him because he noted that Brendon could do a little redecorating. And Dallon believed in him, he always had and he somehow always would, Brendon would come to learn. But just because there was someone who believed in him didn’t mean that he believed in himself, because he never gave himself a reason.

“I feel like everyone keeps holding out hope and I’m letting them down and I’m a failure and I’m a mistake and I’m sorry you have to deal with me.”

“Stop.” Dallon shook his head, tightening an arm around Brendon’s shoulders and burying his face in his hair. “I hate that you think that. You’re not a failure. And you’re not a mistake. Shit happens, Brendon. It doesn’t mean you give up.”

Dallon was the king of not giving up if there were one but at this point it just felt so easy to. To forget about everything and just fade away or pretend you never existed in the first place. Brendon shrugged, because he didn’t agree, he didn’t see what was so wrong about giving up, sometimes you just had to. Sometimes it wasn’t worth all the fighting.

“Promise me,” Dallon whispered. And it wasn’t a request. It wasn’t a prayer. It was a demand. And Brendon sniffled, but he linked his pinky with Dallon’s anyway, because, well. Fighting. It just wasn’t worth it. “I need you to promise me, Brendon.”

“I promise.” Brendon said, and he tried so, so hard to mean it.

* * *

Sigmund Freud believed that dreams reflect unconscious desires and repressed memories that have been dug so deep they’re denied to exist. The idea that dreams are a basis of what people really want or subconscious thoughts was one that Brendon thought of often, having begun precisely when he started to have nightmares almost every night. Freud also declared that child development was derived from these psychosexual stages of development, about the unconscious mind, our undeliberate repression, the use of defense mechanisms. Then again, the dude also believed that kids were sexually attracted to their parents when they were toddlers.

In his book “The Interpretation of Dreams”, Freud wrote about how dreams occurred on two levels of mental processing: the construction of a wish expressed by a dream, and the process of censorship that distorted how the wish was expressed. He believed that dreams were a form of wish fulfillment, but how did that reflect on Brendon’s nightmares? The manifest content was always the same, taunting voices and rough hands grabbing at his body like he no longer owned it, but the latent content was far more significant under the surface. It would take a smarter man to figure that out.

Freud also wrote about the sources of dreams, how they were linked with an experience of the previous day, no matter how small. Four possible sources of dreams, all including some sort of representation of a significant occurrence. And it made sense, because what had happened to him was significant enough to flip his entire word upside down. Of course he was still dreaming about it. But that didn’t take away from how terrifying it was to be caught in some paralyzed state when the face of a boy he wished he’d never met stared dauntingly back at him.

In his sleep he felt a warm arm tighten around his waist, an unconscious promise to protect him even when he couldn’t trust his own mind. It was pouring outside, some probable mixture between rain and sleet and snow and a cold, slushy mess in the streets, but the sound of it pounding against the window hardly helped him get to sleep. Usually the steady rhythm of the rain would help lull him back to sleep, but tonight it was making him stir.

It was always the same dream. A pair of piercing eyes that cut so deep they hit bone, all over Brendon’s body like the hands that would soon follow. Much like they typically were in dreams, his desperate motions were slow, like his body was tied down and he had no semblance of energy left, his limbs too heavy to fight back. Sharp fingernails dug into unconsenting, sweat slick skin, cutting him open and making him bleed. Each time he’d been stitched up, saved, resuscitated. But there he was, opening the stitches one by one and climbing into Brendon’s wounds.

He was shivering in Dallon’s embrace, his shirt twisted from his struggling and exposing parts of his lower back and stomach, leaving his skin cold. Just a few hours prior Dallon had climbed into bed with him, pressing a single kiss to the top of his spine before he’d taken a protective hold during the night. He’d fallen asleep fast, inexplicably tired, but Brendon’s racing mind wouldn’t ease.

Brendon awoke suddenly with a startle, letting his eyes snap open to reveal the faint light of the moon trying to peek through the clouds and reflecting on the dark wall of his bedroom. He stayed completely still for a second, six seconds, ten seconds, and then let out a sigh once he felt Dallon nuzzle his face into the hair on the back of his head. He needed to get it cut soon, it had been a while and he was starting to look like some sort of shaggy dog with the brown locks hanging in his eyes. He had meant to tell his mother to make an appointment.

He realized then that he was trembling, and cold sweat stuck to his frozen skin though he felt feverish and sick. He wondered fleetingly if Dallon could tell that there was something wrong, he always seemed to have a sixth sense about these things, but behind Brendon he was sound asleep.

Brendon stared at the oscillating reflection on his wall, the way the trees shook and blew in the wind, releasing relentless bounties of wet leaves and whatever else wanted to be free. The windows were rattling with the storm, and all of a sudden he needed room to breathe.

Careful not to wake his boyfriend, Brendon took his hand and removed it from around his body, sliding out from underneath him and climbing out of bed. He stood by the bed and watched Dallon tug on the covers unconsciously to replace the warmth that Brendon’s person had stolen, always so comfortable in Brendon’s home even when Brendon wasn’t. Listening to the wood floor creak, he wondered what Dallon’s unconscious mind was thinking. Perhaps a representation of what Brendon had been feeling for weeks, a jumble of impending danger and fear and the loss of breath. Maybe he wasn’t dreaming at all. But Dallon looked at peace, if not a little disgruntled when the second body in the bed had disappeared.

Brendon slipped out of the room and walked down the hall slowly, bare feet padding against the wood floors. The house rocked with the wind and the sound of rain pattered against all the windows, and just as Brendon reached the darkened bathroom, a strike of lightning lit up the hall through the window of the small room. He stepped inside and pushed the door shut behind him, leaving him alone in the dark.

All of this preceded what he knew to be true: he wasn't going to be okay. He wasn't going to find his old self. He didn’t even think he existed anymore. It had been weeks, months, and still he felt as though it had just happened. And in his mind it had; days passed like nothing and his mind spun like he couldn't get a grip on gravity, on time, on his own thoughts. Too much, too much.

But somehow still not enough.

It was all his fault. He let it happen. He gave up his dignity and his body to a boy he didn't know. It never would have happened had he been stronger.

He didn’t want to think about what things had once been like. Back over the summer, where he stripped himself bare mentally and then physically, shared himself with a boy he chose. How he bucked up into his mouth while his own fell open, how he dropped to his knees in front of him, so eager, how he exposed his bare skin to the world and to the ocean and to himself, when he was getting to know him. Once upon a time he felt comfortable in his own skin, so comfortable exposing himself. Had learned to love his body. Once upon a time, he felt completely safe being vulnerable. Now he just prayed that his body wasn't broken.

It had all been so beautiful. But if you crush a pearl, it becomes powder.

He was just a mistake. He couldn’t do his job right. He was a terrible boyfriend and friend and brother and son. He couldn’t even pass his fucking midterms. If things stayed like they were, he was going to have to fail the quarter, or the semester, or the year, and he— he would have to repeat it. Everything would be for nothing.

How was he going to tell his parents?

He couldn’t admit that he was still taking what had happened months ago so hard. He couldn’t admit that his mind blurred every time he tried to think about anything else. It was spinning at a million miles an hour. It was cruel. It was formidable.

He cupped a handful of cold water in his hands and splashed it on his face, trying to rid the sticky feeling of sweat. His body ached and his head pounded, and when he looked up at the next strike of lightning, he could see himself clear in the bathroom mirror. A look of fear made a home in his eyes. A look of regret. He’d made too many mistakes, and he didn’t know how to fix them.

He looked away. He didn’t want to see that boy right now.

Not feeling refreshed but instead confronted, he wiped his face off with a towel and stepped out of the bathroom, leaving him lonelier than he was when he entered. He didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him. He pushed his door open, and Dallon was still asleep like nothing had happened. Like he could somehow find peace after everything. Peace after death. That was a mystery. So were a lot of things, these days.

Brendon slid back into bed and Dallon stirred, shifting when Brendon tugged on the blanket. He hadn’t meant to wake him. He hadn’t meant to wake himself, either. "Where'd you go?" Dallon asked, though his eyes remained closed and Brendon had stilled completely.

Brendon settled back down, pulling the covers up with that same feeling of regret seeping deep into his bones. "Bathroom."

“Hm.” He hummed, half asleep, and reached out for Brendon again, so Brendon complied. Turned on his side, let Dallon protect him again. "It’s cold." Dallon muttered against his shoulder. And Brendon simply nodded, but he was shivering for another reason completely. He'd let Dallon believe whatever he wanted, though. Let him pretend.

I’m a failure.

Thunder cracked outside, and Brendon tugged the blanket up closer to his face. It was one of those instances where it felt like the rain was never gonna let up. Like there had been a monsoon for weeks, months, years, and it was supposed to represent the torrential downpour that was on the inside. Something metaphorical, or whatever. But like all things had to, the rain would come to an end. Brendon just had to wait it out. He just didn't know how long he'd have to sit in his cave and take cover.

He shifted under Dallon's arm, and Dallon placed a kiss gently on the back of his neck while Brendon made himself comfortable again. Or as comfortable as he could be, because something was brewing under his skin and his stomach was starting to feel like it had a vendetta against him. He didn't know when he would start to feel more like himself again, but he was scared that the parts of him still there were decaying and disintegrating before he could get a grip. There was nothing to get a grip on, it seemed. There was nothing left for him to do.

It had all just snuck up on him. His anxiety and his naivety. Talking behind his back, blood drying faster than it’d spill.

He didn’t know what to do anymore.

Dallon was pulling on his sweatshirt when Brendon's eyes cracked open, but instead of the early morning sun he was greeted with the sound of the rain. He squinted up at his boyfriend, trying to stay quiet when the other was sleeping in. He nodded his head toward Brendon in acknowledgment as he adjusted the waist of the sweatshirt.

"You're leaving?" Brendon asked quietly, pushing himself up to sit amongst the sea of blankets. How long had he been sleeping? His eyes burned with sleeplessness, and his entire body ached. So not long, though he'd been tossing and turning for hours.

"Yeah, I have volunteering today. I didn't wanna wake you." He tugged the sleeves over his hands and reached out to grab his glasses from the side table. "You okay? You were restless last night."

"Yeah. Just... cold. Storm kept me up." He shrugged and let his hands fall in his lap helplessly. He couldn't be honest now. He had too much to hide. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine. Didn’t inconvenience me much. You should try to rest, though. Seriously." He placed a hand on Brendon's shoulder and leaned down to press their lips together, in a rush and with good reason. Early mornings, rain, he had to get going. "I gotta go, baby."

"Okay. Drive safe." Brendon forced a smile, but Dallon didn't expect a real one. He didn't expect much, anyway. Brendon couldn't give anything more than a fake smile these days.

"I will." He smiled back, stepping toward the door. "Later, bumblebee."

"Bye." Brendon watched until he disappeared from the room, only stopping to say a quick hi and bye to Kara in the hallway before he started down the stairs. As soon as he was gone, Brendon fell back on his bed with a frustrated sigh. Recovery was a marathon, not a sprint. It felt like climbing a mountain. With an avalanche up ahead and rocks tumbling down and no gear at all.

God, he hated January.

* * *

Brendon kept his night of panic a secret from Dallon. He didn’t need the burden, he had enough on his plate. Between the stress of school and the worry of what was going on with his mind and his art, he didn’t need to think about his failure of a boyfriend who could barely get by, even in the easiest classes. Brendon couldn’t drag Dallon down with him. He didn’t need to know. No one had to know.

And no one did know. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, not at first, but he kind of just... needed to be away from everybody for a minute. When he pictured it all, the people in his life, how well they were doing compared to all of his tremendous failures. Dallon had done so perfectly, he always did everything so fucking perfectly, and sometimes they were just polar opposites.

Brendon didn’t mean to distance himself, really. It just... happened.

And the thing was that Dallon let him. Normally he’d call and text a few times, try to pull Brendon out of it. But as the weekend melted into Monday, Brendon found himself realizing that he hadn’t actually heard from Dallon all weekend. So he was just the slightest bit confused as he folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the brick wall, waiting for his boyfriend to pick him up. Just a few months ago not hearing from him for the weekend made him panic, and now...

He didn’t really know what they were becoming.

Brendon was up and at the passenger side before Dallon’s car could come to a complete stop. Dallon said hello when Brendon climbed in, dropping his bag on the floor and reaching behind him to find his seatbelt. He just wanted to get today over with. It felt like a constant countdown, get through today, get through tomorrow, get through the rest of them. Brendon was so sick of living through a countdown.

“How was your weekend?” Dallon asked, pulling out into the street.

“It was fine. How was yours?”

“It was fine.”

Brendon sat back, unused to the frustrating small talk when neither of them knew what to say. Things felt so different now that Brendon knew how trivial everything was. One good weekend in retrospect could turn so many things around. So when was he going to have one? “Hey, Dallon?” He peeped, turning in his seat, and Dallon nodded. “You’re... um.” He squirmed, trying not to think worst case scenario. “You’re okay, right?”

Dallon looked at him, eyebrows furrowed, and nodded again. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh. I just.” He turned to face forward, watching as the light a few yards away turned green before they could reach it. “I didn’t really hear from you all weekend. Last time you didn’t text me all weekend...” He trailed off, didn’t really want to say it. Didn’t need to be reminded of it.

“Oh, no, Bren, I’m fine.” He assured him, shaking his head when Brendon gave him a skeptical look. He couldn’t blame him for worrying. “No, I was just trying to give you some space. I know you need it.”

“Yeah, I do.” Brendon agreed, nodding, and Dallon was nodding too, and they didn’t even really know who started it anymore. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no, of course. I know how you feel, kind of, I just. I wanted to be left alone. I figured...”

“Yeah, you figured right. You get it. Thanks.” He gratified again, not really knowing what to say or how to say it. He didn’t know how to explain himself when he wasn’t even sure what he was thinking. His mind was kind of unforgiving these days. “So, hey, um.” He added, tugging awkwardly at his seatbelt strap because it felt too constricting suddenly. “I’m sorry that I’ve been, like, really weird lately. I don’t really know what’s going on, but. Um. I’m sorry.” He glanced at Dallon, catching him sigh like it was some bigger thing than just Brendon and an apology. A bigger picture.

“Look, Bren, with depression, you distance yourself. And most people don’t realize it, because you do it gradually. It’s like... first you give excuses not to hang out. Then you stop answering texts and calls, say you were busy, go out of your way. And people just think you’re changing when really, it’s your depression, and you’re isolating yourself. I know this because I did it, Brendon. And maybe not everyone realizes it, all the little gradual changes, but I do, y’know? For the past couple of months you’ve been distancing yourself. And I’m not gonna let you, I care too much about you to let that happen, but I’m gonna give you a break every once in a while. Because keeping up with the world is exhausting sometimes.”

Brendon looked down at his thighs and started to pick at a little piece of lint on the denim, guilty. The thing was, he was doing it consciously, knew that every text went ignored and conversation had been at a lull, but he didn't want it that way. He didn't wake up and plan on ignoring everybody. He just found it easy to do, was all. “I’m not doing it on purpose. Or, I mean, not exactly. It’s not my intention to isolate myself.”

“I know. You don’t have to be. I didn’t either." He reached out to pat Brendon's thigh, a sorry buddy, you're out of luck kind of pat. But an empathetic one all the same. "I just needed an outlet to abuse myself and I didn’t want to bring anyone else into that. You’re not doing that, thank God. You’re just... quiet. Reserved.”

Brendon nodded slowly; he'd been trying to keep himself quiet. Everybody probably just wanted him to quiet down, anyway. "I know. And I don't mean to shut you out, I swear. I just... I'm worried about you." Brendon snatched Dallon’s hand before he could dare pull it away. Dallon looked at him like he was crazy, in this equation he wasn’t the one to worry about, and Brendon added, "I know you don't think I'm a burden or anything, but it just seems like I'm so in the way sometimes. Like you would be better off without me."

"That's the anxiety talking, Brendon." Dallon reminded him. Ms. Kenny had said it once too, that his anxiety controlled his thoughts sometimes, and he let it. That sometimes he was so damn irrational. But how could he help it? It felt so easy to hand his system to something else, let it maneuver him all it wanted. He was getting so tired.

"I know. And I know what you said before, about sometimes needing space and sometimes needing to be around people. I feel the same way. Lately, it's just that maybe me being alone sometimes would be good for both of us. I'm stressing us both out." He tilted his head back against the headrest and looked at his boyfriend, who opened his mouth to speak in protest, but Brendon cut him off. "No, Dallon, you know I am."

Dallon sat back in his seat, pouting in defeat because Brendon got him and they both knew it. "I don't want you to worry about me."

"But that's what I do. I worry about you, and you worry about me, and we take care of each other. I wanna take care of you. I just feel like I can’t. I feel like I can’t do anything. I just wanna... disappear."

Dallon’s face contorted into worry, and had Brendon said something wrong again? "You don’t mean that, right? Because if you’re thinking of hurting yourself-“

Brendon shook his head and couldn't help but catch the look of relief on his face. "No, Dal, I’m not gonna hurt myself. Don’t worry. I’m just... tired.”

He didn't know how to say it so he didn't. He was going to ruin Dallon. He was going to tear him down, ruin what he'd spent years building up. He was going to cross boundaries and destroy this beautiful boy, set fire to their camaraderie. Because it was what Brendon did. He ruined things. He didn't mean to, and he didn't want to, but he was going to ruin Dallon.

And before he ruined Dallon, he had to take a step back. Just a step, to overlook the damage he'd done, kiss Dallon good luck, leave him in the dark for a little while. Maybe it would be for long, maybe not, but as Brendon watched Dallon nod from the passenger seat, he knew that some things were too good to be touched. Dallon was too good to be touched. And Brendon had doubts, because he was letting himself dwell again. He couldn't possibly be good enough for Dallon. He just... didn't want to let him go. So he'd keep him at arm's length, but he'd keep him. He just had to save him from himself.

“Listen, Bren. It doesn’t last forever. But sometimes things can change. Friendships and stuff. Just... I don’t want you to make things harder on yourself.”

And that was funny, because it felt like he already was. "I'm trying, Dal. I'm really trying." Not hard enough, it seemed.

"I know you are." Dallon assured despite Brendon’s doubt, thumbing the back of his hand carefully. I’m trying. That was all Dallon had trained himself to say for a long, long time. “So what do you wanna do? You wanna take a break? Give each other some space to breathe?”

It was a perfect question because Brendon had no goddamn idea what he wanted. Dallon was his rock. He couldn’t get through any of this without him. Which was why he needed to take a step back. It was a new year, and Brendon’s resolution was to stop being so codependent on everyone else. He’d been trying to find himself for years. Not trying to find himself in others. “Yeah. I think I need to. The past few months have been a lot, and I know it’s been a lot on you and your mental health and that— that’s important to me too. So I’m gonna take a week or two.”

“Okay.” Dallon said it like it was no big deal, but Brendon could feel his anxiety. He wasn’t breaking up with him. He was nowhere near breaking up with him. He just needed to breathe without infecting Dallon with his self-hatred. “So what do I do?”

Brendon shrugged, leaning his head back against the seat like he was completely burnt out and letting himself run on automatic. But there was barely any fuel left in his tank, and it was only January. He felt empty for a while now. “Just give me a little bit of space, I guess. I don’t know. I don’t wanna drag you into whatever I have going on right now.”

“I can respect that.” Dallon pat his thigh and pulled into the school’s parking lot, where high school students were bustling around and finding their friends. Brendon hopped out of the car with Dallon, walked beside him until they reached Josh’s car. And just as they did every day, Dallon stopped to stand with Ryan and Josh, and Brendon gave him a kiss on the cheek before he disappeared to find Tyler, who sat by the stairs until Brendon approached him.

And then easily enough he was being pulled into the building by the arm, and he appreciated the support since he could barely stand himself. “How was your weekend? How’s Dallon?”

Read: did you have another panic attack this weekend? How is your relationship? And Brendon didn’t really want to answer those questions. “Same old, same old. How was yours?”

Tyler shrugged. “Same old, same old.” And he looked at Brendon insistently with his eyebrows raised. “And...”

Brendon rolled his eyes; he couldn’t be more obvious if he tried. “Dallon is fine. We’re, um. We’re kind of taking a little break right now, he’s giving me space to figure shit out. I’m just not doing well right now and the worst thing for me to do would be bringing him into it.”

“Wait, B. Wait.” Tyler stopped in his tracks and turned to face a confused Brendon, eyes wide like he had just told him that he killed a man though maybe he was on the verge. “You know saying that you’re taking a break is a kiss of death, right? It’s notorious for meaning you’re gonna break up.”

Brendon’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I’m not gonna break up with him.”

“Listen, tiny, this is how it goes.” He tugged Brendon down the hall once more, making him almost trip over his own feet. “First you say you’re gonna take a little break. Then you take some time off from each other, realize you don’t really need each other. You spend some more time away, and then more, and then as soon as you know it you’re deciding that you’re better off and you break up. Breaks aren’t real.”

“Calm down, Ty. I’m taking a week or two to just rest. I don’t want to be social. I don’t want to have to worry about being a burden.” He folded his arms over his chest. That wasn’t it, was it? This wasn’t the end. This was just a few weeks, a few days, who could tell? He’d been wondering if maybe he and Dallon spent too much time together, and his brothers had been right all those months ago. Being so attached at the hip probably couldn’t be healthy. This was good for their relationship, right?

“All I’m saying is that you should be careful, okay? You’ve been weird and I don’t want you to freak out and fuck up your relationship with Dallon.”

“I’m not gonna fuck up my relationship, Tyler, stop. I just need to breathe. I feel like I can’t breathe.” He laced his fingers in his hair and sighed. That didn’t make him a bad boyfriend. It didn’t make him a bad person, either. He was just trying to take care of himself. “I love Dallon, and that’s why I need to take a break from him. I can’t expect him to keep cleaning up my messes.”

“Come on, Brendon.” Tyler sighed, and maybe he was looking out for Brendon, maybe he had a reason to be worried, but Brendon couldn’t think about anybody else right now. He needed to protect himself. This was going way too far.

“Tyler, on New Year’s Eve I slept in my parent’s bed instead of my own with him because I still get scared sometimes.” He admitted, and Tyler stopped to stare at him. “And that was humiliating and pathetic and the worst part to me is that Dallon knows. He knows how bad I am and I’m trying to be better but it’s like I’m glued to the ground and I can’t move. I’m stuck. And I don’t know what to do, I keep trying but nothing works. So I need to give myself some time, and I need to give Dallon some time, and I need to find out what’s wrong with me.”

“I didn’t know.” He said quietly, apology in his voice, but it wasn’t like Brendon was going around telling the whole world that he started his year in his parents’ bed like a child.

“I didn’t want anybody to know. That’s not the point.” He shook his head. “The point is, I’m fucking everything up. I’m failing all my classes and I might need to repeat this year, I’m probably not gonna get into college, and I’m miserable all the time. And maybe I just want to know that I can do it myself. I can’t keep relying on him to make me better. That’s not how relationships should be.”

“But I don’t think it’s inconveniencing him. It’s not inconveniencing me. You’re stuck in this mindset where you think everyone’s here to babysit you but it’s not that simple, Brendon. It’s a two way street. Don’t pull away from the people who are here to help you.”

“I don’t want anyone to help me. I wanna do this alone.” He insisted, overwhelmed. “I just wanna be alone for a little while.” He added, backing away and not even bothering to force a smile, and Tyler nodded but didn’t hide his disappointment when Brendon took off down the hall. Tears welled up in his eyes but he refused to cry, because it wasn’t worth it. He was gonna fix this. He just wasn’t exactly sure how.

* * *

They established some break rules when Dallon drove Brendon home that day. They also established that this wasn’t just for Brendon but for Dallon too, because they had come too close to breaking up a few months ago and they needed to take some time away from each other to figure some things out. They hadn’t gotten the chance to ease back into them. And besides, Tyler was right: he wasn’t inconveniencing others, so much as he was inconveniencing himself by worrying so much about it.

Dallon already felt like a mess, letting things get to him and feeling like he and Brendon’s illnesses were clashing sometimes, and that was why Brendon needed to take a minute to figure out how they worked together in that way. He hadn’t had much time to get used to this, and they had never had to learn how their illnesses worked together. Because when Brendon wanted time alone Dallon didn’t, and when Dallon was in a bad place Brendon couldn’t figure out how to help without making things about him. Neither of them held it against each other, it was just that things were so complicated right now and that was what the break was for. To uncomplicate them.

Brendon decided that he’d take a break from the rides to and from school, hanging out, talking on the phone for hours at night. He needed to take some time to figure himself and his mental illness out without having to worry about neglecting Dallon, and establishing a break was the best thing for them. Even Dallon admitted that right now, his mental health was being compromised and before they could hurt each other, he wanted to figure out how they fit. So Brendon went home alone the next day, and it felt oddly empty. Satisfying, though, as he knew he was doing this to gain a little independence back after having become so reliant on everybody else in his life.

It was just that Brendon didn’t know what to do when he had to restrain himself from calling Dallon every single time he had a stupid little invasive thought.

He had no future. God, he had no future. He couldn’t help but think it as he laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, scratching at his skin like he needed to break out of it. Fuck, he had no future. His grades dropped significantly after his midterms, his teachers all had the same thing to say, and he was absolutely hopeless. Why couldn’t he do extra credit or test corrections for midterms? Why did he have to make peace with his grades and try better next quarter?

He had no future. He couldn’t get into college with bad grades, he couldn’t get a good job without college, he couldn’t live without a job because then he’d have no money or food or a place to live and then he would just have to come to terms with it then. He had no future, and he didn’t know whether to blame Shane or his depression or himself. He really didn’t want to blame himself.

He dwelled around work with half-hearted effort, sorting sugar by brand and color but being otherwise useless. He dropped a tray with empty glasses on it when he hadn’t been paying attention when Matt moved behind him, and at some point his father got so frustrated that he told Brendon to take the rest of the day off and go upstairs. He had apologized, swept up the broken glass and avoided the gazes he got from the customers, but his dad was right. He wasn’t needed, anyway.

He paced around his room, cleaned up his trash and made his bed and dusted the things on his windowsill because he just had nothing better to do. He could have called Dallon if he wanted to, could have just asked to hang out and gone to his apartment and lay in his bed instead, but at least he was getting something done without anyone’s help. At least he could function for a second without Dallon, if he really wanted to.

He kind of lingered around boredly, putting off his homework and instead trying to find something better to do with his time. He sat at his desk and tried to write for a little while, but he just ended up scribbling down some angry words before he realized that it was no use, he had nothing interesting to say. “Fuck,” Brendon groaned, smacking his palm against his forehead a dozen times in frustration. He just didn’t know what to do.

“I think you’re too high strung,” Matt told him Tuesday night as Brendon wiped down the tables and Matt wiped off the counter after closing. He'd promised to at least help clean up after leaving them short staffed. Getting a grip was becoming harder and harder, these days.

“I’m not exactly type A.” Brendon muttered, swiping crumbs into a plastic box with his rag.

“No, I mean... you’re so stressed out right now and that in itself is making you even more stressed. You gotta calm down a little. You’re not doing yourself any favors. Stop thinking about school and your relationships and everything that’s happened. Go listen to music or take a bath or go for a walk or jerk off, Brendon, I don’t know, but you need to do something because you’re driving yourself crazy.”

“I know, I just...” He stopped and shrugged. “I don’t think anything is gonna make me feel better. Everything just makes me think, and thinking is a terrible idea.”

“So shut off your brain.” Matt suggested, scrubbing at the counter with his rag when Brendon glanced up to watch. He half smiled, shrugging like Brendon could guess what he meant, and yeah, Brendon could.

He shrugged too, turned away to move to the next table. “Do you think it’s bad that I haven’t gotten my sex drive back yet?” He asked, moving a saltshaker back to its respective place when he felt Matt look toward him again. Quiet under the soft glare of the moon and the streetlights, but watching him nonetheless, and Brendon wasn’t shocked. Everybody watched him these days.

“No,” Matt said, voice hushed and full of truth. “I don’t think that.”

Brendon heard him, and he processed his words, and maybe it made sense to his brother but it didn’t make sense to him. He threw his rag down on the table like he just couldn’t take it anymore. “It’s just, this happened a couple of months ago. And I know that it was a big deal, but I’m so sick of letting it ruin my life. I wanna trust again, and I wanna feel comfortable at school. I wanna have sex and feel okay about it, and I just... I wanna recover.”

“And you will, Bren, but it doesn’t happen overnight.” And that was what everyone was telling him. His family and Dallon and Ms. Kenny, but why couldn’t it? Why couldn’t it happen overnight? Just who was stopping it? “You’ve had sex a couple times, right?”

Brendon shook his head, grabbing his rag again after all. The faster he was done with this, the faster he could get upstairs and go to bed, lay to rest another useless day. “Just once. A few things other than that since then, but no. Once.”

“But... you and Dal are like, always together.” Matt argued. Brendon shrugged. “Not even when you went away together? Or like, all the weekends that you slept over his place alone?” Wordlessly, Brendon shook his head again. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was just... well, it was more complicated than that. “Jesus, Bren. You’ve been together what, eleven months?”

“Uh-huh.” Giving up, he took a seat in the booth and focused his gaze on a shine in the fading wetness of the table he had just wiped down. “I don’t know, it was like... it felt like it was this big, special thing. Because we had waited a few months, until we were in love and both ready, and after we did it it felt so special that we didn’t want to taint it. I know that’s cliché, but...”

“You’ve always been that way.” Matt said, crossing the counter and going to join Brendon across from him in the booth with two glasses of soda in his hand. Brendon hadn’t even realized he was getting them. “Obsessed with fairytales, true love, making everything the perfect moment.”

“How’d that work out for me?” He laughed dryly, accepting the drink and grabbing a straw out of his apron before he took it off and dropped it on the seat beside him. “Nothing is like a fairytale. Not how I wished it would be. I mean, I have to take time away from my boyfriend so I don’t fucking ruin him.”

“But not everything can be perfect, Brendon. There are aspects of your relationship that really are, and that’s a good thing. Hold onto that. Not everything is that bad.” And Brendon knew. Not everything could be perfect. He’d known that all his life. But Matt was right, there were a few fairytales inside of this mess, before September when the cold came and so did a whole new set of demons.

“I just miss it.” He whispered, swirling his straw around in the liquid, poking at ice cubes and trying to remember what it was like to be so viscerally happy.

Matt watched his gaze flicker downward, lost in his own thoughts. Half of his face illuminated by the streetlights, artificial but familiar. “You know, you never talked to me about it.” Matt said, and Brendon glanced up at him. “You, Dallon. Having sex. You said it was a big deal and I always thought you’d wanna talk to me about it. So c’mon, little brother.” He punched Brendon’s wrist playfully. “Talk to me.”

“Um.” Brendon shrugged one shoulder, took a sip of the soda slowly. “I don’t know what to say. It wasn’t... surprising, not at first. For a few weeks it was all I could think about, and I didn’t know if I was ready. Or maybe I was too ready. And we both knew that day that we were gonna, and I don't know, we talked about it and we wanted it. We trust each other. And I don’t know what I was expecting, but it was awkward.” He laughed, sort of to himself. “It was really awkward. He couldn’t get my pants off and we were laughing and it was weird, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. And it hurt, like, really bad, at first. I’d read that, that it was gonna be painful like that. I didn’t know who else to ask cause you guys aren’t gay so you wouldn’t have known. And Tyler told me enough, I guess, but I felt like I should go through it myself. And it was... nice.”

Matt smiled, like the word were too simple for someone like Brendon. “Nice.”

“Yeah.” Brendon laughed again, probably blushing. “It was really nice. I was happy and comfortable and I felt safe and that was really important to me. And it was special because it was us, and now I feel like I’m never going to be able to get back to that.”

“Have you tried anything since what happened?”

Brendon nodded, but he didn’t want to relive that day. “A few weeks ago, in December, but...” He shook his head, bristled away. “Since then I’ve been thinking about it. And I’m trying to be ready. I really want to be ready. But right now everything is up in the air, and I don’t even know if me and Dallon are gonna be okay.”

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

He shrugged, digging his straw around in a sea of ice cubes. “I feel like lately I’ve just been so fucking disappointing. To Dallon and my friends and everyone else, and I... I feel like he deserves better, you know? He’s a lot better than me. He’s a good, good person. And I...”

“You’re not a bad person, Bren, you’re just going through something.” He interrupted. “It doesn’t make you bad.”

“But it makes me weak, doesn’t it?” He refuted, and at that Matt sat back. “Because I can’t handle this. I’m trying, and I want to be better, but something is stopping me. It’s like I can’t let myself move on. Ms. Kenny told me that I have to let myself move on so I can start to heal or whatever. And the thing is, I can’t stop dwelling on everything. And at first it was just us fighting, and I didn’t know what I wanted, if maybe I should have taken time for myself, and then the Halloween thing happened, and I keep finding myself wondering what this is. If he stayed with me after we almost broke up because he didn’t wanna be that guy. And I know he loves me, but... since then I’ve been fucking up. I’ve been disappointing. And I feel like no matter what I do, I’m gonna keep being disappointing.”

Matt was quiet for a second, watching Brendon look away because suddenly he felt like he was staring the truth in the face. He’d been thinking so much but there was a difference between thinking and saying it out loud. Saying it out loud made it too real. He didn’t want this to be real. “What do you mean?”

“I’m scared that I have no future.” Brendon admitted, playing with his straw in his drink and avoiding eye contact. “Because I fail at everything I do, and I can’t get anything right, and it’s like this ruined me. Every bit of potential I had is completely fucking destroyed, Matt, and I’m scared.”

“Brendon, that’s not true. You can’t keep putting yourself down because this one shitty thing happened to you.” Matt reached out to bump his hand against Brendon’s. “You’re blaming yourself and making it so much harder on you. You’re okay, Bren, you’re alive and you’re safe and that’s enough, right?” Hesitantly, Brendon nodded. Was it? “Right. Then calm down for a sec, relax. Go get laid because seriously, eleven months? One time? That’s pathetic.”

Brendon found it in him to laugh, because it was kind of funny. He had a few months before things got bad. It just felt like they were infinite, like he had all the time in the world just laid out for them. They felt magic, sometimes. He thought they had time. Not that they were living on all of it borrowed. “We’ve done other stuff. Just not... that. It feels more special, I think. Why do it so much when you think you’ll be together forever?”

It sounded naive, when he said it. Together forever. Like he was just some little kid making wishes. Of course he wanted them to be together forever. That was what happened in fairytales. What happened when the princess got drugged and assaulted? “You really think that, Bren?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, because things didn’t seem as neat as they had a few months ago. Back during the summer, where nothing felt wrong or hard or scary. Back when he knew what Dallon was thinking, because he was thinking it too. He missed being on the same page as him. He took a sip of his drink. “Yeah. I mean, I love him. I think the only thing I’ve ever really known for sure is that I love him. It’s like you told me: I realized that I can’t live without him. I can’t, and I don’t want to. It’s easy to think that things will always be so perfect.”

“I guess you’re right. And sometimes things really do work out like that.”

“And I hope they do.” Brendon said honestly, and he did. He really, really did. “I’ve almost lost him so many times. Now I’m worried this is final.”

“I don’t think anything is final. Except death.” He conceded, and it wasn’t sound logic, because there were so many things that were final. So many things that couldn’t be reversed. But maybe all along Brendon was thinking too much about it, putting gravity on things that didn’t deserve it, and maybe he should start seeing things the same way. Maybe if it wasn’t death it wasn’t the end of the world. Because in reality it wasn’t, and second chances don’t always get handed to you.

“You don’t think I totally ruined everything?” Brendon asked hopefully, like other people’s validation would change the way he thought about himself.

Matt shook his head, and Brendon took another sip of his drink, tasting sweet liquid on his tongue and sniffling though the sounds of the closed diner caught it. “I think this is temporary, Bren. Like everything is. Most things.” He corrected himself. “You know what I think? I think you’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna figure this out, and you’re gonna stop blaming yourself, and you’re not gonna die only having gotten laid once.”

Brendon half smiled, shoving his hand as if to berate him, but it meant more than he knew. “Thanks.”

“Sure, little brother.” Matt nodded solemnly, and it seemed sometimes that they only really made sense to each other with the nightlife but just as well, because daylight was harsh to Brendon. And he would shake his hand but that felt too formal, and he would hug him but that felt too real. So Brendon nodded too, and tried to smile, and took it all to heart, because sometimes that was the only thing he could do.


	44. Chapter 43: Stolen Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love this chapter :)

Brendon was back at work the next day, stacking glasses behind the counter and playing idly with the sugar packets because his family really didn’t want him doing anything else right now. He was too anxious; his nervous energy was feasting on his bones and he was weak and irritable. But he needed something to do, and, well, this was better than nothing.

The door chimed, and he glanced up to see a pair of brown eyes warm on his own. He forced a smile, and Ryan went to stand in front of the counter where Brendon was pushing all the pink sugar packets into one pile. “Hey. What’s going on?”

“Hey, I just wanted to say hi. Get some coffee.” Ryan tried to smile too, and Brendon grabbed a mug from under the counter. “So, um.” Brendon glanced back up, and Ryan grimaced to himself awkwardly. “Look, Bren, for my own peace of mind, you haven’t been distant with Dallon because of... what he told you, right? Because he said to me that he mentioned us, and I promise that Dal and I-“

“No.” Brendon interrupted, shaking his head quickly. No, that wasn’t it at all. “No, God, no. I promise it has nothing to do with that. I know it’s weird timing and I admit that it’s kind of off-putting knowing about his old feelings when he spends so much time with you, but no, I know you’re just friends. It’s just dumb high school bullshit. That’s like, the last thing on my mind right now.”

Ryan pursed his lips, looked up and down between his eyes and his hands twitching with anxiety, where they had been sorting sugar. “Can you take your break now so we can talk?”

* * *

“It’s just that I feel so dependent on him, you know?” Brendon rambled, rolling up an empty packet of sugar aimlessly as he sat across from Ryan in one of the vacant booths. “I feel like I’ve been spending the past year sucking up all his energy. He’s always here for me, and I’m not saying that’s a problem, but... doesn’t that make me a shitty boyfriend? That I’m leaning on him and I don’t even know how it’s affecting him?”

Ryan shrugged, tapping his nails against the mug idly while Brendon’s gaze flickered. “I mean, not really, to tell you the truth. You’re going through something big, Brendon. It’s not like it’s some trivial high school drama. It’s not something many people can handle on their own. And from what I’ve heard, Dal isn’t bothered by you needing him. I think it makes him think he’s got a purpose. Not that he’s using you for that, of course. It’s just that he’s worried about you and he knows that he can be the one to make you feel a little less shitty.”

Brendon leaned forward, above the mug so that the steam rose and warmed his face. It was a bleak January, and he was starting to think that maybe he should just stay in his room for the rest of the winter. “Has he said anything?”

“I mean...” He hesitated a second, scratching aimlessly at the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess. He’s just scared, I think, Brendon. He’s worried about you. I mean, you, and the relationship. He cares about you, and... look, you didn’t hear it from me,” Ryan sat back, and Brendon stared up at him hopefully. “I know he’s worried that you’re gonna break up with him. Like you’re trying to sort things out and you’re gonna decide that you want to be alone and you’re gonna break up with him.”

“I...” Brendon slumped down in his seat, defeated and not knowing what to say. Months ago this had all seemed so simple, beautifully so, and now he felt like no matter what he did to protect himself he just shot an arrow through somebody else. “Can I tell you something?” Ryan nodded, watching his eyes for any sign of distrust. But he didn’t even have the energy anymore. “I honestly don’t think that I can live without him.”

Ryan let out a breath neither of them knew he was holding, and Brendon’s heart was pounding. “Okay.”

“I’m scary serious, Ryan. That’s the thing. I need a break from him because I’m scared that I’m gonna fuck it up and when I do, he’s not gonna wanna be with me. And that’s terrifying because I couldn’t have lived through these past few months without him. I know it’s pathetic, but he’s keeping me alive right now. So I’m not gonna break up with him. I’m just trying to keep my distance so I can focus on trying to breathe.”

“That’s not pathetic, I don’t think. I think it’s smart. You know what’s helping you. So what if it’s him? If I learned anything in our friendship it’s that he’s a really good person to lean on.” Ryan took a sip of his drink and smiled when Brendon couldn’t. “Don’t give up on each other, Brendon. With you he’s happier than I’ve ever seen him.”

“I guess that means something, huh?” He asked, and Ryan nodded. It had to. There was a lot of honesty in those few words. “Ryan, can I ask you something? Something you might not wanna answer?” Softly, he nodded again, not bothering to stall because he was always one for the truth, anyway. “Um. I’ve wanted to ask Dallon about this for a few months, actually, and I never know what to say. And sometimes I can’t stop thinking about it, especially when I’m in a bad place, and I... I wonder sometimes. Uh.” He looked down at his lap, picked at his nail polish awkwardly. “Do you know what it was like when Dallon was at the psych ward?”

“Oh.” Ryan blinked, and that was a heavy question. Brendon knew it was. That was why he never really asked about it, and why he tried not to think so much about it. Because that was a world Brendon hadn’t seen, a part of Dallon he wasn’t close to, but right now he just wondered how different he and Dallon really were at their worst. “Um. I don’t really know. I mean, he didn’t tell me much when he got out. I visited a few times, alone and with Josh, but I know he kept to himself and went to therapy. Made friends with his roommate, kind of tried to get himself together. It was good for him. But he hated talking about it, especially to me. Especially after everything.”

Brendon nodded, took note. Maybe he’d ask Dallon one day. Maybe he wouldn’t, and would just wonder, instead. “What was he like? After everything had happened?”

“He... wasn’t good.” Ryan traced the rim of the glass idly. “For a while, he kind of shut us out. Was really on and off. He acted out, he was really mean, he snapped and freaked out over everything and threatened to hurt himself to scare us. It wasn’t okay. And he’s not like that anymore, he learned so much about his mental illness and how to control it, but at first, Brendon, it was really bad. There were periods of time where we didn’t talk for weeks. He would completely ignore us and would just snap when we tried to talk to him. He talked to Josh more than me after that summer, after...”

Brendon tilted his head, curious. “After...?”

Ryan sighed, didn’t want to mention it though Brendon was staring, almost heartbroken over the things he didn’t know. “Listen. I knew how Dallon felt about me for a couple of weeks before he tried to kill himself. And when I went to visit him in the psych ward, he told me that he liked me. He’d never said it to me flat out before. And he said that he needed to tell me to understand his feelings.”

Brendon nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“And for a really, really long time, he resented me for not feeling the same way. And I understand it, he was lost and scared and felt alone and he thought I was the one that could be there for him. And I was, but we saw that in different way. I mean, this was all happening at such an essential time, when he was realizing his sexuality, and it was a lot for him. It was a lot for me, too. And I guess his feelings for me kind of just... hurt our friendship. And like I said, things were off and on. He would snap at me, make these snide comments about me not being gay, it was stupid and petty but his dad had just died and I mean, I felt like I was abandoning him when he needed me. And there were so many times where I barely considered him a friend, I ignored his calls and wouldn’t hang out with him and Josh because I didn’t want to deal with him. And eventually we talked about it, and we sorted things out for the most part, but I knew he was still... affected. Not by not being with me but by being rejected. He thought I saw him as unimportant. It wasn’t me but what I represented.”

Brendon nodded softly. “I understand.”

“And I mean, sophomore year things got better. He liked you and it was like you gave him something else to think about. Going into high school and starting to develop real, actual, not just friend-based feelings was a lot different than him just liking me because I was there. He got a little more mature, stopped being so mean all the time, but it was still pretty bad. He was off his meds and everything, he wasn’t getting the help he needed.”

“He told me that you’ve kissed and stuff.” Brendon mentioned, worrying his bottom lip in his teeth. Ryan let out a breath and looked down at the table for a second, nodding, and Brendon knew he shouldn’t have been asking but he wanted to know. He wouldn’t admit it to Dallon, but... “So why did you? If you didn’t like him like that.”

Ryan shrugged, cupping his hands around his mug. “Um, I don’t know. Because I love him and I wanted him to stop being mad at me. Which is stupid, and I led him on, and I know. I know. It’s not the smartest thing I’ve done. But I really didn’t mean to hurt him. I just thought that maybe things would blow over and he’d realize that he liked me for all the wrong reasons. And I was confused, too. About having feelings for him. And having feelings for boys. That’s why I felt as if my sexuality was me trying to justify what I had done with him because it was... it wasn’t friendly, Brendon. There were situations where it could have been so much more if I didn’t stop it.”

“Like... sex?” The thought made Brendon want to puke.

Ryan nodded carefully, afraid of what he could hurt if he wasn’t cautious. “We never did it. We were kids, Bren, we were fifteen, nobody should be doing that at fifteen, but... I don't know. If I wasn’t in denial I probably would have let it go further. It’s stupid now, but...” He sighed, playing with his hands. “Because of my father, there was a lot of homophobia living in my house for a long time. I was scared to admit that maybe I could possibly have some sort of feelings for people who... aren’t girls. And I thought, y’know, if I was gonna find out how I felt I may as well figure it out with Dallon. But that wasn’t how it worked. You can’t force yourself to like somebody back.”

“But why not like him? I mean, you’ve met him. He’s gorgeous and kind and smart and creative and he’s anything anybody could ever want.”

“That was my reasoning too. And you know, I was attracted to him. He’s an attractive person and he has a great personality and I really do love him. But I don’t see him as a person that I could be in a relationship with. I don’t see how I could. I’ve known him way too long, there was too much baggage, it felt like we were going to ruin a friendship that was already fragile to begin with. And I wanted to want to be with him because it would be perfect, and maybe I would have let myself fall for him if I wasn’t so scared to be who I was after years of being told it was wrong, but that was the past, Brendon. Dal is in a good place now. We started junior year and he got back on his meds and he smartened up, got closer to his mom, repaired everything, and things got better. And then he started talking to you and it was like... it was like those two years hadn’t happened, Brendon. Like he was so happy and the world was beautiful and he had something to smile about.”

“Oh.” Brendon looked down at his lap, smiled stupidly even though there was nothing to smile about. “It just... kind of gets to me sometimes. That there’s so much I don’t know. And these past couple of days I’ve been trying to sort things out. I think a big part of that is making myself okay with the fact that there are parts of my boyfriend that I may never see.”

“That’s probably a good thing, Brendon.” Ryan said, and Brendon nodded in agreement. He preferred a Dallon who was in control of his emotions over one who wasn’t. “Listen. I don’t mind you asking me questions. That was an important time in my life too. But I think you should talk to Dal about this, too, try to find some answers I don’t have. I only know what I was there for.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He sighed, pushing a hand through his hair and staring at the table before he looked up to see Ryan watching him. “I used to think Dallon was perfect, you know? That he was just... uncomplicated.”

“I mean this in the most best friend way possible, Brendon, but Dallon’s the least perfect person I know.” He said, smiling, and Brendon smiled too though he knew it was the truth. “Listen, he’s a very hard person to get along with. He’s stubborn and difficult and he can be a bitch but he’s the kindest person, too, when you’re in a good place with him. That’s the thing. He hides all the bad stuff so well that it’s like a disguise. He masquerades as someone who has his shit together until you find out who he really is. By then, you can’t get out of it.”

Brendon ran his fingers aimlessly over the table, wondering where that would get them. “Oh.” He decided quickly that he didn’t know how to think about the long run.

“And that’s not a bad thing. I think everybody has a past. I have a past, and I’m not a complicated person, I don’t think. I might be. But I think he holds onto a lot. And the thing is, Brendon, he lets things affect him in ways that aren’t healthy because that’s all he’s ever learned. I know you’re scared about not knowing things about him but there are things you learn only after years of knowing someone. You’ll get to know everything eventually. If Dallon puts his trust in you, then you’ll get to know everything. You might regret asking one day, though. You can’t unknow people.”

That was the thing. Brendon knew that, knew that once he found out things so tedious that he’d never forget them, it would be harder to let go. Maybe it was his fairytale mindset or his notion that love was forever, but he knew deep in his gut that he and Dallon weren’t going to part ways. They were going to be something great because they already were. He didn’t want to ever unknow Dallon. Unlearn who he was, how he held his pen and the way he breathed when he slept and the pattern in which he brushed his teeth. Things so meaningless, but things Brendon cherished anyway because Dallon deserved to be.

“I know. But I don’t know if I’ll regret it.”

Ryan nodded solemnly. “I don’t, even after everything.” He agreed, and Dallon must be worth it then. “Just keep this honest faith in him. He needs somebody who believes in him like you do.”

“I’m gonna try.” Brendon promised, because that was all he really knew how to do. Try. He sat back in his seat with a sigh, brushing hair out of his eyes, and wondered if he was ever going to stop wondering. “You know, I used to think it was romantic. Him telling me his insecurities. Like it was some beautifully tragic love story. But it’s not.” He looked away like it were a completely ridiculous admittance, and scratched awkwardly at the fabric of his jeans. “It’s not romantic. It’s just... sad. Cause I wanna help and I can’t. And he wants to help me and he can’t. And sometimes I’m scared that neither of us are secure enough to be in a relationship.”

“I think so too, sometimes. That he’s not ready.” Ryan admitted, and Brendon wasn’t entirely shocked but he was surprised to hear him say it. “But I know how he feels about you, you know? And I think there’s a balance. He needs to take care of himself too.”

“He just doesn’t really know how.” Brendon added, and his shoulders deflated as he tried to think of some alternative. Some way to make everything okay. Less complicated. That felt so fucking impossible. “Do you regret it?” He asked then, realizing he never did. “Not saying yes to Dallon?”

“Sometimes.” Ryan admitted, taking a sip of his drink and acknowledging the quirk of Brendon’s eyebrow. “Yeah, Bren. Sometimes. I always thought, y’know, that it would be perfect if Dallon and I...” He clucked his tongue in thought, reminiscing on the way things had been before Brendon, before Dallon had grown into his bravado. “He loved me. Like, I could see it. Feel it. He loved me, and just all the time I thought, you idiot, you should love him back. You’re stupid for not loving him back. I mean, I did, just not in the same way. I think there are so many ways to love someone and Dallon and I were like, opposite ends.”

Brendon thumbed his bottom lip absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“Yeah. And you’re really lucky, Brendon. I know it doesn’t always seem like it, but you are. Dallon loves really hard. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person that would but he does. And you’re just... a person that needs that unconditional love. So does he. I couldn’t give Dallon what he needed in a partner. I wasn’t sure about him. You are. That’s really important.”

“I just wish everything wasn’t so complicated.” Brendon sighed, prayed that saying it out loud would make God hear it and throw him a bone. Make them better. “Fuck. This could be different in a million different ways and we could be so perfect. I want to think that we are, but I’m just psyching myself out. I’m just pretending. Everything is a mess right now.”

“It could be different in a million different ways but then it wouldn’t be you guys. You’re really unique in that regard.” Ryan figured, he always said things that made Brendon think, and as Brendon opened his mouth to respond his mother called for him to get back to work.

“Alright, my break is over. I’m sorry.” Brendon got up and Ryan nodded in understanding, taking a sip of his drink. “But thank you. You helped. Sometimes I really need to talk things out.”

“Sure, Brendon. I’m here for you.” He was, Brendon knew. That was the unique thing about him. He never took sides. Not like they were against each other, just taking a break from each other. It felt like a fight at this point, though. “Let me know if you need someone to talk to.”

“I will, Ryan. Seriously. Thank you.” He nodded sincerely, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Can I get you anything while you’re here? Lunch? Dessert?”

“No, I should get going, actually.” He slid out of the seat and Brendon made a noise of understanding, everybody was busy these days anyway. He was glad Ryan visited in the first place. “It was good to see you, Bren. I’ll see you at school. And keep in mind everything I said.”

“I intend to.” Brendon promised, would cross his heart if he had any sense to. He had a lot to think about. He and Dallon had a lot to discuss.

Ryan let himself out and Brendon watched him go, carrying his empty glass to the kitchen. Ryan was right. He was always right. Dallon needed a fierce love. Brendon just prayed he could be the one to give it to him.

* * *

Brendon poked at his ice cream with his spoon strategically, trying to get at the pieces of cookie dough because everybody knew that was the best part. He was just separating the chocolate chips from the cookie dough when his mom wandered into the kitchen, going to find the kettle to fill with water for some tea. He raised his chin lazily but didn’t bother with a hello, too tired to even try.

“Hi, honey. What are you doing in here?” She asked, going through the motions of finding a clean mug and choosing out a teabag.

He shrugged, exhausted after working all morning and afternoon. “Got some ice cream. Didn’t feel like carrying it to my room so I decided to sit here and... y'know. Eat it.”

“Hm. Okay.” She looked at him skeptically, cleaning out her mug. “You had a long day. You should get to bed early tonight. I think that might be good for you. You could use a good night’s sleep.”

“Maybe.” He agreed, that didn’t sound so bad, bed, sleep, not having to deal with the world. The only problem was all the quiet time to think.

“Where’s Dallon been? I haven’t seen him.” She asked then, putting the kettle on the stove and twisting up the burner. He bristled away, only half wincing if he had the energy, and he knew she’d ask eventually, he just didn’t really want to talk about it. He didn’t quite know how to say it, actually.

“Oh. Ah. We’re taking a break right now.” He admitted, trying to sound casual though she turned again to look at him in shock.

“What? Why?” The surprise in her voice wasn’t upset, just worried, and he felt so guilty, for lying and hiding and being him.

“I failed all my midterms, mama.” He admitted, and her eyes widened but she said nothing because she could sense his distress. He just didn’t want to be a disappointment anymore. He planned on raising his grades and never telling his parents. It was a hopeless plan but he too was hopeless and desperate. “I don’t even know how. I studied so hard. Maybe I haven’t been able to retain information, I know that’s a side effect of my meds, or maybe I’m just dumb, or... I don’t know. But I failed. And I don’t know what to do.”

She sighed, hated when he insulted himself, and went to sit with him at the table. “Can you make them up?”

“No. I asked. They just want me to try harder. I don’t know how. I’m already trying so hard.” He put his head in his hands and felt like he was going to puke. He was trying so fucking hard. So why did it feel like this was going to kill him?

“I know you are, Bren.” She assured him, and he wasn’t expecting that, he’d been nervous for days to tell her. Failing all of his midterms was a big deal. “I don’t know what to do either, baby. Do you want me to get you a tutor?”

“No. I don’t want that. I don’t need a tutor. I just don’t know what to do either.” He admitted, his voice strained, leaning down to bury his face in his arms. “I don’t know what to do, mama. I feel so stupid and lost and hopeless. I want to feel better but I can’t. No matter what I do I can’t. I’m so tired of trying, too.”

“Honey.” She sighed, going to rub his shoulder gently. “I don’t know what to do. What do I do to help?”

“I don’t know.” He whined. If there was anything to do he would have done it. He just wanted to stop being him. She couldn’t give him that. No one could. “I really don’t know. I wish I did.”

“I know.” She sighed, observing the way he gripped his hair and pulled, shook his head, drove himself up the wall with worry. “What does this have to do with Dallon? Why are you taking a break?”

“I don’t know. Because I’m going through a lot right now and I feel like I shouldn’t be dragging him into it.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I tried really hard not to need him, mama. I just do.”

“I know, honey. But that’s not what’s hurting you. You don’t need to distance yourself from him.” She assured him, probably knew better, tried to help the best she could even though Brendon never let her.

“No. That’s what’s healthy. I can’t rely on him. Not right now. Not with the way he is.” Brendon wiped his cheeks and sat up promptly as if trying to convince himself he had it all together. The truth was, he didn’t. He never had. He just liked to feign maturity. “It’s okay. I can handle this on my own. I can figure it out.”

“It’s not a bad thing to accept help when you need to, Bren.” She told him, watching his face carefully when she said it. He bristled away, though, like she knew he would. Brendon was always one to wallow in his misery alone. He didn’t like to ask for help. He really hated being offered it. “I just want you to make sure you’re doing the right thing. Dallon is good for you, right? I don’t want you to lose him.”

“Maybe he’d be better off without me.” Brendon thought out loud, and caught immediately the way his mother looked his way. “I don’t mean— no.” He sighed, covering his face with his hands. “Mama, what if... what if everyone is right? What if high school relationships don’t last? What if it’s just stupid of us to keep trying when there’s so much trying to come between us?”

“It was your decision to take a break from him.” She reminded him carefully and he looked at her, raising his eyebrows. Not expecting her to confront that issue. “But no. I don’t think it’s stupid. I think it’s brave. Honest. You trust each other and want to do everything you can to be good for each other. It’s commendable.”

“I guess so. I just...” He looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers. Dallon’s hands looked so nice holding his. Their fingers tangled together. Of course he was doing everything he could. Dallon was rare; he didn’t want to lose that. “It seems like the odds are always against us.”

“I think that’s probably a really common thought for gay teenagers, huh?” She nudged his wrist and he really tried to smile, but it was sad. She was right. Things didn’t always work for people who were different. He thought that he could break that stereotype, that glass ceiling, prove it all wrong, but now he was sitting here eating ice cream alone because things didn’t really ever work out for him either. He didn’t know why he thought this one thing would.

“That’s so sad.” He huffed out, but didn’t deny it. It was true. The odds were always against them. She opened her mouth to apologize, and he added, “I mean, maybe it’s just everything. The way people treat us. Have always treated us. I’ve been getting bullied for years because I’m gay and maybe Dallon hasn’t, but people are still so passive aggressive with him. Like we’re both different so we don’t deserve what everybody else does.”

“What do you mean, Bren?”

“Like, you know how sometimes celebrities are dating? And then everybody gets in their business. Post about them and take pictures of them and analyze everything they do. And then eventually there’s so much pressure and so much outside influence that they have to break up. Maybe we’re like that. People are watching our every move. Waiting. Posting about me. How I’m a cheater and a slut and— I don’t know. Maybe this is like that. It’s so intimidating and scary to have something to uphold through all of that. It’s like when one of them has a scandal and the other doesn’t want to wreck their image so they won’t be seen with them. It’s like that. I don’t want Dallon to suffer just because I am. Because something bad happened to me. That doesn’t mean we both have to be in the spotlight.”

“You’ve been watching a lot of reality TV, huh?” Pouting, Brendon nodded, and she laughed as she cupped his cheek. “Brendon, I think that you’re seeing this all from a perspective where you’re assuming what he wants. Have you spoken to him about this? Why you think you need to pull away?”

He shook his head, going to poke at his ice cream again. “Not really. I just— I’m trying to protect him. There’s nothing wrong with trying to protect him.”

“No, keiki, there’s nothing wrong with that. I just think that maybe using celebrity logic is a bit of a stretch.”

“Mama.” He sighed.

“C’mon, Bren! You and Dallon have been through a lot together. And he doesn’t exactly strike me as the kind of person to care what others think. I’m sure he doesn’t care if you ruin his image. And besides, it’s high school. It’s not Hollywood. A few mean kids won’t ruin the rest of your life. You’ll see.” She pat his arm in that motherly way and got up, leaving him feeling just as helpless as he was before. “Until then, babe, just ignore them. People don’t have to have power over you unless you let them. Just... don’t let them.”

He turned to stare at her, as if it were that simple, and he supposed as you got older it was. Things get put into perspective. You have responsibilities, don’t have time to care what people think.

But Brendon wasn’t an adult. He didn’t have responsibilities. He had a boyfriend and a bad reputation and a dumb idea to take a break. He just had to find a way to work with that.

* * *

Dallon was playing briefly with the remote, pushing his bare foot against the empty bag of Cheetos on the coffee table to see how far off the edge it could go without falling when there was a knock at his front door. He glanced up, his mom was out with her friends and he wasn’t expecting anybody, not his own friends, not Brendon. He got up carefully when there was another knock, whoever it was hadn’t made a mistake, and hesitated a second before he unlocked the door and pulled it open. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he knew it wasn’t Brendon’s older brother.

“Matt.” He greeted, not bothering to hide his surprise. “Hi. Uh. Don’t take this the wrong way, but how do you know where I live?”

“I know the building, I’ve dropped Brendon off before. The nice lady downstairs with the weenie dog let me in. Weekes was on the mailbox. Let’s talk, yeah?” He nodded his head inside the apartment, nonchalantly inviting himself in, but Dallon wouldn’t reject him. He had nothing better to do, anyway. At least it was a Urie.

“Sure. That dog’s name is Hotdog. It’s very original. Come on in. Want anything?” He twisted up the thermostat as he stepped aside to let Brendon’s brother in. He shook his head but thanked him anyway, going to plop down on the couch by where Dallon had left a mess of crumbs, thinking he’d be alone longer. “So... is Brendon okay?”

“Yeah, Brendon’s fine. As fine as he can be. Kind of freaking out at work, but he always does. Dropped some glasses this morning so we kicked him out and told him to rest. He’s overworking himself to try to stop thinking but he gets jittery and no one wants that. I think he was baking cookies with my mom when I left.”

Dallon relaxed, taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch. If Brendon was hurt he didn’t know what he would do. Baking cookies, that was nice and safe. Innocent. Like he used to be. Like Dallon believed he still was. “Okay. So...”

“So.” He twisted his hands together in thought. “I wanted to tell you that I think this whole break this is fucking ridiculous.”

Dallon sighed and nodded, pulling one leg up against the cushion. It was. It was so fucking ridiculous. “I know, Matt. I don’t want to be doing this either, I miss him, but it’s not under my control right now. Right now, everything is Brendon’s call.”

“I know, and I respect that. I do think that Brendon needs some control right now. But I talked to him and this whole thing is so stupid to me. I mean, he’s scared of hurting you, and tainting you, and even more so he’s worried about himself. He’s worried that he’s ruined. That this ruined you two.”

Dallon twisted the ring off his finger and played with it in his hands. Brendon could never hurt him inadvertently like this. His wellbeing could never harm Dallon’s. But things had changed. He couldn’t deny that. “I worry about that too.” He admitted, not meeting his eyes.

Matt threw his hands out like the solution was obvious. “So go talk some sanity into him!”

“We’re on a break, Matt!” Dallon retorted, and when Matt sat back he reminded himself not to snap. He took a deep breath, running his hands over his thighs. “Look, I can’t do anything except wait. I’m doing what Brendon asked for. I’m putting him first.”

“Brendon doesn’t know how to handle anything.” Matt argued, but immediately he sighed and shook his head. He and his little brother fought sometimes and he had grown up with him, after all, but he didn’t need to discuss who Brendon was to his boyfriend. Dallon knew. “Look. I love Brendon, y’know? He’s my baby brother. I have to love him. Even when he’s a pain in my ass. Which is most of the time, Dallon, I’ll tell you. For a long time he was scared of a lot of things and it was scary for us too, trying to help and not knowing how. He didn’t know what to do about it then and he doesn’t know what to do about it now. He thinks he’s doing the right thing but it’s hurting both of you.”

“I can’t blame him for trying to do this for himself.”

“No, you don’t have to blame him. But... look, Dallon. I’ve lived with Brendon almost eighteen years. The only thing that’s ever even made him relatively happy was you. So I wanna make sure you’re not going to break his heart.”

Dallon shook his head, affronted, shocked that he’d even assume so. “Matt, I love that boy. I love him more than anyone should be allowed to love.” He swore, and sometimes he forgot how true that really was. How much Brendon had changed things for him. “I will never break his heart, if I can help it. I want that heart happy forever.”

Matt nodded, looking a little more at ease hearing him say it. “I want him happy too.” He agreed. So they were on the same page, then.

Dallon swallowed, looking him over for a minute and seeing the resemblance, though he looked more like his father and Brendon looked more like his mom. They had the same eyes, though. Big brown eyes. Matt’s were more wise than curious, though. “How is he doing? Is he alright?” He asked, wishing he could ask Brendon himself.

“He’s okay.” Matt promised, and Dallon started to twist the ring on his finger again, trying to get the anxious energy out. He’d been doing that for days, trying to distract himself. Forget the things clouding his judgment. “Cleaning a lot. He does that when he’s stressed.”

“Yeah, well.” He ran his thumb over the rim of the wedding band, trying to imagine that one day he and Brendon would make it. This couldn’t all be over. This was just a bump. A rough patch. Everybody had them. Maybe not everybody’s lasted this long, but then again he and Brendon were unconventional already. “I make a mess when I’m stressed.”

“You two really are perfect for each other.” He mused, and Dallon looked up at him thoughtfully. “He’s doing alright, Dallon. He’s just trying to make sense of things. He’s been rambling a lot and writing a lot and he’s doing that thing where he wants everyone to leave him alone but then he’s scared to be alone so he’s up all of our asses. He’s got a lot of feelings. It’s hard for him to try and get it together sometimes.”

“Yeah, I know.” He went to bite his thumbnail absently, picking up on Brendon’s bad habits. “I want to be there for him. It’s just hard to do that when we’re not together.”

“At least you’re trying,” Matt offered, and Dallon looked up at him, into the Urie eyes, wishing that Brendon’s were there too. He loved Brendon’s eyes. The curiosity bathed in them. “That’s a lot more than anybody could ever say.”

“I guess.” Dallon sighed, putting his head in his hands. His Brendon. It was so easy to love him. It was so hard to forget that, even for a minute. “I’m just worried about him isolating himself. That’s the worst thing he can do. I just don’t feel right about pushing him to do things that he isn’t comfortable with.”

“I see where you’re coming from. And especially because it’s Brendon. He came out of the womb stubborn.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” He bit his nail again, shaking his head. “I really hate not seeing him every day.”

“He’s been kind of exhausting. I guess it’s good that you guys are taking a break. You might need it.”

“Bren thinks so too. That I need it. I think that’s what he tells himself to justify it.” He sighed, putting a hand on his forehead. “I think we need each other more than we need to stay away from each other. I just want him to realize that for himself so I don’t have to shove it down his throat.”

“He will.” Matt promised him. That was the thing; he sounded so sure. Like he knew Brendon would come around eventually. He had known Brendon a lot longer than Dallon had, anyway. Dallon had to trust that it would resolve itself.

“Brendon’s brother visited me today.” Dallon said conversationally that evening as he helped his mother set the table, placing two plates down since she’d promised her boyfriend wouldn’t be eating with them.

She looked up, intrigued but not saying so, as she set the food down in between them. “Yeah? What did he have to say?”

“Just that he thinks this break thing is stupid and that he wants me to end it because Brendon needs me. And he’s right, mom, this is stupid.” He sighed, dropping his arms to his sides in defeat. “It’s so stupid. But it’s what he asked for. I’m trying to help. Am I just missing the cues? Is it one of those situations where he says one thing but means another?”

“I don’t know, honey.” She sighed, pulling off her oven mitts. “I think Brendon needs some time and you need to give him some. If it’s what he says he wants, trust that he knows himself well enough to make that decision and when you’re back together, you can decide together if it helped.”

“Not back together. We’re not broken up.” He corrected her, he didn’t want to get that twisted, and prayed Brendon knew that too. They were still together. It was just a little break.

“You know what I mean.” She tsked, but every word spoken about he and Brendon mattered. When it was important to him, every word mattered. “Dallon. You’re stressing yourself out about this. Maybe it’s good that you’re on a break. You could use some time alone too.”

“The only problem is that I don’t do well alone.” Dallon muttered, looking at the table in front of him and willing himself not to cry. She caught the tears in his eyes quick, had been conditioned to, and he stepped back but she enveloped him in a hug before he could push her away.

“He’s just a boy, Dallon.” She whispered, rubbing his back. That was hard to remember sometimes. Brendon was just a boy. He was just a boy. A boy that had Dallon wrapped around his finger, though. A boy he had vowed not to be without. “No boy is worth your tears.”

“Brendon is worth everything.” He said shudderingly against her shoulder, feeling pathetic for crying, he always did so easily when he got in touch with his feelings. She shook her head, sighing but not arguing. Dallon didn’t listen to disagreement.

“Eat something. We can talk after. You’ll feel better.” She kissed his forehead and he nodded. He didn’t tell her that he didn’t want to eat, and didn’t want to talk, and that he knew he wouldn’t feel better. He just nodded, sliding into his seat, and tried not to blame himself.

* * *

He promised himself he wasn't pulling away. He promised Dallon too, because really, it was just a dumb coping mechanism. Hiding away from everything and everyone. Dallon got it, said he'd done it too once upon a time, and Brendon just had to wait things out. Wait things out, and try not to be bothered when he knew that Dallon was spending the weekend with Ryan and Josh, just like they did before Brendon existed to them. Even though he flipped a coin and knew that no matter what he'd be choosing a weekend alone, he couldn't help but feel bad.

"What are you doing, Bren?" Kara asked when she stepped into Brendon's room during approximately his second hour of his Friday evening post-shift. He glanced up, the dinosaur holding a cake was starting to taunt him and he was starting to get hungry, and she pat his ankle.

"Y'know. Staring at the ceiling. Thinking about ordering an extra large pizza for myself so I can eat my feelings because everything else I do is useless. Why?"

"Stop." She shoved his ankle, and he couldn't be bothered to smile when she sighed and sat back on the bed like she didn't know what to do with him. "I was gonna go out with Mason and the twins. We want you to come. Mama and daddy are having a date night tonight for their anniversary, so we should go out and celebrate the fact that they decided to have all of us." He made a face, and she nodded her head toward the door insistently. "C'mon."

"Must I?" She nodded, so with a grunt he sat up and took her hand so she could pull him up to stand. "Okay, then. I gotta change. Where are we going?"

"I don't know. Dinner. Any requests?" He shook his head, stumbling over one of his fallen blankets. "We'll figure it out." She sat back against his bed, and he began to root through his drawers in search of something that wasn't sweatpants to wear out. That wasn't socially acceptable. He'd been stared at enough lately. She was quiet for a second, watching her little brother move about his room silently, and then she asked, "It’s Friday night. You're not out with Dallon?"

He sighed to himself at that, happy that he wasn't facing her so that she wouldn't see his face. If she did then she would know; he wished he had the energy for him. The energy for anyone, for that matter. But in the past few months Dallon had seen the worst side of him and he needed to give him a break as much as he needed one himself. There was only so much crying on his shoulder he could do before he felt bad for being a burden. Dallon said he wasn't, but sometimes Brendon had trouble believing it.

"No, Dallon is with his friends right now. I'm tired, I don't feel well, I didn't wanna ruin his weekend. I feel like I've just been in the way lately. You're only eighteen once. He should be enjoying it, not taking care of me." He turned to her as he tugged down his sweatpants, and her eyes met his. "Before you ask, I'm okay. I just... he talked to me about how with... y'know, with depression, it's common to pull away and distance yourself. That's what I'm doing, and I know I shouldn't be, but I'm doing it for both of us. I need a break sometimes, and I think he does too."

She nodded; he expected her to understand. She was good at analyzing everyone's side and trying to see where they were coming from. "I think that's pretty big of you. To ensure that your mental health isn't taking a toll on his. I heard that people with mental illnesses can clash sometimes, and I hope that's never the case with you and Dallon. You're good together. I know you don't think you need to be taken care of, but he does it well. So do you, sometimes."

"Yeah, I guess." He straightened out the skinny jeans he'd pulled out and started to tug them on, averting his gaze downward. "I think that for the past couple of months, my being bad has made him bad. He hasn't exactly said that, but I just... I have a feeling that it's hard to see me like this. I know because it's hard for me to see him like this, too. So if he wants to spend some time with his friends, then I want him to. Even if it makes me feel a little left out. Even if it was my decision to stay home."

“It’s good to take some time for yourself sometimes.” She figured, and he knew, but he was just worried that it wasn’t only that. That he wanted all his time to himself because he couldn’t find it in him to welcome anybody else. “Mama said you two are taking a little break. That your decision?”

He nodded as he examined himself in the mirror, making sure he looked presentable. “Yep. Just need some space. Not permanent, or anything.” He caught her staring at him, her eyes reading worry, and he turned to look at her. “I’m serious, Kara. I’m not gonna break up with him. I’m sick of everyone thinking I am.”

“Okay, okay.” She put her hands up in surrender, raising her eyebrows comically. He didn’t think it was very funny. “Don’t freak out. I’m just trying to gauge how serious this is. You tend to leave that part out.”

“It’s not serious at all. Pretty soon we’ll be back together and it’ll be like nothing ever happened. I’m just going through a lot right now and I needed to step back. Make sure I have the space to breathe. That’s all. We’re still talking.” He grabbed a pink sweatshirt from the ottoman and pulled it on. “Sorry. I’m just...”

“Defensive. I get it. It’s your relationship. I have no place in it. Help me up.” He did, giving her his hand, and she led him to the door. “Fries will help, I’m sure.”

“Oh, I bet. That thing isn’t gonna come out of you anytime soon, right?” He asked apprehensively, letting her down the stairs first. He didn’t want to deliver a baby so young. He didn’t really want to deliver a baby at all.

“Two months to go. Don’t worry.” She assured him, and he sighed in relief as they met their siblings in the living room, getting ready to go. A night out would be good. The point of the break was to take some time for himself. That didn’t mean he had to be completely alone and miserable.

Across town, Dallon sat on Ryan’s couch, biting at his thumb nail with the faintest smile as Ryan shooed his youngest sister out of the kitchen, where she tried to steal the bag of fries he’d ordered for his friends. “Get out of here, you worm.” He swatted at her and she swatted back, sticking out her tongue. “Mom said you have to leave me alone tonight.”

“Mom said you have to leave me alone tonight.” She mimicked in a whiny, high pitched voice.

Ryan turned to stare at Dallon, an eye twitching for comedic affect. “I’m gonna smother her.” He mouthed, and Dallon’s eyebrows went up in amusement.

“Ryan, please, just give her some food.” His mom called from her office down the hall, making him look in disbelief as if she could see him. Dallon smiled as Caroline did too, he loved watching big families, part of why he loved staying at Brendon’s so much, and Ryan rolled his eyes to himself, grabbing a paper plate from the cabinet.

“Fine, but you’re staying in your room for the rest of the night.” He poured some fries onto the plate and she grinned up at him cheekily before taking off toward the stairs, leaving him to grab more plates for he and his friends. “Sorry. She’s such a brat.” He apologized from over the counter, setting the plates down.

“Nah, she’s cute.” Dallon waved it off, he didn’t have siblings so he didn’t know what it was like to deal with them. He just thought it was funny how calm Ryan was when he wasn’t around them. How different he was.

“Oh,” Josh leaned against one side of the staircase as Caroline bolted up the other, her plate of fries in hand. He balanced himself, starting back down the stairs, and called out to Ryan, “it’s really weird being here when your family is home.”

“I couldn’t get rid of her tonight. Jule is at a friend’s house. They usually cooperate when I ask them to cause my mom makes them. Caroline’s friend has the flu so she couldn’t take her tonight. Dal, do you want pizza?” He called as Josh plopped down on the other couch.

“No, I’m okay.” He declined, avoiding Josh’s skeptical gaze. Everyone was just looking out for him these days. They didn’t have a reason to. He was fine.

“I’m gonna give you some.” Ryan decided nonetheless, and pulled a slice out of the box.

“Ryan.” Dallon half laughed, knew he’d be that way, but still found it funny how hard he tried to take care of him.

“It’s good, I promise. Josh, tell him it’s good.” Ryan pointed at Josh and Josh rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, playing along.

“It’s good, Dallon.” He said, loud enough for Ryan to hear his sarcasm, but Ryan just smiled as he carried them their plates with the bag of fries under his arm. “You’re a little nuts tonight.” He added, accepting the plate and balancing it on his knees.

“You try having an annoying little sister who‘s constantly up your ass when you’re trying to entertain.” He gestured to his friends and they exchanged smiles, watching him plop down on the couch beside Dallon.

“I do have a younger sister,” Josh retorted.

“She’s sixteen, Josh, shut up.” Ryan kicked at him and Josh scoffed, but Dallon smiled to himself. He knew getting out of the house was a good idea. He liked spending time with his friends like they did before things were bad. “Let me know if you want more pizza.” He bumped his knee against Dallon’s.

“I have legs, Ryan, chill.” He assured him, but smiled reassuringly when he caught his worried eyes. “I’ve been good lately. Eating and stuff.”

“Good. That’s really good.” Ryan shifted to sit cross legged on the couch, toeing Dallon’s leg with a socked foot playfully. “How are you doing? With Bren and stuff?”

He shrugged, resting his chin on his knee. “I don't know.” He sighed, and looked away from their concerned gazes to pick at his slice of pizza. “I miss him. Like, a lot. We’ve been texting a little bit. But we haven’t talked on the phone or seen each other outside of school. It feels more like we’re avoiding each other than taking a break, at this point. It seems like he’s going out of his way to not see me. Going to the library during lunch and stuff.”

“It’s the pressure.” Josh reasoned, making Dallon turn to look at him. “Tyler said he’s not really talking to him either. He’s isolating himself. Which I guess is the point of the break, but-“

“Isolating yourself is the worst thing to do.” Dallon sighed, pushing his plate away, suddenly feeling sick.

“Don’t make me force feed you.” Ryan interrupted, eyeing he and his plate dangerously. Dallon half smiled, loved that he looked out for him, and moved his legs to cross as he reached out for the bag of fries. “I don’t think he’s avoiding you, Dal. I think Josh is right. The pressure of trying to be present when he can’t be. Sometimes you don’t have the ability to be around people. Even the ones you love. That’s just where he’s at right now.”

“I guess. I’m just worried that there’s a reason. Like he’s trying to get ready to break up with me but doesn’t know how so he doesn’t want to talk to me until he figures out how to do it.”

“That’s your paranoia, Dallon.” Ryan pointed out. He was right. Dallon had always been paranoid. He nodded, didn’t even bother denying it, just picked out a handful of fries and smiled cheekily at him.

“At least I have you guys. You love me.”

“Yes we do. And so does Brendon.” Ryan returned, made sure he knew it, and Dallon picked at the crust of his pizza. He knew. It was just hard not hearing it after Brendon practically told him every day.

“Can we change the subject?” He asked. They both nodded, exchanging a brief look, and Dallon pretended he didn’t see it. He did that for them sometimes. It was just his form of common courtesy. Being a good friend. “So how are you guys? Anything new?”

They both shook their heads, and Dallon turned to look at Josh expectantly. “What? I have nothing interesting going on. Waiting for track season to start. Hoping for good scholarships. Ty and I are trying to talk about college but it’s been stressing us both out. Trying to figure out whether we’ll stay together or not or go to the same school or live together. It’s a lot to think about.”

“Yeah, I get that. I wanna see where Brendon and I are at in sixth months, but I’m fairly certain I’d like to live with him or at least stay close. I know I don’t want to dorm and I’m not sure about staying at home. I want some individuality. I just want him there too.” He picked up his slice of pizza when he caught Ryan staring him down. “College isn’t a problem, but he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Close to home, though.”

“That’s probably smart. He seems like he’d be better off near everyone.” Josh figured, though he wanted to get out of Nevada for school. Dallon wasn’t sure how Brendon would feel about that if Tyler tagged along.

“What about you?” Dallon asked Ryan, making him look up from his plate. “You come out to your mom yet?”

“No. Soon.” He pulled a knee to his chest, he always did that when he felt weird about oversharing, and rested his chin on his knee. “I’m trying to work up the courage. And to figure out how to say it. I know she’s not gonna hate me but it’s just... weird. I don’t know.”

“Coming out is really scary.” Dallon agreed quietly, thinking back to when he told his parents. They were always so understanding. He was really lucky in that regard. “Your mom is cool, though. She won’t mind. And your sisters won’t care. Ardan’s okay with me so he’ll be okay with you.”

“And I pray I’ll never have to see my father again.” He sighed, more to himself than anything, reaching out to grab his cup of soda. He didn’t talk about it often. Didn’t like to. It wasn’t like they didn’t know, though. Dallon had been there the whole time.

“Do you know where he is?” He asked quietly, knew Ryan wondered, that the curiosity got the better of him sometimes. He wondered too, because with his father it was even more uncertain.

Ryan shook his head, not looking him in the eye. “Somewhere in north Vegas. That’s all I know, though. The asshole nearly killed me. I shouldn’t want to know where he is.” His voice was bitter, neglectful.

“But it’s alright if you do.” Josh added gently, exchanging a look with Dallon but not saying what he was really thinking.

“Okay! This isn’t about my angst. Stop interrogating me.” He laughed defensively, but they knew his tone. He put his walls up. Didn’t want to admit a lot of things. Dallon recognized that well enough. “Dallon, eat your goddamn pizza or so help me God.”

“Yes, mother.” Dallon obeyed, making a scene out of taking a bite just for him. Ryan smiled, satisfied, and Dallon added, “I hate that we only talk about my problems when we’re together. I mean, we’re all fucked up. I can’t be the only one whining about my life.”

“It’s easier to focus on your problems than mine,” Ryan pointed out, always a better listener than anything.

“I guess.” He shrugged, though he didn’t necessarily agree. None of it was solvable. He was a shitty boyfriend and Brendon was starting to realize that. He wasn’t even sure how he hadn’t months ago.

After they ate Josh went to plug his phone in to charge upstairs so Dallon helped Ryan clear out the living room, carrying used plates and napkins to the kitchen. Ryan’s house was nice, lived in, comfortable. With photos of he and his siblings hanging up and kids’ toys because Caroline was still young, so everyone else was obligated to play with her. Dallon liked lived in spaces. They felt like home.

“Hey, are you okay?” Dallon asked suddenly as he helped Ryan clean up their mess. Ryan turned to look at him skeptically, not expecting to be interrogated again, though Dallon caught on to a lot of things other people didn’t. He was good at knowing Ryan. It was one of the only things he was good at. “And don’t say yes cause I know you’re not.”

“I’m fine.” Ryan shrugged, slipping the bottle of soda back into the fridge. Dallon raised his eyebrows in disbelief, giving him that look. “Dal, seriously, I’m fine. I’ve just been thinking lately...” He leaned back against the refrigerator door and crossed his arms, not looking him in the eye even though Dallon stared at him as he spoke. “I don’t know. Coming out and whatever. It’s freaking me out. Getting in my head. I grew up with a lot of homophobia. Being told that this is wrong. So much so that I denied who I was and lied to you because I let him get to me. So what if it’s a rebellion against my dad? Me liking guys. Maybe my subconscious is just like, take revenge on your asshole father and suck a dick! I don’t know.”

Dallon laughed, crossing the room to stuff the empty pizza box in the recycling bin. “You may be right. Maybe I am too. Grew up Mormon. Went to Jesus school for three years. Josh too. And Brendon, growing up in the church. Isn’t that nuts, when you think about it?”

“Yeah, Dal. It’s nuts,” Ryan sighed deeply, like he just couldn’t believe that this was where he ended up, and extended an arm to him when Dallon turned to catch his gaze. Dallon raised an eyebrow again, and Ryan added, “I need a hug.” He gestured toward himself. Dallon smiled, but didn’t say anything as he went to envelope him in a hug. He squeezed him tight, shaking his head, and whispered, “my dad would kill me if he were around.”

“Your dad is a dick, Ryan. Don’t ever let what he said about you get in your head.” Dallon whispered back, remembering all those times Ryan had cried to him, asked his parents to help bandage his wounds. It was hard trying to come to terms with who you were when you were raised thinking that was wrong.

“I try not to.”

“I know.” He assured him, and pulled away to offer a supportive smile. “It’s nice talking about your problems for once.”

“Hey.” He punched him in the stomach playfully, not hard enough to hurt. “Trying to get your mind off of it.”

“What a saint.” He put a hand to his chest, though it was rooted in truth. He really was a saint. Dallon couldn’t even express how true that was. He just watched him cross the room again, throwing out their plates, and smiled in spite of himself.

Kara pat Brendon’s back and led him from the car to the front door, out of the low temperature and into a dimly lit room where he recognized the decorations like no time had passed since he’d been here. Brendon smiled to himself, following his siblings to the table. “This is where I had my first double date. My picture is on the wall.”

“We used to come here all the time as kids. You remember?” Kara asked and Brendon nodded, had vivid memories of ordering their chicken fingers because it was all he ate for years. It was still mainly what he ordered out, his taste buds never having changed, because anything with a side of fries was a safe bet.

“Yeah, I do.” He said, sliding into a booth.

Brendon looked around him as he thumbed the menu on the table, at the colorful Christmas lights, the placemats with crayon mazes on them to help the pig find his way to the mud. The silly names for meals on the menu and his siblings settling down around him. Kara had an arm around him, rubbing his shoulder aimlessly, and he needed this. Getting out of the house with people he knew he couldn’t push away because they wouldn’t let him.

Mason flipped through the menu, mentioning some ridiculous name to Kara, and Matt typed on his phone while Kyla eyed him dangerously. “Hey, get off your phone. It’s sibling day. We never do this. Talk to us.” Kyla grabbed his phone and pocketed it swiftly, ignoring his protests and shoving her palm flat against his face when he tried to reach into her jacket pocket to steal it back.

“You’re lucky my friends were busy tonight.” He muttered, and Kyla shoved him hard, making his shoulder hit the wall of the booth.

"You're lucky I didn't absorb you for your resources in utero!" She retorted, and Brendon smiled to himself as he flipped open his own menu. He always did that, took forever to look at the menu, though he typically walked into places knowing what he wanted. The usual, with a Sprite, and a cherry in it because the waitress thought he was adorable. And younger than he was, apparently, people always assumed he was, but it made him feel good. Like he could relive his childhood before things went wrong.

Brendon made conversation with his siblings as he tore apart his food, not even having realized how starving he was. He didn’t get out with them often. It was rare when none of them were busy. Kara was talking about her dream nursery and Kyla was giving color suggestions, boring their brothers though Brendon thought it was exciting. She’d be moving out soon, he wasn’t ready for that, but the baby. That baby would change things.

“I’d like to have kids someday.” Brendon pointed out when Kara said she wanted more at some point, preferably close in age.

“I wouldn’t.” Kyla snorted, always having been adverse to the idea, but added, “I mean, it’s a good plan for you guys, though. You’ll be great parents. You’re both so empathetic.”

“I don’t know about that. I can barely take care of myself.” Brendon picked at a french fry, frowning. “I don’t know if that’s in the cards for me. A family. An actual future. It seems so distant.”

“You’re only seventeen. You’ve got a lot of time.” Mason assured him.

“I guess so.” He didn’t disagree, but that was the point. He didn’t feel like he had a lot of time. He just wanted everything to make sense now.

He listened half-heartedly at the conversation that followed, they always knew when to change the subject, and only nodded when they asked if he wanted a box for his leftovers. He got up to follow them out, looking around at the decorations and catching his photo on the wall from his first double date. Dallon had a protective arm around his shoulders, smiling that smile that wasn’t really a smile. He remembered that day. He wanted to make Dallon feel better. He always wanted Dallon to feel better.

The air was cold but he felt refreshed, almost. Like the night rejuvenated him. He stood with his head tilted back, squinting to try and catch sight of a few stars, and the fresh air was sharp when he sighed out loud. He needed it. Kara called for him and he went to join them in Mason’s car, squeezing into the middle of the back because he was the youngest and that was what he got. But it was fine. He didn’t mind the middle. Not when he was surrounded by people who made it okay.

The lights were all out when they get home, save for their parents’ bedroom. Nights out were always bittersweet, because the sun sets and the sky gets dark and then the lights get turned off. It felt honest sometimes, like after a day of artificiality the moon admitted to these falsities. Sometimes there was nothing to admit but it felt that way anyway. Because after a long day, a day out with important people and things that made him smile for the first time in days, smile for real, it was like nighttime was letting go. Some things just weren’t so easy to let go of.

Brendon poked his head into his parents’ room to say goodnight, trying to smile for their sake. “We just got home. I’m gonna go to bed.”

“Okay. Hey, Bren, there’s something for you on your desk. Dallon dropped it off.” His dad said, and he furrowed his eyebrows, exchanging goodnights with them before he pulled back into the hallway.

As he opened his door Kara caught his attention, making him turn to look, only half shocked as she had been trailing behind him. “Hey, c’mere.” Kara put a hand on his shoulder and tugged him into a hug. “Are you okay?”

Brendon nodded. He really needed tonight. He needed that break. “Yeah, no, I’m fine. I’m gonna go to bed. But thank you.” He pulled away only for her to push some hair out of his eyes, smiling warmly at the boy like it was some breakthrough. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Bren. Goodnight.” She kissed the top of his head and left him at his doorway, where he stood for a second and wondered where that left him. In a few months Kara would be gone. College was approaching, he had no idea what he wanted to do, and the rest of his life sat waiting for him in a place he didn’t want to look.

He turned and slipped into his room, feeling empty despite the way the night turned out, as he never really knew how to rid himself of that feeling. That vacancy. He rubbed at his eyes underneath his glasses, exhausted because the night had been longer than he’d expected, but when he pulled his hands away he caught sight of it: a bouquet of flowers, wrapped up neatly and set down on his desk. His eyes softened and he crossed the room, plucking the card from in between two leaves.

Because I think you need it.

He held it to his chest, feeling warm all over. He knew this was a mistake. Distancing himself from the only person who ever made him feel this way. He knew. He just didn’t know how to fix everything he’d damaged.

He changed into pajamas and pulled his glasses off, leaving them on his side table as he slid into bed, his door still cracked open and the sound of quiet chatter down the hall. He pulled his covers up high, tucking them just underneath his chin, trying to find the words to say. Which permutation of thank you to use because it was never enough, with Dallon. He deserved so much more than the English language offered him.

Bumblebee: thank you for the flowers

Bumblebee: I really needed that tonight

Dally: I just thought you deserved a good surprise for once. how was your night?

Bumblebee: it was okay I went out for dinner with my siblings and it was nice to spend time with them for a little while. are you having fun with your friends

Dally: I'm glad you're feeling better, I know we're taking a minute but let me know if you want to talk or something. I'm here

Dally: I am! we’re going to bed soon but I’m glad you texted I was gonna check up on you. I haven't heard from you and I wanted to make sure you were okay

Bumblebee: I'm okay and thank u I really needed to hear from u tonight

Bumblebee: I love u so much

Dally: I really needed to hear from you too

Dally: you too more than anything please get some sleep tonight and I'll talk to you soon xo

Bumblebee: I'm going to bed now. take your own advice and go to bed please you need to rest too

Dally: will do angel goodnight

Bumblebee: goodnight

Brendon locked his phone and dropped it onto the mattress beside him, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh. His first double date, trying to cheer Dallon up and making him laugh all night, building bridges and making better friends. Becoming someone he never thought he would really ever be. Becoming someone else, soon after. He didn’t know where any of that left him.

He should be happy. He had a great family and great friends and a great boyfriend and great memories. He had so many saved smiles. He just felt like they were taunting him now.

He squinted in the dark at the flowers, sitting on his desk until he could find a vase for them. Anybody could fall in love with Dallon Weekes. He was just the lucky one. He would be crazy to let him go.

He turned onto his side, closing his eyes against the darkness. Crazy. He would be absolutely crazy.

* * *

Dallon sat at Ryan’s kitchen table in the dim light of the overheads, staring as steam rolled out in clouds from the mug he’d found in the cupboard. He felt comfortable there, after spending so many years. Knew where all the mugs were, which ones he liked the most, which ones held the perfect amount of cocoa.

Socked footsteps padded into the room and Dallon looked up to see Josh nod a head at him, looking around to see that he was alone. “Ryan is so silent when he sleeps, I thought he was dead. I seriously think he stops breathing.”

Dallon found it in him to smile, leaning back in the chair he’d claimed and looking up to meet Josh’s eyes when he sat down across from him. “You talk in your sleep. It fucking freaks me out. Ryan and I used to lay awake and try and decode everything you said. We thought you were an alien trying to communicate with your home planet.”

“You guys have always been so weird.” Josh shook his head, smiling in this way that Dallon never really understood. Like he knew something no one else did. Like he was completely omniscient. Ryan and Dallon always had a special relationship. People spent a lot of time trying to figure it out. “What are you doing up?”

“I wasn’t tired. Busy thinking.” He traced the rim of the mug, leaving a drop of cocoa on his fingertip. “I love seeing him around his sisters. Is that weird?” Josh shrugged one shoulder and Dallon did too, knew it probably was. He didn’t mind. “I don’t know. I think it’s an only child thing. I get all warm and fuzzy when I see big families. Ryan’s. Brendon’s. I love seeing Brendon with his siblings. I’ve always wondered, y’know, what it would be like. Having a big family. Fighting over the bathroom and food and everything. Having a full house all the time.”

“You really have a way of glorifying everything, huh?” He asked, sketched through a laugh. Dallon smiled, not bothering to deny it because it was true; he loved the idea. He loved the idea of a lot of things.

“I can’t help it. I was a lonely kid. I just love the prospect of having people who know what I’m going through too.” He shrugged, and tried hard to imagine it. A family. He hadn’t had that in a long time. “People who see from my perspective. People to talk to and to have around all the time and to share everything with. I could've used that when my dad died. I could’ve used it every day since then.”

“Well, I guess having bratty little sisters isn’t quite the same as having siblings close to your age,” Josh figured.

“He has Ardan,” Dallon pointed out. “I’d kill for a brother like Ardan.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe you don’t need siblings to have people that know what you’re going through and stuff.” He nudged Dallon’s wrist so he looked up, raising an eyebrow at him. “C’mon. Ryan and I have been here for most of it, right? We’re like your brothers.”

“Yeah, in light of our long and complicated history, I wouldn’t exactly call Ry my brother. But you. You’re a good brother.” He bumped his fist lightly against Josh’s, half smiling. He was right. They were his family. Brendon was too. Sometimes people just had unconventional families. He’d always been one of them. “Ryan’s just my best friend. I think I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Fair enough.” He nodded, and Dallon took a sip of his cocoa slowly, though it wasn’t very hot anymore. “And Brendon?”

Dallon took a deep breath as he set his mug down. Brendon. Brendon Urie was so much more than words could ever say. “My soulmate.” He decided on after a minute of silence, sounding distant, and Josh’s eyes were soft when he looked back at him. “Do you remember in sixth grade when I did Romeo and Juliet on a whim?”

Josh nodded, remembering too well the little school play. How Dallon nervously signed up because he thought it would be a good idea at the time. It wasn’t: he was scared of the spotlight and was a terrible actor and had no friends so it wasn’t fun. He just wanted to try and find his place, was all. “And Ryan’s dad wouldn’t let him go see it.”

“So he snuck out.” Dallon recalled, thinking back to the joy he’d felt when he saw him there, with flowers he’d stolen from his neighbor’s garden and a nervous smile because he knew the repercussions. That was what you did for your best friend. You snuck out and stole flowers for them and hugged them too long because the reward had to be better than the risk. “I realized something when I grew up. You know how you can feel yourself growing up, and sometimes you have these moments like, wow, this is a moment that I can feel myself growing up.”

Josh nodded slowly, trying to make sense of Dallon’s words as he did so often. He wasn’t even really sure Dallon knew what he was talking about either, though. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Like when you get a new haircut, and you think, y’know, maybe this is the point where I start to look like an adult. Where I’ll look back in ten years and think, that haircut started when I looked different. Something like that. But you know... I realized, at the same time that I realized I grew up, that there are different sides to every dice. I used to just think that it was two, y’know? Two sides. Good and bad. A fifty-fifty chance, and you either get lucky or you don’t. Now I realize I was wrong. There aren’t two sides. There are six sides to every dice. I don’t know how people don’t see that. There are six sides.” He twisted his ring, looking away distantly. “So many fucking sides that it kills.”

Josh’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he tilted his head carefully at him. “What do you mean, exactly?”

“I don’t know, Josh.” He sighed, covering his face with his hands like he were going crazy. That was just what he feared. “I don’t know. I think, at the time of that stupid play, I think that was a moment where I realized something. That there’s not just, y’know. The two sides. The good and the bad. Because there are closed doors. Like... like Ryan’s father hitting him when he got home from going to see his best friend’s stupid little sixth grade play. Or like Brendon Urie, secretly being this terrified mess behind the daydream that I thought he was. There’s the good and the bad, but then there’s everything else. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

“And that’s... that’s something you realized in sixth grade?” Dallon nodded, tracing the rim of his mug idly once more. “That’s young, Dallon.” He told him, an observation, with sorrow in his voice. Like it were disappointing that a child came up with that theory.

He didn’t deny it, just nodded again, and looked up with no emotion in his eyes. “I really didn’t ever have an innocent view of the world. At least Brendon had that. It shouldn’t have been taken away from him.”

“I agree.” Josh said lightly, and Dallon looked away indignantly. Wished he could change things. His anxiety. Brendon’s fears. The art of caring too much and the familiarity of guilt.

“I loved that he was innocent. Or that he is. I don’t... I don’t know anymore. But I love that he asks questions and has this light in his eyes and the way he laughs like a child. I just... I don’t want that to be over. I don’t want that to be gone.” He said pleadingly, like Josh could give him the answers, though he was just as lost as Dallon. “I just don’t... I don’t get how something like this could happen. How, out of everyone in this fucking world, how out of seven billion people, Brendon Urie is the one that this all happens to? How is he the one that gets hurt?”

“It’s like you said. Sometimes you get lucky.” Josh sighed, like that were the only explanation. But it couldn’t be. There had to be a reason. It couldn’t all be chance. “Sometimes you just don’t.”

“Yeah.” He looked down at his hands in defeat as the realization set in. He couldn’t change anything. He was just a cog in God’s plan. “Everything was so much easier when I thought there were only two sides to every dice.”

“Die.” Josh corrected, and Dallon looked up incredulously. “I mean, the singular of dice is die-“

“Why do you do it?” Dallon asked, shaking his head as Josh smiled sheepishly back at him. “Seriously.”

“Sorry.” He laughed, and Dallon sat back in his seat, smiling nonetheless, and leaned down to take a sip of his cocoa. “Hey, Dal?” Dallon looked up expectantly. “I think that as long as you believe in him, he’ll keep his innocence. As long as you’re the one that sees it.” He slid out of his seat and Dallon looked up, eyes big as if taking it all in. “I’m gonna go try to sleep and make sure Ryan’s still alive. Are you coming?” He nodded his head toward the stairs.

“In a second.” Dallon looked down at his hands and Josh nodded, didn’t push it, just headed up and left him in the dark alone. With a mug he’d found in the cabinet himself, in a house he’d grown to know well in his years.

In a world where he already felt alone.

He sat there quietly, staring at his mug. He thought about the guise of acting okay and the warmth of a big family. He thought about cocoa and picture frames and somehow pristine mugs. He thought about his stolen flowers, the light in his eyes, and he prayed for innocence. For Ryan’s, for Brendon’s, his own. He prayed, and he hoped it wasn’t all in vain.


	45. Chapter 44: A Cautionary Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is one of my all time favorite things I've written-- TW for lotsa things, but Dallon and Ryan's friendship is so important to this story!

Dallon was lonely. And it wasn’t that type of lonely where calling up some friends fixed it, or where a few texts from loved ones did either. It was that kind of lonely you still felt deep down when you were in a crowded room, where you promised everyone you were fine when you weren’t. It was this permanent feeling, or lack thereof. A permanent loss.

He pushed Ryan’s bedroom door open without knocking. He had a habit of doing it since they were kids. He never had siblings so he didn’t really know not to. Ryan looked up from where he was sitting at his desk, typing on his laptop like it would explode if he stopped, and Dallon kicked his door shut and went to lay down in his bed. “Nice to see you too.” Ryan greeted, perplexed.

“Your mom let me in. I know I saw you this morning and you’re probably busy and sick of me but I didn’t wanna be alone right now. Come spoon me.” Dallon curled up in his bed, reaching out a hand.

Ryan looked between his best friend and his computer before he pushed it shut and went to join Dallon on his bed. Dallon couldn’t find it in him to smile, not even when Ryan climbed over him and wrapped an arm around him, his chest against Dallon’s back and holding him close like he did every time something wasn’t right. “I’m never sick of you. And I'm not busy. Just writing. What’s going on, Dal?” He asked quietly.

“Do you remember...” He started, but paused to find his hand and his words. “Do you remember after my dad died, and I came to your house because I didn’t wanna be home anymore? Caroline was playing dolls in the living room. And I came here, and I played with her cause she said she didn’t wanna play alone.”

Ryan nodded, resting his chin on Dallon’s shoulder carefully. “Uh-huh. I remember.”

“Do you remember what I said?”

The words held more than they seemed to then. He had said it years ago, but sometimes it felt so much more prominent. Like it had been burned in his mind. “Yeah. You told me that you were scared to be alone because you were lonely. And I said that that made no sense, and you said that it does. Because you don’t have to be alone to be lonely.”

“Yeah. And I told you that if I ever felt lonely— like, really lonely— then I was gonna talk to you about it. Especially because you understand that loneliness.” He tightened his hand in Ryan’s, remembering so clearly the way they had been when everything was wrong. “I’m lonely again.”

“Is it because of Brendon?” He asked carefully, and Dallon shrugged, though they both knew the answer. Dallon just wasn’t so good at admitting things he didn’t want to admit. “Dallon. You know you can be honest with me. I’m your best friend.”

“I know.” Dallon’s eyes lazily explored a room he grew up familiarizing himself with and then he closed them, not wanting to see it right now. It was just a constant reminder. “It’s just... it’s weird going from spending every day with him to not being around him at all. It’s sad. Like, I don’t wanna rely on someone else to make me happy, and I thought I didn’t, but... it’s Brendon. And he makes me happy. Like, in a way that no one else ever has. And I’m just scared. I’m so fucking scared.” Dallon whispered, squeezing his eyes shut tighter when a tear slid down his skin as if that would stop it. And he hated to cry about something so minuscule, because it wasn’t like he was dead, and it wasn’t like they were over, but they were broken. Being broken was just as hard when he didn’t know how to fix it.

“What are you scared of, Dal?”

Dallon shook his head, knew what Ryan was doing and swore that he’d be a therapist one day. “I’m worried that I’m not good for him and that he’s gonna break up with me." He humored him. "That that’s what this is all about.”

“I don’t think any part of Brendon wants to break up with you.” He admitted honestly, thinking over what Brendon had said to him across the table and how he looked like all he wanted was to call Dallon and beg for forgiveness. “Say the same thing three months ago and I would have agreed. But you guys aren’t where you were three months ago. You guys are so much more honest.” He reasoned, and Dallon guessed that was true, but that didn’t mean they were fixed. “I think you’re weirdly obsessed with each other, but in a good way. Like you can be apart but you don’t want to be. You’re like, glued at the hip. And that’s not a bad thing, it’s just... I think you spent so much time together that you exhausted yourselves and mixed up everything you’re feeling right now.” Ryan always told him the truth, no matter how brutal. Dallon turned to look at him, wanted to thank him but didn’t know how. “I think he misses you. He’s just worried that he’s, like, enervating you, or something. You’re stressing yourselves out thinking you’re ruining each other but you’re ruining yourselves, honestly.”

“I think you might be right.” And he was, but he wouldn’t tell Dallon that the words were from Brendon himself.

Instead he nodded, looked the side of Dallon’s face up and down carefully like he were reminiscing. “Brendon asked me something really weird the other day.” He said slowly, watching for a reaction.

Dallon tensed up under his arm, a little shocked. They were having secret meetings now? “You saw him?”

“Yeah. I stopped by the diner to talk to him.” Ryan said like it was nothing, and that bothered Dallon more than it should have. That his best friend was meeting with his boyfriend behind his back when they were on a break. Knowing where Ryan stood, and he and Brendon’s fragile state. “He’s okay. Stressed, but... he always is, I guess.”

Dallon nodded slowly like the information was more than it was. Brendon was stressed. What the hell else was new? “What did he ask?”

“Um." He shifted, realizing now that he had to tell him after having brought it up. "He asked what it was like when you were in the psych ward. And how you were after everything. During those two years.” Ryan told him quietly, and found Dallon’s hand to keep cold fingers warm.

And just as well, because Dallon froze. “Oh. What... what did you say?”

“I said I didn’t know much about the psych ward, you never told me that much, but I told him about how you were really bad. How we fought, and everything. How things are better now.” He moved back when Dallon shifted underneath his arm, turning to face him with incredulity. It wasn’t just that Brendon had asked Ryan and not Dallon himself but it was that he had never expressed interest before. Because during the time where it was happening again he and Brendon were fighting too much to listen to what the other really wanted and even then, he was sure Brendon didn’t care. Or maybe he did, and Dallon just didn’t know. The boy tended to ruminate on things and never really try to find his answers. He knew it scared Dallon when he did.

“I didn’t know he cared,” Dallon admitted in a whisper.

“I think he cares more than you know,” Ryan told him, and it kind of stung if Dallon took it to heart. He thought he and Brendon knew how to communicate better. Maybe after all this time he was still hesitant.

It had been months, though, and he was working on trusting Brendon. Finding reasons to trust him. And Brendon had his own set of issues but they worked through it together, they talked about it, or at least he thought they did. Maybe this break was just another lack of communication manifesting itself, Brendon pulling away to adjust to himself alone as a new person, less innocent, though Dallon didn’t think he was. It was just that once Brendon got an idea in his head, he persisted.

Dallon swallowed thickly, suddenly so sick of thinking about this. He loved Brendon. Brendon loved him. So why did it feel like they were suddenly on a sinking ship?

“Can I stay the night?” He asked instead, because Ryan wouldn’t have that answer. He couldn't keep asking him.

“Yeah. Of course.” Ryan agreed, and blue eyes were staring emotionlessly back at him because Dallon was just so sick of feeling. If he had half the mind and heart he did then he’d be sneaking home to play with his pills again but that wasn’t how he solved problems anymore. He couldn’t be that person. “D’you want something to eat? I can go get a snack.”

Dallon nodded, pushing his fist against his nose, and Ryan got up to leave the room because Dallon hated crying in front of people but he had that glazed over look in his eye, he knew. He had cried in front of Ryan a few times, during conversations neither wanted to have, telling truths that he wished weren’t. Ryan knew enough to give him a second to collect himself alone.

His mother was in the kitchen when he got downstairs, making lunch for his youngest sister and the friend she had over. Ryan nodded a hello to her and she said hi, spreading peanut butter onto a slice of bread. “Dal’s bad again,” Ryan said suddenly, going to search through the drawer for a snack. His mom looked up, and he added, “you know how I told you about what happened to Brendon? His boyfriend?” She nodded wordlessly, setting the butter knife down. “He’s really messed up so they’re taking a break and... you know Dallon. Feeling like he’s being abandoned. It’s not good. He’s staying the night.”

“That’s fine.” She granted, liked when he had friends over, and he tried to smile back at her in thanks. She observed him for a moment, reminiscent of the way she had once upon a time when she tried to figure out what he wasn't telling her, before she reached out to pull him in for a hug and pushed his hair back to kiss his forehead. “Thank you for being a good friend.”

“Yeah. I love Dal. He needs it.” He pulled away and smiled for real this time when she stroked his hair down, feeling this stupid sense of pride whenever he made her proud of him. It was validating. Reaffirming.

“I know he does.” She sighed, had known Dallon for years and years before everything happened. “Are you okay? With everything that’s happening with Brendon?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. It’s... familiar, and it sucks, but I’m okay.” He shrugged, going back to find a family size bag of chips in the bottom cupboard. “The thing is, he doesn’t know how to figure things out, he won’t go to therapy because he has before and he doesn’t like it and he doesn't want to go back to the hospital, either. Right now they’re trying to figure out what to do with their relationship, and you know how Dal is. He doesn’t like space, and Brendon does.”

She leaned against the counter thoughtfully. “You think they’ll break up?”

Ryan shook his head confidently, standing up with the bag of chips in hand. “Dal is serious about him. And he’s been in love with Brendon for years. They need each other. I don’t know if he realizes how badly he needs him.”

“Dallon’s smart. He’ll come to realize a lot of things as they both recover.” She watched him set the bag down on the counter and close the cabinet again. “How are you and Dallon?”

“We’re fine, mom.” He insisted, but he tried not to get annoyed. He knew this was just what she did, got on him about how he handled everything because she had opinions and Ryan always tended to mess up. That was what he did. She never knew the whole story, though, as he kept her at arm's length. It wasn't her. He kept everyone at arm's length. Dallon wasn't the only one who was good at that.

“No fighting lately?”

He thought about rolling his eyes but settled for shaking his head, the satisfaction just wouldn’t be the same. “Not since October. And that was on Brendon’s behalf. I mean, he’s just... you have to be careful with him. You know how Dallon is: sometimes he forgets who he’s dealing with and he fucks up and sometimes they don’t balance out right. But everything takes time. Especially right now. He was just being careless and Brendon wasn’t in a good place.”

“As long as you’re not doing your thing where you judge people. Helpful advice is okay.” She added when Ryan opened his mouth to protest. “But you don’t want to fight with Dallon anymore. We’ve been there before. I don’t want you up all night crying because Dallon hates you again for whatever reason.”

“No, it’s not like that.” He assured her, because it wasn’t. He and Dallon didn’t get along at all back then. Dallon would snap at him and Ryan would take it, he knew it went beyond him, and then returned home to cry because he and Dallon had been friends since they were babies and it wasn’t fair. They used to go to the ball pit at the old Burger King after school on Fridays in kindergarten, pretending it was their castle, and then all of a sudden Dallon was telling him to shut the fuck up, because just because he wanted to fill the awkward silence at lunch didn’t mean he had to ramble aimlessly. It was a vicious cycle of disappointment and tearing each other down and crying alone about it under the covers. It wasn't like that anymore.

No. He didn’t want to fight with him.

“It’s easier now. It’s better now.” He assured her, breaking eye contact, and she watched him stare down at his feet pensively. Contemplating. "Whether they're on a break or not, things are better now."

"Why?" She asked, as if to urge him, and he shook his head. Never meant to talk about it, though tonight he was finding himself talking about a lot of things he never wanted to.

"Because Dallon and I used to have a thing, mom." He sighed, staring too hard at his socks, mismatched neon colors that belonged to his sister but had somehow ended up in his drawer. He looked up to see her staring back at him wordlessly. She didn't look shocked but she didn't seem like he had figured it out, either. She just listened, and Ryan shifted frustratedly, not knowing what words to use. "When I turned fifteen. And for a few months after. He had a crush on me and I knew and we had a thing."

"You and Dallon... dated?"

"No. We weren't dating. We just... did stuff. Not sex, not really, but we were more than friends. He liked me and I liked him too. A lot. A lot a lot. But I told him that we couldn't be together because I didn't like boys. But the truth was that I just wasn't sure. I didn't want to experiment with someone I really cared about, you know? I didn't want to hurt him. I tried to be with him even though I was scared because I knew he needed me but he ended up hating me when I stopped. I let it get too far in the first place. It was my fault. But he blames himself and he thinks that he keeps fucking everything up. Just like he fucked us up. But I did too, mom. And I feel bad that he's so guilty over something that I had as much a part in as he did."

She clucked her tongue, nodding slowly, trying to understand. Not judging him like he thought she would. Or like he psyched himself out to believe, anyway. "So he wasn't just mad at you because he was going through a lot then?"

"No. He was mad at me because I didn't want to be with him. But I did, and that's the thing. I did want to. I was just scared. I didn't know what I was. Now I do." He looked up at her, pained, like he expected a rejection. "Is that okay?"

"Of course it's okay, Ryan." She sighed, reaching out to hug him again, and he let out a breath of relief as he hugged her back tight. "I don't care if you like boys. I care that you're a good friend despite everything that happened with him. And you are."

"I'm trying." He said quietly against her shoulder. "But like I said, things are better now. A lot better. So it's easier. Trying to help him. It's better."

“Because he’s with Brendon?”

“Is it stupid to say yes?” He asked and she shrugged, knew how teenage boys worked though she could never figure them out. “I mean, Dallon was a bitch before Brendon. When he liked me. I mean, I know why he did, that he needed me to cling on to, but it was so hard, taking all the shit he gave me just because I didn’t like him back. I was so sick of feeling like I was ruining things. With Brendon, it’s easy. He doesn’t have to worry about me and I don’t have to worry about him.”

“As long as you’re being honest with each other. I don’t want you miserable anymore. You’ve been friends your whole life, Ryan.”

He looked away, down at his socked feet again, bumping blue against pink. He and Dallon had known each other a long time. “I know.”

“And he loves you.” She added. He’d heard the words before, once bittersweet though they were just warm now, having his best friend back. Not being hated for something he couldn’t control.

“And I love him.” He assured her, not to get it twisted. He wasn't going to mess things up. Not again.

"Do you still...?" She trailed off, not exactly knowing how to word it. He knew what she was asking, though. He thought about it a lot himself.

He rolled his eyes to himself, shaking his head. "I don't know. Yes. No. That's such a complicated question." He laughed, though it wasn't really funny. "I love him. He's my best friend. He’s my family. So I’m gonna be here for him.” And without any other explanation he smiled, holding up the bag he’d claimed, and nodded his head toward the stairs. “Thanks, mom.”

“Sure, honey.” She nodded, watching him head up the stairs.

Dally: I feel like we’re fighting

Dallon stared down at his phone with tears in his eyes, running his thumb along the edge of his case. He had never felt so desperate before. It always felt like he and Brendon were on the same side. Now it was like they were screaming from opposite sides of a mountain, trying to hear each other but not trying hard enough. They felt so polar, ending up not knowing who and what they were. Brendon wanted to find who he was alone for a minute, but what if he could and Dallon couldn’t?

Bumblebee: I do too and I fucking hate it

A tear slipped down Dallon’s cheek and he stared for a second down at the message, stupidly hopeful.

Dally: so...?

Bumblebee: soon

Bumblebee: I need some time

Dally: okay that’s understandable

Dally: I miss you though

Dally: no pressure

Bumblebee: I miss u too

Bumblebee: no pressure

“Your mom told my mom not to let you have too much junk food when you’re here cause she thinks every time you eat anything remotely unhealthy you’re getting bad again, but I won’t tell if you don’t.” Ryan announced suddenly, and Dallon looked up as he closed the door, wiping his cheek.

Dallon rolled his eyes, because that sounded like her. “Yeah, when I’m obviously in a bad place she starts to freak out about things that don’t matter. She’s worried about me having an irregular appetite. She doesn’t comprehend the fact that I’m adverse to everything healthy.”

Ryan smiled, setting the bag of chips on the bed. Dallon texted Brendon to tell him he’d talk later and set his phone aside; he knew that the whole point of taking a break was not talking to each other but he couldn’t help it. He missed him. “That Bren?” Reaching out for the bag, Dallon nodded. “How’s he doing?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t ask. I should have. But I’m sure I’ll talk to him again soon.” He shrugged, and Ryan pulled open the bag for him. “I feel like we’re on opposite ends of the world. I miss him.”

“He misses you too.” Ryan said, and Dallon peeked up to see him smile like he knew what he was talking about. “Seriously. He loves you so much, Dal. And besides, I know what it’s like to miss you. It’s not gonna be long.”

Dallon looked down at his lap, always trying to avoid being reminded of who he had been. “Sorry.”

“No, hey, it’s okay. Water under the bridge.” He waved it off. Dallon looked skeptical, he somehow always was, and Ryan tilted his head at him fondly, smiling in this stupid way that Dallon never understood. "I just came out to my mom." He told him, and Dallon's eyes widened.

"You did?" Ryan nodded, laughing when Dallon smacked his arm. "Right now? What'd she say?!"

"Yeah. She just said she doesn't care. Or she does, but she's not mad, and she wasn't even really shocked, I just..." He shook his head in disbelief. "It's dumb. I was scared about what she'd think of me. What everyone would think of me. It's so dumb, Dal, you know? Cause I say I don't care what people think of me but I do. It's pathetic but I do."

"It's not pathetic." Dallon disagreed, and he would know. He was so damn good at being pathetic. "Everyone cares what people think."

"You don't."

"Of course I do, Ryan." He argued incredulously. Ryan looked taken aback, like he hadn't been expecting that. He should have been. Their entire relationship was about caring what each other thought. "I care more about what you think of me than anybody else in the world."

"I guess." Ryan shrugged, looking at his lap, so Dallon did too. It was like he'd never realized how much Dallon cared. He had to have known, though. All of his choices were about him, at first. "I told her about us, too." He added after a second, and Dallon looked up at him in surprise. "I don't think she was shocked. I think at some point it became obvious. How we felt about each other, I mean. It got hard to hide."

"Maybe we shouldn't try to hide it." Dallon said with hesitance clear in his voice, but he meant it. Hiding things about himself got him nowhere. He learned that more and more as he grew up.

"You're right." Ryan agreed, to his surprise. "I mean, it did mean something. It did shape us." He bumped his knee against Dallon's, looking up at him with this warm smile. "It made me realize that I need you."

"I know. Me too." He confessed, as if it hadn't been known. As if he didn't tell him every day. "Sorry." He added, for no real reason other than thinking he should.

"Stop apologizing, Dallon." Ryan laughed, but it was more like a demand. “C’mon! Just smile and laugh and talk to me about some stupid thing I don’t care about. I hate seeing you so sad.”

Dallon forced a smile and looked down at their hands, staring at his own and wondering how many times it had held a burning cigarette because of his own abhorrence and self-doubt. “It just feels like everything I do is wrong.” He admitted, and all of a sudden he realized that he'd never said it out loud before.

“Dal.” Ryan pulled him into a hug with a sigh because he never really knew what else to do. Apologizing didn’t work and he wasn’t the one who ever needed to apologize, anyway. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“I think it is,” Dallon lamented, staring at the wall behind him apathetically, at the Yellow Submarine poster above his bed. “I thought the hard part was over, Ryan. I thought that everything was gonna be over.”

“It’s never over, Dallon.” He pulled away, gripped his shoulder, tried to get the information into him because there were so many things he didn’t know how else to say. “What happened to Brendon is traumatic and it’s gonna stay with him for a long time. Probably forever. And it’s not an easy thing to get over. There’s no hard part or easy part. I think it’s all just... hard.”

Dallon’s eyes shined wetly as he nodded in understanding. It wasn’t like he didn’t know but he just thought... he thought Brendon was going to need him longer. He thought that their story wasn’t over yet, that he was Brendon’s best friend, his go to, his partner. A break meant the end. It had to. He didn’t know what else it was supposed to mean.

“Did you ever tell your girlfriend?” Dallon asked quietly, meeting his eyes with an honesty he hadn’t in a while. Ryan stared back at him for a second, tracing the rings of blue, and Dallon added, “I mean, when you had sex. Did you tell her?”

Ryan was still for a second, studying him for underlying meaning, and shook his head honestly when he realized there wasn't any. “No, I didn’t.”

“But you slept with her.” Silently, he nodded. “And you've had sex since then?" He nodded again. "And you're not scared to anymore?" He shook his head, eyes searching, and it was hard to believe the rest of the world was okay when he wasn’t despite everything. But Ryan had always been stronger and Dallon didn’t know what he expected. “Brendon and I tried to have sex a week before Christmas and he freaked out. He initiated it, and he promised that I didn’t do anything wrong, but I still feel so gross.” His voice cracked and Ryan sat up on his knees with big eyes, pulling him into another hug. He didn’t know what to say. How to tell him he didn't do anything wrong. “I told myself I would never hurt him again and I keep fucking up.”

“Stop, no you don’t.” Ryan shook his head, cradling Dallon against him. “You don't, you’re just trying to help him figure out how to make things right.”

“I know, but I can’t fucking do that either!” Dallon cried, but quickly wiped his cheeks. “I just wanted to be there for him but he’s pushing me away and it’s like no matter what I do, I’m making a mistake. Letting him try to have sex with me even though I knew he wasn’t ready and hurting myself in front of him and not taking his stupid fucking drink. It’s all just fucking stupid, Ryan, because I’m trying to be a better person, and I’m trying to be a good boyfriend but I keep disappointing him like I disappointed my mom and you and everyone else that had faith in me.”

“You aren’t disappointing him, and you never disappointed me. Stop saying that because it’s not true. I hate that you think that.” Ryan brushed his fingers through his hair as he slumped over against his chest. “It’s not. We were both at fault. Don’t dwell on ghosts. It doesn’t do you any good.” He never seemed to understand that that was what Dallon did. “C’mon. Brendon just needs to be alone for a minute. It has nothing to do with you.”

“It has everything to do with me.”

“It has everything to do with him being assaulted, Dallon.” Ryan retorted, and Dallon folded his arms, pouting at the wall when Ryan hung an arm over his shoulder protectively. Ryan was right. It had nothing to do with him. He just wished he knew what to do to make it better.

Ryan rubbed his arm aimlessly and tears slipped down Dallon’s cheeks, leaving traces of dumb, blind curiosity because he was still trying to figure it out. Why men felt entitled to take what they wanted. How no wasn’t an answer. How he let himself act that way once upon a time before he knew better, or at least prayed he did, because it was easy to think he’d changed but then again he was here, and not with his boyfriend for a reason. Maybe he really was just like everybody else, breaking hearts for the fun of it.

Dallon sniffled suddenly, turning to look up at him with unfallen tears in his eyes. “Did you ever tell her you made out with a guy?”

Ryan smiled despite everything, and only rolled his eyes when he saw the stupid presumptuous look on his face. “No, I didn’t tell her that.”

Dallon tsked, smacking at his hand playfully and turning back around to look at the wall, and he couldn’t be like everyone else. He couldn’t be, because if you were bad you wouldn’t worry so much about being bad. “You shoulda. Experience is hot.”

“Please, it was barely experience. You were a bad kisser.”

Dallon gasped, sitting up and shoving his shoulder. “Hey!” He exclaimed in an accusatory tone, making Ryan laugh and lean back, away from his wrath. “I am not. That’s not what my boyfriend says.”

“Uh-huh.” Ryan smiled playfully and shoved him back, making Dallon smile too as he fell on his back and sighed up at the ceiling. Ryan nudged him in the side with his socked foot, just playing around, and added quietly, “I’m kidding, you know.”

“I know.” Dallon said, and when Ryan quirked an eyebrow Dallon wiggled his own. “Hey, despite Brendon’s inexperience, I trust him. Especially when his beliefs are in my favor.”

“Ha.” Ryan fell on the mattress beside him with a grunt, getting him in the side with his elbow. “He asked about that, too. Us.” He added as a second thought, and Dallon dipped his head to look at him, his eyes narrowing as he tried to imagine why Brendon would ask Ryan all the questions but not him. “He’s really curious, Dal. And he worries about things he doesn’t know.”

“And I’ll tell him one day.” Dallon promised. He stretched his arms and rested them on his stomach as he watched the ceiling, though it was different than Brendon’s and there was no dinosaur holding a cake, just random squiggles, a different color, but not any less familiar. There was a lot Brendon didn’t know, and a lot he didn’t have to. “I just don’t know how.”

“A conversation would be a good place to start.” Ryan suggested, and Dallon looked at him again, never knowing how to take his advice because it was like it was too good. Dallon was so used to being fucked up; he didn’t know what he would do if something miraculously fixed him. “You’re serious about him, right?” Wordlessly, Dallon nodded. “So eventually you’re gonna have to tell him everything. When you know someone for a long time they tend to figure everything out.”

“I’m just worried of what he’s gonna think of me.” Dallon admitted quietly, fixating his gaze on the ceiling again and twisting the ring on his finger aimlessly. “I mean, trying to kill myself and self-harming and everything is one thing but my relationships are another. I mean, there was no respect between me and my mother, and you and I were hardly friends. I knew you didn’t like me and I knew you didn’t want anything to happen and I kept kissing you anyway because I thought I could change your mind. And I didn’t care about what you wanted and I was mean to you for years, Ryan. He already knows a lot but what the hell am I supposed to say? I’m a horrible person and a horrible son and a horrible friend and I force people to make out with me because my fragile ego can’t handle rejection? How can you be in a relationship with a person who’s that bad at relationships?”

“Hey, stop.” Ryan turned onto his side and pushed at his shoulder, settling down only when Dallon turned on his side too, visibly reluctant. He still felt at fault every time he looked at him. “You didn’t force me to do anything. I wanted to. I would have stopped you the first time if I didn’t. I initiated it most of the time, anyway.” He moved his head down against the mattress, and Dallon supposed dealing with him was pretty tiring. “I wanted us to work. It just didn’t. That isn’t your fault.”

“I know, I just...” He blinked downward, trying not to think too hard about it. “I feel like I did something wrong. I always do.”

“You did nothing wrong. You weren’t that bad of a kisser.” He teased. Dallon forced a smile at him, guilty and anxious but grateful that they still talked after all that. He wouldn’t still talk to anyone if they had been so cruel to him. “Hey, c’mon. You know it wasn’t about you. I didn’t know if I even liked guys. I didn’t want to use you. And if I had known, then maybe things would be different.”

“I know.” Dallon admitted, and he did, but what ifs never flattered anybody. “But I swear to God, if Brendon dumps me, you and I are getting married and there’s nothing you can do about it.” He pointed his finger in Ryan’s face and Ryan smiled, but reached out his pinky to link with Dallon’s and leaned in to rest his nose against them.

“Deal.” He agreed, only if it meant Dallon living to see it. “But for the record, Brendon’s not gonna dump you. If you heard what he was saying about you, Dal, you would be surprised. Genuinely. That boy loves you so much.”

“And I love him too, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still scared. I’m not good at telling people things about me. Not when they’re all bad. I’m a shitty boyfriend. I suck at everything I do.”

“You’re not the same person as you were before, Dallon. That’s really important.” He reminded him, and Dallon supposed he was right, a year and a half ago he was a completely different person. But everyone said that about themselves and in the end, how true was it? He still made mistakes. He was still trying to find his answers in a burnt-out cigarette. “Brendon’s curious. You have a lot of secrets. You’re gonna clash.”

“I know. I just don’t wanna disappoint him.”

Ryan frowned, and that was the thing. Everyone was just avoiding disappointment but never taking risks. “What’ll disappoint him the most is not telling him what he needs to hear.”

“Were you, like, born eighty?” Dallon asked, he was just always so fucking insightful, and Ryan laughed, pushing himself to sit up and grabbing at the bag of chips.

“I had a lot of reasons to grow up.” He shrugged. They didn’t talk much about Ryan’s past because digging up skeletons just left a mess and sometimes Dallon realized all over again why that was.

“Me too. I just never did.” Dallon sat up too, criss-crossing his legs and watching him reach into the bag. And maybe skeletons weren’t always bad, maybe they were just a reminder of the past, but a reminder of mistakes that shouldn’t have to be made again. Or lessons learned. Reasons to believe things were better now. “Hey, Ryan?” He peeped, and Ryan glanced up at him. “You told Brendon what happened to you?”

Ryan stared at him for a second, not expecting him to ask because that topic was dangerous. Ryan tried to suppress it until it was locked away for good, though things were never that simple. You can’t train your mind when it has its own agenda. Ryan nodded softly, and Dallon tried hard not to picture Brendon’s face when he said it. “He needed to know that he wasn’t alone.”

Dallon sniffled again, he didn’t understand how somebody like this could ever be hurt, and leaned in to pull him into a hug. “You’re a good person.” He whispered honestly, the words not unspoken but truthful all the same. Ryan nodded as if to say it was nothing, holding him close, and Dallon wondered how people so different could be so imperative to one another.

Dallon pulled away and wiped at his cheeks, flushed from crying and pale. And Ryan stared back at him, seeing this flicker of innocence in his eye, like he used to see way back when. And it may not have been real, all of his innocence was gone now, Dallon’s, disappeared with his old self back in the desert before he accepted who he was now. But sometimes. Sometimes it was there.

“I have a stupid request.” Dallon said calculatedly, feeling the words and already regretting them because he’d been trying not to fuck up for a while but now he felt like maybe it was okay. “I know you don’t like to drink and I don’t either anymore but like, can we do it? Just tonight? Cause I don’t wanna hurt myself and I feel like maybe I can be safe here with you and-“

“Drinking your feelings is hurting yourself, Dal.” Ryan cut him off, shocked that Dallon would even ask. He wouldn’t even take a sip of beer at a party with all of his friends. He hadn’t drank in over a year. Ryan thought his wanting to blur out his feelings that way had been a phase of teenage angst when he was sixteen. “It’s what my dad did. It’s what killed yours.”

Dallon swallowed thickly, knew the reasoning but didn’t care because he was just so tired of thinking and he wanted to be numb. “Once. Just right now.” Dallon put out his pinky again and Ryan stared at it, disbelieving, because Dallon never got like this. Not unless he was trying to shut off. “I used to drink absinthe alone when my dad died. I’m gonna be okay. Sometimes I just use it like a burn.”

“That’s not a good thing.”

“It’s a better thing. It’s not like I’d ever be an alcoholic. I hate the taste of the shit.” He said and Ryan tried to laugh, but it died in his throat.

Ryan stared at him, eyes wary, and he’d seen Dallon’s arm enough times to know that anything was better. He knew well enough that he’d find another way to hurt himself if not this. “Okay, fine, but just for the record, you’re forcing me to become an enabler. I don’t want this. And I’m not drinking either, I’m watching you to make sure you don’t die or some shit. God. Don’t drink too much.” He got up and Dallon sat up against the wall when Ryan left the room to steal a bottle from the shelf in the finished basement, where he, Dallon, and Josh used to play video games after Ryan’s parents went to bed. Where he spent time before he felt too much like a stranger to return.

Dallon sniffled, fisting his nose and playing idly with the ring until Ryan returned. He’d never really gotten drunk, had some wine at his father’s wake and snuck sips of absinthe that summer because it didn’t matter, anyway, because he was going to be dead soon. But all of a sudden it just felt like he needed to do something or he’d drive himself crazy, and Ryan would kill him if he burned himself here, and he would be safe, and he wasn’t that stupid, and he just... wanted to be numb. He needed to be numb.

He reached out for the bottle and Ryan swatted his hand away, going to slip it under his bed. “Hey. After dinner. Don’t be that guy that drinks in the middle of the day.” He put it on his desk and pulled Dallon close as he sat down against the wall too, resting a head on his shoulder. He didn't want him to do it, and he didn’t want to tell him no, but Dallon was always out of control and once in a while it was good to let him take it back, trying to hold onto what he’d lost. So Ryan slid a hand into Dallon’s, and they sat quietly with their eyes shut and almost fell asleep until Ryan’s mother called them down for dinner.

Later into the night when it got dark and Ryan’s mom went up for bed, Dallon got up in the middle of a conversation to grab the bottle like it were innate. And Ryan watched dangerously as he twisted the top off and took a sip, it had been a while since he’d had anything to drink and it wasn’t as relieving as he remembered but just enough to leave the cap on the side table when he went to sit back down.

“This is a stupid idea,” Ryan told him.

“Everything I do is a stupid idea.” He retorted, and Ryan let it go because with Dallon that was always easier.

“Okay.” He sighed, patting Dallon’s knee with a sigh.

Dallon listened to him talk as he took sips from the bottle, telling him about this boy in his class that he kind of maybe liked. And if it were a few years prior Dallon would be jealous, and angry, and upset, but now he just nodded, knew the guy’s name and recognized him from around, playing with the rim of the bottle aimlessly. Wondering why he didn’t do this more often because he felt all fuzzy inside, and everything was starting to blur.

Ryan poked at his thigh aimlessly with his socked foot, watching Dallon tap his fingers against the bottle. So what he and Brendon were taking a break? It didn’t mean they were gonna break up. It didn’t mean they were over. He and Brendon were perfect. Life changing.

“Have you ever gotten drunk?” Dallon took a break to play with the bottle instead, pushing it around in between his thighs. Ryan shook his head and Dallon squinted at him. “For real?”

“I’m scared to. I feel like I’ll get addicted like my dad, and I’ll just be fucked, you know? I don’t wanna ruin my life for a few hours of feeling okay.” He played with his fingers under Dallon’s gaze and the boy snorted, that was ridiculous, but maybe it wasn’t.

“You’re such a cautionary tale, Ryan.” Dallon tilted his head back against the wall with a sigh. And Ryan stared back at him, sometimes seeing the Dallon he was scared of in the Dallon he loved, but Dallon smiled and took a swig of the drink again. “I like that you have your priorities straight. We could all really learn from you.”

“But you’re not gonna, huh?” Ryan teased, though honesty was under the sugarcoating and Dallon didn’t bother arguing because he never read the cautionary tales. He just read fairytales, like his Brendon had once upon a time. He just liked those better.

“When do I ever learn?” He asked, and Ryan didn’t answer because he didn’t have one. “Hey, tell me about Dan. Let’s chat. Like we used before I wanted you in my bed. I used to think that Josh and I were the only ones who could talk about boys. Cause you hated me for liking you so I didn’t really wanna talk to you.”

Ryan sighed. Dallon and Josh had always found solace in it, once upon a time: talking about things they could never talk about with Ryan, about the cute boy in Dallon’s English class, the one he bumped into everywhere, how Dallon drew him on his napkin with a pen he found in his jacket pocket one day when they went out to lunch. That was something he couldn’t share with Ryan until now. “I never hated you, Dallon.”

Dallon tsked, waving a hand at him like it didn’t matter anyway. “Details details. Whatever whatever. Tell me about this boy.”

Ryan scoffed but smiled anyway, folding his arms over his chest and resting his feet in Dallon’s lap. “I don’t know exactly how to gossip about my love life, Dal.”

“You don’t have a love life.” Dallon argued.

“Fuck you. You’re right, but fuck you.” Ryan wedged his foot into Dallon’s stomach and Dallon pushed it away, smiling. “I don't know. I was kind of, like... curious. With you. And I didn’t know what it meant. But I think I just... like people. Cause I know I still like girls. And... I kind of wanted you in my bed too. As a friend. A confused friend.”

“Right, of course.” Dallon nodded, taking a sip of the alcohol and grimacing at the taste. “You liked kissing me.”

“Uh-huh. And, like. I don't know. It wasn’t you, Dal, I would be lucky to be with you. Anyone would. Brendon is. But it felt wrong. Being friends for years and then trying to change it into something... it didn’t feel right. But I do think that I like him. Which is stupid, because I don’t even know him. We’ve talked a few times, but that doesn’t mean anything, you know?”

“Uh-huh. Me and Bren talked once in a blue moon before we became friends. Takes time.” He downed the drink for a second and if he got alcohol poisoning, Ryan swore he was gonna kill him. He set it on Ryan’s side table, wiping the back of his mouth with his hand, and fell back on the mattress with a sigh. So Ryan laid beside him, and Dallon tilted his head against his shoulder.

“Tell me about Brendon.” Ryan said quietly, playing with Dallon’s hand as he stared at the ceiling. Dallon let him, he didn’t feel in control of his own body anyway, and Ryan twisted at his ring, wondered what Dallon’s father would say if he saw his son doing this.

Dallon made a face like he didn’t understand. “You know Brendon.”

Ryan tried not to laugh at the slurring of his speech because Dallon had never been drunk before, and maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. “But talking about him makes you happy. So talk about him.” Ryan insisted, just trying to get him to smile.

Dallon grinned stupidly because he was right, even inebriated Dallon’s head was spinning because he just loved Brendon, loved talking about him, thinking about him, driving himself crazy over him but in the best, sweetest way. And he knew this was dumb, it was so dumb, but he was a teenager and he let himself make mistakes. He let himself do things he never did because he was too scared to back then.

“Yeah. You’re right. He makes me so happy.” He sighed, and it turned into a smile because after talking about how miserable he’d been it was nice to have that good thought. “Like, stupid happy, too. Not even normal happy. You know the difference?” He asked, but didn’t let him answer because he just kept rambling at the ceiling. “Like, being stupid happy means that you can’t think straight and you can’t stop smiling and you feel like everything’s okay. And even when everything isn’t okay he still makes me think it is. That’s the best part of him.”

Ryan tilted his head to watch Dallon smile in this way he never really saw him smile before, like this entire mindset was one big secret, like it was something he held onto alone in the dark at night because it was just so dear to him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Cause he’s just like that. Makes things feel okay. And I love it. And he does this thing with his right eye, when he smiles, it gets squinty. Like this.” He squinted his eye like Brendon’s did and Ryan laughed, Dallon was just silly, and that was the point, to make him feel okay for a night, to forget that things weren’t okay. “Like that. I love his smile. He looks like a toddler when he smiles. And his laugh is like a child’s and he sneezes like a kitten and it’s just... he’s cute. He’s so cute. I don’t even know. He’s cute even when he’s mad, and when he’s not even doing anything, and when he gives head— he can’t give head. He’s so bad at it. It’s funny. It’s cute.” He giggled to himself, rambling aimlessly and not even really knowing what he was saying. “But I love him anyway. You ever been in love? Like, really, really in love?”

The question shocked Ryan and he stared back at Dallon for a second, eyebrows furrowed in wonder. “No, I don’t think so. Not like this.”

“You gotta. It’s nice. Even when we aren’t talking. I can’t wait to see him again.” He sighed dreamily again, lost somehow and forgetting that the point of this break was to talk less, be less reliant on each other. “I get so excited to see him. I can’t tell if that’s dumb or not. But he makes me happy. I like being happy. I like that he feels like my best friend but in a different way than you are.”

“I think it’s good that you have someone like him.” Ryan figured, and Dallon was lucky in that regard. “Someone who makes you excited about life. You really need that, Dallon.”

“Yeah, I do.” Dallon agreed, and he guessed he really did. He twisted his ring off of his finger and pushed it back on, fumbling with his hands and almost dropping it because he was getting clumsier and dizzier, but in a nice way. In this way that made him think less about the way everything actually was.

“So, Brendon doesn’t give good head?” Ryan asked suddenly. Dallon shook his head, not taken aback like he would have been if he were sober. “He looks like he has the mouth for it.”

“You would think.” Dallon agreed, arching his back in a stretch and thinking about the summer because it was no secret, they both missed it endlessly. “I love his mouth. He has the nicest mouth. But we’ve only done stuff a few times. It’s not like he’s had any practice. He will, I’m sure, if this break thing isn’t permanent.”

“Dal, I don’t need to hear about your sex life.” Ryan complained and Dallon giggled anyway, turning onto his side and making this face because he didn’t get how anybody wouldn’t want to hear it. He and Brendon were so beautiful. He should write a book about them. “Really?” He added, and that was more like it. “Only a few times? You’ve been together a year.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t just start fucking right off the bat and we only really had a couple of months. We’ve basically been in turmoil since like, September.” He flopped onto his back again.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Ryan agreed, he forgot that Dallon had morals deep down somewhere, and Dallon huffed out in distress because he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about it. That was what the alcohol was for. “What happened in September? I thought it was October, when all the bad shit happened.”

“Yeah, we fought a lot in October but like... you could tell something was wrong. We weren’t in sync. And people were giving him shit and I wasn’t doing well cause of my family and I don't know.” He rested his wrist on his forehead and closed his eyes. “It felt like— like summer was so good, it just made me realize that happiness is always so temporary. Not with Brendon, you know, but in life. Cause eventually it’s not summer anymore and then everything sucks again.”

“I get it. You’re stuck in this mindset that things are okay and then you’re not in this bubble anymore.”

“Exactly. It was like going back to who I really was. I hate who I really am.” He muttered, and went ahead at glaring at the ceiling for a minute because it wasn’t fair. Nothing ever turned out fair. He didn’t know why he got such a raw deal. He turned to look at Ryan again and Ryan looked back, watching Dallon calculate something in his head and form words that felt untrained. “Do you wanna hear a secret?” He asked in a whisper, staring into hazel eyes and squinting, almost, to try and see the answer. Ryan nodded carefully, and Dallon swallowed, feeling it in his body when he said, “I’m really sad, Ryan.”

Ryan looked at him, amazed at how different and talkative he was when he wasn’t thinking straight. He could barely get a word of emotion out of Dallon when he was sober. “Two seconds ago you were talking about how happy you were.”

“No. I mean, I’m happy with Brendon. In a relationship sense. I’m happy within my relationship. But even then, falling in love doesn’t fix your mental illness or whatever. I thought it would, for a really long time. I thought that having a boyfriend would be like, the thing. The thing that fixed all my problems. Like I would be like, I’m sad, and then I would be like, wait, I have a boyfriend, he’ll make me less sad. When I put it that way it sounds so idiotic. I sound dumb for ever even believing in that. I don’t even understand that. How is a boyfriend gonna make that go away? It’s not like someone else can actually validate you. That’s not how it works. And I don't know. Maybe for some people. People who don’t actually really have problems. People who just think that they do. Cause a relationship doesn’t fix your problems. Cause I love Brendon, but at the end of the day I still wanna die. I still wanna kill myself. And maybe I’m not a good boyfriend cause of it. And maybe I’m not burning myself right now but everyone says that I do stuff I know will hurt me. Like this. And it makes sense. It does. Because I’m happy with Bren and he feels like this escape sometimes but I’m miserable every other second of my life. I’m sick of that. Being miserable. I just wanna learn how to stop being miserable.” He looked at Ryan with red in his eyes, blood vessels shot from crying and making him look insane. “Am I as bad as Shane?”

Ryan stared back at him in disbelief, wondering how that was the conclusion, and sat up because the thought scared him. “The fact that you asked that at all means you’re not, Dallon, and I can’t believe you would even say that.”

“But I’m a horrible person.” He refuted, sitting up too, and Ryan guessed that when you bottled up emotions every day this was how they came out. “I’m a horrible boyfriend. I’ve hurt everyone who’s ever loved me, and I don’t care about other people’s feelings, and I just... I’m not okay, Ryan. I’m so fucked up. I don’t deserve Brendon Urie. I don’t deserve you either. I was such a shitty friend. Like, for years. You never should have stayed friends with me. Why did you? How don’t you resent me? Or do you? Cause this has never made sense to me.”

“Dallon, stop.” Ryan pleaded. “I don’t resent you. I’m not mad at you. I was never mad at you. Things were just really complicated.”

“You called me a pretentious cunt!” He cried, and Ryan laughed through tears, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder and then pulling him into a hug. “That was mean, Ryan!”

“And you called me a confused little boy! Things aren’t like that anymore. I swear.” He promised, squeezing Dallon and waiting for him to squeeze back before he smiled. And it was a smile Dallon typically knew how to read, a smile that said he was glad they were still friends after everything, a smile that wasn’t scared like it used to be. Dallon knew that smile when he was sober and even when he wasn’t. “I don’t even know how to explain it to you. I just love you. And we’ve been through a lot together. Like, every aspect of our lives, we’ve been through together. And I don’t even— I couldn’t imagine us not being friends. It’s worth sticking it out, sometimes. Even if it takes a little while. You’re worth it to me. I know you don’t think so but it’s true.”

“I feel the same way.” Dallon muttered, and pulled away to look him in the eye. “That it’s worth it.”

“Cause there’s no way we have it together all the time. We’ve both earned the right to fall apart once in a while.”

“I feel like I’m falling apart every day and you’re picking up all the pieces. I never wanted it to be that way.” He sniffled, playing with his hands because he was never good at apologies. But Ryan understood, because when he was younger the roles were reversed. Dallon was the one taking care of him, being the shoulder to cry on, bandaging up his wounds. Dallon tended to forget about those few years.

“I’m gonna go get you water, Dal.” Ryan said quietly instead, and Dallon nodded, that was probably a good idea, as he moved back to lean against the wall and hold his hand over his forehead. He watched Ryan get up and head toward the door quietly so not to wake anybody.

And as Ryan closed the bathroom door behind himself, his hands started to tremble and he went to lean against the sink. He knew Dallon. He knew Dallon, so why did it scare him every time he heard him say he wanted to die?

He stared at himself in the mirror, holding a hand over his mouth, and muffled a sob as he squeezed his eyes shut because he didn’t know what to do.

Dally: im fuckjnf shitfacrd rn

Dally: dont hate me thi

Bumblebee: I’m more amused than resentful

Bumblebee: are u okay?

Dally: yeah m fjne

Dally: drunk

Bumblebee: I see that

Bumblebee: please don’t tell me ur drinking alone

Dally: no im w ryan

Bumblebee: can I talk to him please

“Hey.” Dallon turned to look at him, having laid back down on the mattress, as Ryan pushed the door shut behind him. He shoved his phone into Ryan’s face as the boy sat down again and Ryan recoiled, disgruntled, but accepted it nonetheless and exchanged it for a cup of water that Dallon tried to balance. “Bren wants to talk to you.”

“Okay. I’m just gonna, y’know, talk to him from my phone, then. Stop drunk texting your boyfriend. Here, I got you water. Go to sleep.” He put a hand on the top of Dallon’s head and Dallon hummed, leaning down against his thigh and trying expertly to take a long sip of the water.

Ryan: hey

Brendon: why did u get my boyfriend drunk

Ryan: he asked me if he could drink so I said no and he guilted me but I’m not drinking and I’m making him sleep it off and I kind of want to see dal hungover anyway

Brendon: is this my fault

Ryan: no brendon it’s him being him

Ryan: sometimes he’s gonna be in a bad place and he’s gonna act out and when he does he has to just do what he needs to do

Brendon: does he do this a lot

Ryan: he’s never gotten drunk but he does do stuff that he shouldn’t do. don’t worry about him he’s gonna be fine

Brendon: take care of him

Ryan: pinky promise

“Hey,” Dallon took his free hand suddenly and swung it around in the air like a child trying to play. Ryan looked up at him, locked his phone, and Dallon added a needy, “hey, Ryan.”

“Uh-huh?” Ryan humored him, let him do what he wanted because he was having a bad night.

Dallon looked up at him, eyes glistening with innocence if he didn’t know any better, like the old him, the happier him. And Ryan didn’t believe that Dallon existed anymore, but maybe somewhere he did. “Are you happy?” He asked quietly, like a yes would make it better.

“I don’t know, Dal.” Ryan dropped a hand to card through his hair, and he’d never actually thought about that. Being happy. “I don’t know how to measure happiness. I don’t know if you just weigh the good and bad and compare it. I think it’s a lot more nuanced than that.”

“Huh. How about...” Dallon turned over a little to search for his hand to play with again. “If you were to die tonight, would you be satisfied with the life you lived?”

Ryan snorted. “No.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Dallon pouted against his leg and curled up like a cat as he looped an arm around his waist. “I never expected to be. It’s a little sad, but like, even when I was a kid. I didn’t see myself being happy in the future. I think there are moments where we’re happy, but we’re never, like, happy. Know what I mean?”

“Mhm.” Ryan placed a hand on the top of his head gently and watched him with sad eyes because even when he was a kid he was all too aware. That was the worst part. Children shouldn’t know how cruel the world could be. “I think people are crazy for trying to chase happiness all the time. You can’t expect to find something like that. You have to like, feel it. Appreciate it.”

“You’re right!” Dallon exclaimed, and Ryan tried to smile because it was sad, in a way. “God. You’re like, always right. That’s so crazy. You’re so smart.” He poked him in the stomach. “Smarty pants. Look at you.”

“Look at me.” Ryan mimicked in a whisper, but this was all just a bandaid. This wasn’t Dallon. “Hey, Dal?” He added, touching his face carefully with his fingertips like he couldn’t believe he was still here after everything. “I love you, you know.”

“I love you too. And I don’t say that to just anyone.” He reached up to touch his face too. Ryan sighed, because he’d seen every way Dallon could be and this was by far the worst, trying to cover up his feelings and not managing to do it well. Being miserable and not knowing how to say it.

“You’re a weird drunk.” He pointed out, and Dallon smiled, tilting his head back. “Seriously. You get happy and then really, really emotional. And you talk a lot. I think this is more you’ve talked to me in the past three years.”

“Stop.” Dallon laughed, but he was probably right, though junior year they’d had a lot of time to make up for everything. “I like talking to you when I’m drunk. Cause you open up. Like, you’re actually real with me. You say things cause you think I won’t remember them tomorrow. Cause you tiptoe, Ryan.”

“I do not tiptoe! And you won’t remember tomorrow.”

“You’re probably right.” He agreed with a lazy nod, feeling sleepier now that he was laying down. “But yeah you do. You tiptoe. You’re afraid cause I used to get mad at you for everything you said. And even though I’m not like that anymore you still worry. I have you down, Ryan, and you don’t even know it.” He reached up to poke at his cheek childishly. “You worry about me.”

“Within reason.” Ryan didn't mean for the words to come out so quiet though they did. Dallon closed his eyes, didn’t protest, and only made a quiet noise when Ryan started carding fingers through his hair. “Are you feeling okay?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Mm-mm.”

“Are you feeling like you’re gonna puke?”

“Yeah.” Dallon sat up suddenly like he’d just realized it himself. “Yeah, I’m gonna puke.” He warned, getting up uneasily, like a baby deer learning to walk. And Ryan chased him to the bathroom, made sure he didn’t leave a mess anywhere because his mother was going to kill him, and locked the bathroom door behind them.

Dallon kneeled down in front of the toilet and Ryan grimaced, running the water so no one would hear, and went to get a washcloth to wet because it wasn’t his first time seeing someone drink a little too much. Dallon didn’t even really know why he wanted to; he just knew that he didn’t want to have to think straight.

“Do you... need anything?” Ryan asked with a hiss as he crouched down in front of him hesitantly and reached out to brush a hand through his bangs.

“I’m good. I know how to puke. I’ve done it quite a few times.” Dallon admitted in passing, and Ryan stared at him, shocked, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, tears of disbelief in his eyes.

“No.” Dallon admitted, and he didn’t know how many times he’d said it out loud but it was the truth. He wasn’t okay. He was sick of pretending to be. “No, Ryan. I’m not. I hate myself. I hate everything about myself. I’m disgusting and a horrible person and I don’t see how anybody could ever really love me. And sometimes I wish it was me. In the car. Not my dad. Cause he was a good person. He’s not the kind of person who should have been killed. He would be so fucking disappointed in me.”

Ryan knelt down beside him on the floor carefully; he’d seen him like this before. It was always the same. “No, Dal, come on.”

“It’s true! It’s true. I’m a disappointment. I make stupid decisions.” He pointed out, and maybe he did, but maybe that didn’t matter so much. Everyone made stupid decisions. What mattered was who it affected. “And I feel like... like I just hurt people. Maybe that’s my thing. Maybe I hurt people because that’s all I really know how to do. And sometimes I— I wonder if everything is my fault. Sometimes I wonder if I killed him.”

Ryan looked at him, holding the washcloth against his forehead as he leaned back against the bathtub. “What? Who?”

“My dad.”

He shook his head, and all of a sudden Dallon felt like a ghost, too. “Dallon, that’s ridiculous. That couldn’t have possibly been your fault.”

“He died like, a month and a half after I came out, Ryan.” He whispered, and tears slipped down his cheeks but he was tired of trying to keep it all in. “And I don’t like thinking about it, but what if... what if it was my fault? What if everything is my fault?”

Ryan shook his head in distress again, not knowing what else to do. “You can’t get a God complex over this kind of stuff, Dal.”

“No, I know, but what if...” He paused, and it made so much sense when he thought about it, even thinking straight, because sin was punishable, sin got you sent to hell, and what if this was hell? What if He designed it to make you feel like you were suffering above ground? It was a mind game. They were all just mind games. “What if it was me? What if it’s all fate? And maybe all of this— it’s just revenge. Maybe there really is something we don’t know. Like maybe God does hate us. Because why else do we keep getting it so bad? I mean, Brendon’s entire childhood he was horrified of everything. And then he grows up and gets assaulted and is depressed and probably has PTSD, not that I’m qualified to diagnose. And you too. Everything that happened to you. And me, and my dad dying, and— what if we really are being punished?”

“Dallon, it’s one a.m., stop getting so emotional.” Ryan said, but there was begging in his tone. “You can’t do this to yourself.”

“I can’t help it, Ryan. I am so scared. All the time.” He admitted in a whisper. He reached up to touch at the cold washcloth, uncomfortable on his skin, and set it aside on the tiled floor because it wouldn’t fix anything, anyway. “I’m just... I’m worried about Brendon, and myself, and I feel like after all this time I shouldn’t be this fucked up, you know? I shouldn’t be this sad all the time. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You have a mental illness, Dallon. There’s nothing wrong with you.” Ryan insisted, and he didn’t think that there was anything more than that. He was sick and traumatized and didn’t know how to handle that sometimes. “And I wanna help or say the right thing but I don’t know how to. And I think you might need to go to therapy or talk to someone, like, your counselor, or— I don’t know. But I’m worried about you, and I want you to get better.”

“I don’t wanna tell a stranger my problems.” Dallon pulled his knees to his chest and leaned forward to rest his chin on them. “It never helped. It just made me angrier.”

“It made you think.” Ryan corrected, and Dallon stared at him for a minute, a long minute, thinking about it. Because he’d tried it a few times, hated it all of them, swore he’d never go back.

“Would you hate me if I didn’t go?” He asked calculatedly, his voice hoarse and scratchy from the alcohol and the tears.

Ryan’s eyebrows shot up and he shook his head, shocked he’d even ask. “What? No, I-“

“Ryan, tell me you’d hate me if I didn’t go.” Dallon said, and they stared at each other for a minute before Ryan realized. He almost smiled, and Dallon tried to, because he needed a reason. He just needed a reason.

“I would hate you, Dallon.” Ryan whispered, shaking his head, but he was smiling when he said it. And Dallon reached up to wipe tears from his cheeks as he took in a shuddering breath.

“Then I’ll talk to my mom, okay?” He said through tears.

He reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder. “Okay. Thank you, Dal. For trying.”

“You’re welcome,” Dallon whispered as he pulled him into a hug, not thanking him too but hoping it got across. He leaned his head against his shoulder, and added, “remind me of this when I’m sober.”

“I will.” Ryan laughed, a real laugh, and Dallon curled up against him. He closed his eyes, suddenly the bathroom light was too bright, and Ryan added, “I’ll kill you if you puke on me.”

“Fuck.” Dallon laughed, and covered his face with a hand in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. You didn’t ask to babysit me.”

“I don’t mind.” Ryan pulled back to sit against the bathtub and bumped his knee against Dallon's. "The first time I had sex after I was raped I freaked the fuck out, you know." He admitted, and Dallon turned to look at him. "It was the summer going into sophomore year. When I was with Elizabeth. I never told her that I was raped and I was scared of what she would think of me so I didn't want to make a big deal out of it. We were dating a couple of months, and we talked about it. She said she was a virgin and I said I was too, even though that was a lie. I know virginity is made up and rape doesn't count but it did to me. It ruined me. And it wasn't that we were in love with each other, at least not yet, but it was her wanting to get it over with and me complying because I wanted to make myself okay."

"Like Brendon."

"Yeah. Like Brendon. The only difference is that I tried years after it happened and he tried weeks. But I guess either way, it's still scary. So I had sex with her. And that night when she went home, I had a panic attack about it. I'd never really had a panic attack so I didn't know what it was. I just knew that I felt trapped in my body. I still never told her. I never wanted her to find out. I just kind of dealt with it on my own. I got used to having sex after that. It got less scary as we did it more often. We started having real feelings for each other so it didn't feel as strange."

"Did you ever feel that way with me? Whenever we... did anything?" Dallon asked with hesitance clear in his voice, he didn't know whether or not he wanted to know the answer.

"No." Ryan played with his hands so he didn't have to see the look in his eyes. "I never did. I was always comfortable with you. I don't know if that's what it was, comfort, and maybe if we had gone further then I would have freaked out, but you were just my best friend. Not someone I thought could hurt me." He tilted his head back, eyes tired, and admitted, "I was scared for a long time, Dallon. And I still let it get to me sometimes. But in time it'll hurt less."

"Yeah, I guess it will." He looked at his knees, his stomach churning. This was all such a bad idea. He didn't know what he was thinking. "Summer after sophomore year?" He asked as a second thought, solemn in this way Ryan recognized as regret. He should have been there. He just wasn't.

"Yeah." Ryan turned his body to face Dallon. "I really wanted to talk to you about it. I was just scared to."

"I would have been upset, I bet." He didn't meet his eyes because when he did, he just saw his regret. How much time he wasted hating somebody who never deserved to be hated. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. We all make mistakes. You're not the worst thing you've ever done." He pulled away to sit back on his heels and help him up, not bothering to wait for a response. “C’mon. Come lay down. You should sleep this off.”

Dallon grunted as he let him pull him up, almost losing his balance but hooking an arm around his shoulder and letting him guide him to his room. Ryan closed the door behind them and Dallon all but fell onto his bed, burying his face in a pillow and making a noise of distress because he knew this was going to end up another bad decision. Ryan smiled sadly after him, his best friend, and shut off the lights before he crawled in to lay beside him silently. He didn’t know what to say.

“Are you okay, Dallon?” Ryan asked quietly, and touched his arm with gentle care because he was afraid of the response. “Like... you’re not gonna try to kill yourself again, right?”

“I’m trying so fucking hard.” Dallon whispered, shaking his head softly against the pillow, and the softness in Ryan's eyes said that wasn't what he wanted to hear. “I’m trying. And sometimes it’s easy, living, sometimes I wake up and I’m glad I’m alive and then I remember. I have depression. I’m constantly guilty. It’s so hard to want to live when you remember everything weighing you down.”

“Maybe, but I also know it’s way easier to live when you forgive yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong. No matter what you think.” He rubbed his arm and down, watching Dallon’s teary eyes in the dark. “Please forgive yourself.”

“I don’t know how.” He whispered through the tears caught in his throat, and the words stung his tongue because he hadn’t realized it before. He wanted to get better but he didn’t know how. You couldn't be okay if you never learned how to be.

Ryan stared back at him, and he knew he couldn’t ask so much of him. Dallon didn’t change for anyone but himself. The problem was that he didn’t think he deserved to change for himself. It was hard to try to help somebody so stubborn but Dallon had always been that way. Ryan had been trying to figure it out for years. “Why did you get drunk, Dallon?” He asked instead, never moving his hand from Dallon’s arm.

“Because I hate being in control of my own body, Ryan." He cried in exasperation. "I hate my body. I hate it. And everything it does to me, and everything that happens to me because of it, and every day I think, I wish I wasn’t me. I wish I didn’t have to wake up and be me.”

Ryan’s eyes softened and he tucked hair behind his ear as he studied Dallon’s face, dark circles under his eyes, wondering if he had gotten any sleep lately. “Dallon, come on, that’s ridiculous.” He tried, but knew where he stood.

“I disgust myself.” He whispered honestly, tears slipping down his cheeks because the words hurt to say. “Like, I can’t believe that I’m not completely alone. I deserve to be. I’m a shitty person, and I’m ugly, and you were right, you were always right, I don’t care about anyone but myself.”

“No, you didn’t care about anyone but yourself. Past tense.” Ryan said pointedly, and Dallon wiped his tears away with his fingertips. “You’re a wonderful person. You just went through something. And I love you, and Brendon loves you, and a lot of people love you, Dallon. You have to know that.”

Dallon shook his head. He didn’t. He couldn’t. People couldn’t love somebody like him. It just wasn’t in the cards. “That’s so fucking hard to believe sometimes.” He choked out, but his voice didn’t sound like him when he said it.

“I know, but it’s true. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. Come here.” He wrapped an arm around him and Dallon buried his face in his shoulder. “I love you so much. You’re my best friend. And you know that if you weren’t the most important person in my life then I wouldn’t be holding your hair back while you puked in my bathroom in the middle of the night. So you need to trust me when I tell you that I couldn’t be more honest if I tried.” He cupped Dallon’s cheek in his hand when he tried to smile. “You’re gorgeous, okay? Stop calling yourself ugly. You’re not. Look at you. If we weren’t us you know I would be all over you.”

Dallon sniffled, his eyes innocent as he stared up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!” He laughed, and Dallon guessed he was right; even if things were different they’d still be in each other’s lives somehow. “Your boyfriend is stupid crazy about you. And we all stood by you even when you were such a bitch, Dallon, seriously.” Dallon laughed too, not bothering to refute because he was right. He didn’t know how they loved him enough to let him stick around. “You don’t need to be perfect, and you don’t need to look perfect, and you don’t need to be in control of everything all the time. Take it from me. It gets better. Even when it feels like it can’t. Okay?” Dallon nodded, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to thank him but wishing he could. “Okay. Now you need to stop being so emotional, Dallon, and you need to calm down and go to sleep because I’m fucking exhausted and you are too and you’ve been crying for like, hours. Go to bed.”

“Okay.” Dallon laughed, and there were tears in his eyes but he curled up against him. He never knew how to thank him, anyway. He’d had years’ worth of thank you’s all filed for Ryan, though he never seemed to be able to pick them out just right. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” He settled on, because that was as honest as he could say.

“You’ll never have to find out.” Ryan promised, wrapping an arm around him, and Dallon knew he meant it. He tilted his head up, sniffling, and caught his gaze in the dark. Head spinning, he bit his lip transiently, leaned in, and just as quick Ryan pulled away. "Dallon."

"I'm sorry." He touched his own lips like he hadn't known what had gotten into them. Like they had a mind of their own and had conducted their own movement, bold to a fault when he was intoxicated. "I didn't mean..."

"It's okay, it's just... it's not an invitation, Dallon. We can't keep circling back to this. Not when you have Brendon. Not when you're drunk." He shook his head gently, but he didn't sound mad. Just disappointed, or worried, maybe, he knew how Dallon got. Tried to hurt himself any way he knew how. "I don't want you to self-sabotage. You're trying to ruin the one good thing in your life right now because that's what you do. Stop thinking you don't deserve something good. Brendon is really good for you."

"I know, I just." He took in a shuddering breath, holding his hand over his mouth like he were going to start crying again. "I think I ruined things already, Ryan. I'm not good for him. I hurt him."

"And even if you did, Dallon, cheating on him is going to make that irreversible. Especially with me. It means too much. You don't want to do this. You don't want to let a lapse in judgment ruin your relationship." He reminded him, and even in his inebriated state he could hear him. This wasn't him. Wasn't his choice. It was just him trying to get revenge on himself for all the things that he'd done. "Look, you're not thinking straight. Go to bed. We can talk in the morning, okay?"

"Okay." Dallon agreed, his head was pounding again, and all of a sudden the room seemed darker, blurrier, less comprehensible.

"Okay. C'mere." Ryan reached out for him in the dark and Dallon did as he guided him to do, shifting to rest his head against his upper arm. He was self-sabotaging. Convincing himself that things were over. He knew that. It was just so much easier to try to ruin things before they could crash and burn themselves. Ryan brushed his arm gently with careful fingers, and Dallon shut his eyes. "This is just another thing for you to get through, Dallon. Stop thinking so hard about it. Things will be better in the morning."

Dallon nodded, but said nothing because he didn't know what to say. Things will be better in the morning.

He'd been telling himself that one for four goddamn years.


	46. Chapter 45: Your Innocence

Dallon’s head ached when he opened his eyes that morning, squinting at the sunlight bleeding into the room and wishing he could turn back time because this was a bad idea. Not shocking, however, as everything he had done as of late had been a bad idea. He blinked a few times, unused to the headache and the brightness, and Ryan smiled at him when his vision unblurred.

“Hi, Dal, good morning.” Ryan greeted quietly, inches from his face, and poked at his cheek when he grunted and pulled away with a sigh. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Why’d you let me do that?” He complained, pushing messy hair away from his face and managing to get it in his mouth. “Oh my god. This is why people don’t get drunk. You couldn’t have shut the blinds before I woke up?”

“Lots of people get drunk.” Ryan disagreed and Dallon buried his face in the pillow, curling up under the covers. “And no. I like fresh sunlight. And annoying you. Do you want breakfast?”

“Ew, no. I wanna die.” He muttered and he could feel Ryan stare, but people really needed to learn not to take things so seriously. He didn’t look up when Ryan placed a hand on his side, rubbing gently up and down as if assuring him that he was okay.

“Alright, but you’re gonna have to do that elsewhere, my friend. I’ve gotta get ready for school. Not all of us get to stay home because they’re hungover.”

“Shit.” He swore, peeking up at him with a grimace. “Is that today?”

“Like it’s every day? Yep. Law hasn’t changed.” He pat his side and then pulled away, giving Dallon room to roll out of bed. He supposed he should get up, leave Ryan to his life when Dallon wasn’t interrupting. “You’re calling out, I suppose?”

“I suppose.” Dallon repeated, and Ryan raised an eyebrow at him, watching him grab a pillow to hit him with it. “Smartass.”

“Hey!” Ryan laughed, going to kick at him, and hit him back with the pillow like a child getting revenge. “Pretentious cunt.”

“Scared little boy.” Dallon bit back, and unlike two years prior they both laughed in sync, like they’d laughed so much together since then that they became one. Dallon’s head was pounding, though, and he looked around the room for a second, wondering how things had changed so much in the past couple of years. How they had both matured so much. “Thank you.” Dallon added quietly, suddenly, his laughter fading, and Ryan looked up at him skeptically. “For everything. I take you for granted sometimes and I wish I didn’t cause you’re amazing. You’re the best person to have around in a crisis. You’re the best person anyway.”

“Dallon.” Ryan sighed and Dallon forced a smile, reaching out his arms needily until he enveloped him in a hug. “You’re my favorite person.”

“Even when I’m being a brat.” He added, squishing his cheek against Ryan’s.

“Even when you’re being a brat.” Ryan agreed, sketched through a laugh, and pulled away to pinch his cheek playfully like he were still a kid. The kid he had grown up with, getting to know before all the bad stuff. He sat back a little bit, looking at Dallon as his smile faded. He still saw that kid in Dallon sometimes. In his eyes. Big eyes held so much childishness in them. “If you need to talk about anything, Dal, I’m here.” He added quietly, but Dallon could hear his hesitance. “I know you’re going through a lot right now. But it’s not like it used to be. You can trust me.”

Dallon pulled away to look at him, suddenly remembering the night before, why he was getting so uncharacteristically sentimental, and covered his face with his hands. He knew he had said something embarrassing. Self-incriminating. “Fuck.” He swore, shaking his head. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so dramatic and up your ass. I just get that way sometimes and it’s stupid. You shouldn’t worry about me. It’s just me being moody.”

“I’m always going to worry about you, Dallon.” Ryan argued, and guilt settled in Dallon’s stomach when he realized that he was right. Ryan was always going to worry about him. It was in his nature. “Whether you’re being dramatic or not. I just— I didn’t know how bad it was right now. I should have known. And I shouldn’t have let you get drunk.”

“I’m an adult, Ryan, I can’t expect other people to stop me from making stupid decisions. Bad habits just die hard.” He bumped his fist against Ryan’s knee, trying to trick him into thinking he was alright. He did that a lot. Ryan pretended he didn’t see through it. “Look. You’re not my guardian, Ryan. You’re not my babysitter. And I love you for trying to look out for me, you have my entire life, but I don’t want you to feel like you need to take care of everybody else. This isn’t your burden.”

“I know it’s not. But it’s an instinct. And not everyone can deal with you, Dallon, let’s be honest.” They both laughed, and Ryan nudged his socked foot with his own. “Listen. You take care of me in every way you know how. I’m gonna do the same for you. Even if I have to sit on a bathroom floor with you in the middle of the night when you’re puking your guts out. That’ll always be where I belong. Helping you. It’s who I am. And sometimes you’re too stubborn to let me, but let’s face it. I like a challenge.” Dallon smiled, knew he was right, but never knew how to thank him for it, anyway. “It’s never a burden, Dallon. It’s just what I do. Just like you take care of me when I need it. If you need to cry to me all night and steal my family’s alcohol to drink to forget them I’m gonna let you, even when I think it’s a terrible decision.”

“It’s hard to let people help you sometimes.” Dallon said quietly, guilty, always so guilty, and Ryan nodded, always seemed to understand even when Dallon didn’t. “But I love you for it.”

“I know.” Ryan sighed, and wrapped him in a hug when Dallon took in a deep breath. “Hey, you told me to remind you when you’re sober that you promised you’d go back to therapy.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” He asked hesitantly, though he vaguely remembered. Sitting on the bathroom floor, his head pounding, he didn’t hold alcohol well.

“Yeah.” He pat his thigh and Dallon nodded, wiping his eyes though he wasn’t crying. Therapy. He knew he’d somehow end up agreeing. He just hated that Ryan knew he couldn’t say no to him and played it to his advantage.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll talk to my mom about it.” He got up and stretched, his body aching, and Ryan looked him over with a sigh when he tugged his pants up over his hips with a tired grunt. “I should get home.” He added, Ryan still had school, Dallon didn’t expect him to skip. He just wished he didn’t have to go home so soon. That was where he started thinking too much again.

“Are you good to drive?”

“I’ll be fine. S’not far.” He assured him as Ryan followed, unsure. “D’you have ibuprofen, though? I really need some. No wonder you don’t get drunk.”

“Yeah, Dallon, I have ibuprofen.” He half smiled, not saying what he wanted to say, and crossed the room to dig through his desk drawer for the bottle. He found it wedged under a notebook as Dallon watched him, intrigued by the mess, and took the bottle when Ryan offered it.

“Thanks.” He popped the cap, shaking a few pills into his hand. Ryan half smiled but didn’t answer, folding his arms and instead watching Dallon grab the half empty bottle of water from Ryan’s desk to wash the pills down. He took them so easily. No flinching or hesitation. That was a scary observation. “Hey, do you really think I’m gorgeous?” He asked as a second thought, as if the water refreshed his brain and he remembered more from the night before.

He was taken aback for a second, not expecting him to confront it when he was sober. “Dallon, c’mon.” He said like it were the most obvious thing in the world. Dallon made a face, a smile through skepticism, and Ryan smiled back at him, hoped the words said themselves because some things weren’t easy to say. Things would be different if they weren’t them. If Dallon wasn’t Dallon. If he hadn’t ruined things. If he didn’t have Brendon. Things would be different in another lifetime and he made himself be okay with that.

“I’m sorry I tried to kiss you.” Dallon added suddenly, stretching his arms above his head like it were casual. It was anything but, actually. He and Ryan had been through too much to be casual.

“I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t remember that, either.” Ryan admitted, watching him adjust his sleeves as he got ready to go. “It’s okay. I’m justifying it because you were drunk.”

“Yeah.” He laughed sheepishly to himself. It wasn’t shocking; not anymore. Dallon was good at making mistakes. Hurting himself. The things that actually went well for him.

“You gonna tell Brendon?” He asked lightly, not wanting to make it a thing, but with them everything was. Of course it was a thing. Nothing was nothing when there was a history behind it.

Dallon looked at him, taking a deep breath, and nodded slowly. Tell Brendon. He supposed he would. “Yeah.” He sighed, promised himself he’d be honest with him, and turned to find his phone on Ryan’s side table. “I guess I have to. I’ve already fucked things up enough with him. Getting drunk and almost cheating on him is probably reason enough for him to break up with me if he’s not planning to already.”

Ryan tsked, saw through him, as everything Dallon did had meaning. But he remembered their conversation. Brendon wouldn’t do that. He loved him way too much. “I doubt he’s gonna break up with you.” He lamented, but didn’t tell him exactly what he knew.

“We’ll see.” He shrugged, checking the time and wiping his screen off on his pants. He barely remembered showing up here, just knew that it was where he felt comfortable. Like he could stay when he needed somewhere to go.

“Do you still have feelings for me, Dallon?” Ryan asked suddenly, and just as quickly Dallon looked up at him, wide eyed and looking confronted. That was what it was, though, wasn’t it? A confrontation. A question he’d wanted to ask for a while but was scared to. “You don’t have to answer. I just think we’ve gone through enough where I’m allowed to ask that without it being weird.”

“I have a boyfriend. It’s gonna be weird.” He laughed tiredly, but nodded nonetheless, not bothering to hide it or be embarrassed like he used to as he’d lost a lot of his dignity over the past year or so. “Yeah, Ryan, sometimes.” He admitted like it was nothing. Ryan raised his eyebrows in shock as he sat down again, but he guessed it wasn’t unlike Dallon. Admitting something so casually. Pretending things didn’t matter when they did. “I think after something like that, us, you know, it’s hard to just... change how you feel. It doesn’t mean I wanna be with you. It doesn’t mean I don’t love Brendon. I just...”

“I know.” Ryan interrupted, he didn’t have to say it, and Dallon forced a smile at him, grateful that he didn’t let things get weird anymore. They felt so far past that. “If it’s any consolation-“

“Things could be different. I know.” Dallon reached out to kick at his leg playfully, no harm taken. They just wouldn’t work. They’d tried already. “Just... for the record, Ryan, nothing I did or said or whatever has anything to do with Brendon. I know I sabotage myself. I’ve been trying so hard not to. So if I return to bad habits, it’s just... that. Me not adjusting well. I want to, though, and I’m trying. To trust him completely and let him in and stop being so paranoid, y’know? I’m trying.”

“Good. Because he’s good, Dallon, and I don’t want you to try and get rid of him before he can get rid of you. I don’t want you hurting each other. Brendon’s the best thing that could have possibly happened to you.”

“I know.” Dallon sighed, but with this feeling of anxiety deep in his stomach. Brendon was good. He was perfect. He just didn’t deserve someone as bad and malicious as Dallon. “I’m trying so hard to be a good boyfriend. A good person. It’s just not easy when I’ve been trained not to be.”

“You trained yourself.” Ryan pointed out. Dallon turned to look at him, slipping his phone into his pocket. “So you can train yourself to be good, too. Just takes some time.”

“You’re right.” Dallon agreed, and reached out an arm. Ryan got up, almost tripping on his blanket, and enveloped him completely. Reminded himself that Dallon hugging him and meaning it was something he’d been deprived of for years once. Thankful that he trusted him again. “Thank you. I’m gonna go call in and try to rest at home. Have a good day.”

“Good luck.” He called after him as he headed out, and Dallon smiled at him over his shoulder. He felt safe here. Leaving always made him feel uneasy. But he headed down the stairs anyway, smiling at Ryan’s mother in a goodbye, and headed back out into the cold.

* * *

“Hello?” Dallon’s mom called out skeptically when he shut the front door behind him, trying to keep it quiet. He winced, he thought she’d be at work already, and he toed off his sneakers as he wandered toward the kitchen.

“Hey, it’s me.” He greeted, and his head ached when she saw him. “I slept over Ryan’s. I just got home.”

“I figured. How’s he? You look terrible. Did you sleep?” She looked him up and down, obviously skeptical, and he prayed she couldn’t tell. She didn’t drink. She couldn’t know. He didn’t want to be more of a failure to her than he already was.

“He’s okay. And I know. I feel sick.” He scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck. “But no, I didn’t sleep very well. It’s not his fault, we didn’t really do anything but talk, but I had some bad dreams. And a headache. I think I’m gonna stay home today and rest, if that’s okay.”

“Sure, babe. That’s fine. I’m heading out in a little while; I’m working a short shift but I have errands to run. Will you be okay alone?” He nodded, couldn’t really stand company anyway, and she crossed the kitchen to give him a hug. “Okay. I hope you feel better, my boy. Get some rest.”

“I’ll try.” He assured her hopefully, though his body didn’t often let him rest. He headed down the hallway, though, looking over his shoulder only when he heard her shuffle back to where she was packing herself a lunch, and slipped into the bathroom. “Fuck.” He grunted as he turned to close the door, ashamed in himself for even letting himself do it. He knew not to get drunk. He knew, but he did it anyway.

He locked the bathroom door behind him and knelt down to puke, praying she wouldn’t hear him. He knew why he liked to listen to Ryan. He was typically right about everything. He hated that about him. He liked it too, though. It made the truth less heavy hitting.

He rested his cheek against the cold porcelain and grimaced to himself. He was disgusting. Ryan could deny that all he wanted. Brendon could too. It wouldn’t make him stop believing it.

“Fuck.” He repeated to the empty bathroom, sitting up on his knees and emptying his stomach again. Mistake. He was such a mistake.

Wiping his face with the back of his hand he sat back, managing to flush the toilet and pushing himself up to stand. He didn’t want his mother to know. She always worried too much when anything was wrong. She just forgot that Dallon was used to things being wrong. He tried not to worry about that anymore. He slipped across the hall and into his room, closing his door tight before she could catch him.

He fell back on the mattress, his head pounding and his tongue bitter with a bad taste. He needed to rest. He needed to stop thinking. He was so bad at not thinking. In his hoodie pocket his phone buzzed so he searched for it, shaking his head, he was such a mistake, so good at fucking up, and a message from Brendon lit up his screen.

Bumblebee: hi baby good morning how are u

He squinted at the screen with a sigh, wrinkling his nose. He was a terrible boyfriend. He was a terrible person.

Dally: hungover i’m literally never drinking again I’m so bad at this

Bumblebee: so like... why did u get drunk

Dally: I just... felt like it? I never got to be one of those teenagers who drinks for fun. I wanted to do something stupid that would get my mind off of everything last night and I figured it would be better than hurting myself or doing drugs or cheating right

Bumblebee: I don’t want u to be one of those people who drinks to solve ur problems dal I don’t want this to be an issue

Dally: I’m not it’s not don’t worry about me

Bumblebee: as long as you’re okay and still healthy and cute and love me and whatever

Dally: of course

Dally: I may have talked about how bad you are at giving head though

Bumblebee: that’s only acceptable because I know I’m very bad at it

Dally: you’ll get better

Bumblebee: one can only hope

Bumblebee: I’m not coming to school today I have a doctors appointment and my mom thinks it’ll be good for me to take the day off so I don’t have to rush to school or wait until after

Dally: I’m not going either because I’m puking we’re such a power couple

Bumblebee: hell yeah

Dally: I’m gonna try to go back to sleep now but I’ll talk to you later

Bumblebee: will do sir

Brendon locked his phone and looked up to see his mother enter the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee maker. “Morning.” He greeted quietly, pulling his legs up to criss-cross them on his chair.

“Morning, keiki. How’d you sleep?” She asked, going through the motions of finding her favorite mug and going to prepare her coffee.

“The usual.” He tried to smile but couldn’t; there was nothing to smile about. She looked over at him, half frowning; the usual wasn’t a good thing. He was used to it.

“Are you ready for the doctor’s?”

“Oh, as ready as I’ll ever be.” He said sardonically, but didn’t quite catch the look of disdain she gave him as he returned to eating his cereal. “I just wish I didn’t have to miss school. Everyone already looks at me and talks about me enough. I’m scared there will just be more stupid rumors if I take too many sick days.”

“Well, it’s good to have a mental health day once in a while. God knows you need it.” She went to get the cream out of the refrigerator, looking at him doubtfully over her shoulder. “Besides, what rumors could people possibly come up with just because you miss a day or two?”

He shrugged, leaving his spoon in his half empty bowl. “I don’t know. That I’m working the corner or at the hospital getting treated for an STD. Or that I’m running from the cops or miraculously pregnant and trying to escape my family before they can find out. Or that I was hooking up with some stranger and he killed me in an alleyway-“

“You think too much.” She interrupted. He glared at her, judging him didn’t help, but she put a hand on the top of his head and he remembered that he was just a dramatic kid. “C’mon. Go brush your teeth. I don’t want to be late.”

Wordlessly he got up, heading upstairs to brush his teeth. He hated the doctors. They never helped. They would never cure him. They were just biding time.

It was the same as it always was; waiting for his mother to check him in, glaring down at his sneakers, sitting quietly with anxiety in the pit of his stomach until they called his name. It felt so familiar now, the process, the way they knew him by face and how he memorized the posters in all of the rooms. Familiar, but not in a good way.

He kicked awkwardly at the ugly gray carpet and frowned, poking at a hole in his leggings and wishing he had at least showered before he came here because he didn’t really know what the tests entailed. He knew they wanted to see him, check up on his progress, but he wasn’t progressing, really. Getting worse. Not better. Or maybe he was just at a plateau. He wondered if that was the worst thing that could happen.

“Brendon Urie?” A nurse called, and he got up like routine, looking back at his mother despondently, and followed her down the hall to get his height and weight.

He waited patiently in an exam room as the doctor prepared for him. Those wooden fish hung from the ceiling, swinging gently as he tried to blow at them. He liked the pediatric ward; it made him feel safer than the adult one, less judged, more welcome. The fish tanks in the waiting room and the happy little paintings and the false feeling of okayness. It was a doctor’s office. Things were never okay there.

“Hi, Brendon.” His doctor greeted as she shut the door behind her. “How are you doing? Anything you wanna mention or ask before I go ahead and ask all those obnoxious doctor visit questions?” He shrugged, shook his head, picked at the skin around his nails. “Alright, then. Just to debrief, today I’m gonna ask a little bit about your mental health and if you’ve seen any changes. I wanna see if your meds are a good fit or if we should move on. First of all, I’ve got most of your information down. Alcohol, drugs, sex?”

“No, no, and not since the last time I was here.” He answered smoothly, wondering how Dallon was feeling, if he was better, or felt bad because he was resorting to old coping mechanisms.

“Alrighty.” She checked a few things off on her clipboard. “Okay, my friend. Tell me a little about the medicine you’ve been taking. How are you feeling about it? Do we like it, or are we changing it?”

“Uh. I don’t... I don’t think it’s working. I’ve been on it a few months and I’m not seeing any improvements. Uh. I still get really anxious. I’ve been more tired than usual, though. I think it might have something to do with them.”

“Alright. So you get tired. That’s a big one. And you feel like this is worse since you’ve begun to take your medicine?” Brendon nodded, trying to list all the faults with them. “Have you had any other negative side effects that you’ve noticed? Any changes? How are you sleeping?”

“I’m sleeping the same as I usually do. I’m sleepier than usual but it hasn’t really changed the, like, hours a night I sleep or anything. As for other changes, um, I’ve been having some panic attacks lately. I don’t know what else. I’ve just felt gross.” He kicked his socked feet against the exam table awkwardly. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. There are no wrong answers.” She assured him, but he felt stupid anyway. “How have you been feeling otherwise? You said you’re still anxious. And I know you filled out your behavioral health questionnaire. On the topic of behavioral health, I was wondering if maybe you’d like a referral to see a therapist in that department. It may benefit you to-“

“No.” He interrupted, but felt guilty and added, “I, um. I’m talking to somebody at school. My counselor. I’m not really comfortable with a therapist so I’m trying that out instead. I think talking to her has been helpful.”

“As long as you’re not bottling it up. But just so you know we have plenty of resources so if you need to, utilize them. We’re happy to help.”

“I’m good for now, but maybe. Thanks.” He said as a formality, nodding sincerely, though he didn’t mean it. He didn’t want to go back.

“Alright. So, since you haven’t been reacting well to the medication you’re on now I want to change the medicine you take. You’ve had a few refills on that one, and even when we increased it it didn’t do much for you. I think I want to switch you to Lorazepam. That’s gotten some good feedback. Of course, in a few months at your next checkup we’ll see if that’s a match and if not, we can change again. Antidepressants are trial and error so our goal is to find the best fitting one as fast as possible. The problem with that is that medicine is hard when you want to go fast because your body needs to take time to adjust. Rest assured though, Brendon, we will find the right one.”

“Okay.” He nodded, and she went to fill out a prescription for him. “Thank you.” He added, accepting the slip of paper.

“Have a good rest of your day.” She called after him, and he forced a smile as he slipped out and back to the waiting room.

“They’re changing my meds.” He told his mom quietly when he found her sitting down, handing her the paper.

“Okay. We’ll stop by the pharmacy on the way home.” She folded it neatly and slipped it into her purse. “Are you ready to go? They don’t need bloodwork or anything?” He shook his head so she got up, leading him toward the exit. He hated the doctor’s office. It always left him feeling worse than he did going in.

He climbed into the passenger seat of his mother’s car and twisted up the heat, uncomfortable and tired and upset. He knew it was important, going to the doctor’s, he knew, but it just didn’t feel right. Having someone tell him everything that was wrong with him all at once. What a flawed system.

Bumblebee: so I had a doctors appointment today and they’re changing meds to try a new once since the other didn’t help. I’ll go back again in a few months to see how this one is doing. and I gained some weight and if it’s possible I think I got shorter.

Dally: I hate to break it to you but you’ve always been this short

Dally: it’s good that they’re trying to change them! especially since you didn’t see any progress with the last ones. it’s trial and error and they never know how well it’s gonna work out until you try it. the meds take a while and you won’t see progress immediately. that’s just how they are. just take them consistently and as directions say and you should be okay

Bumblebee: maybe the rest of the world is just too tall

Bumblebee: I’m so sick of waiting to feel better I just wanna do it ):

Dally: you will it just takes some time don’t worry! just keep taking your meds and be good

Bumblebee: being good is so LAME

Dally: so is depression baby it is what it is

Bumblebee: ): I just got home I’m gonna lie down I’ll talk to u soon

Dally: ok I’ll talk to you later

He was silent as he headed up the stairs, only half-heartedly thanking his mother for taking him though she understood. It was hard for him to mean anything these days. He just escaped to his room, overwhelmed, and closed his bedroom door behind him to hide.

He dropped his phone on his mattress as he fell back against it and tilted his head upward, letting his eyes fall shut. New medication could help. At this point he would try anything. He just wanted to get better. He felt like he had a virus and needed antibiotics. Like there was an infestation in his mind. It didn’t just feel like... whatever it was. It felt worse.

He didn’t want to feel this way forever. He couldn’t. He just didn’t know exactly how not to.

* * *

Dallon was getting used to being alone. With Brendon basically on the other side of the world and his mom trying to balance her relationship and work and being a parent, he was feeling as alone as he was once upon a time when his mother wouldn’t look him in the eye and before Brendon, before he had someone that taught him how to take care of others. But these days, that was a skill going unused.

Dallon’s mom got home earlier than usual on Tuesday, a couple of hours after Dallon had gotten home, a couple of hours into him watching bad, mindless TV because his hands were tired and his mind was tired and he didn’t want to think or do anything or move, for that matter. Brendon was doing homework alone at home after his shift, he’d mentioned in passing while they did busy work in health class, trying to catch up on some things he missed. And Dallon wished him good luck, let his mother pick him up so she could take him to run some errands before his shift, keeping him busy. And Dallon... well, Dallon was just anxious.

“Hi, Dals.” She greeted, hanging her purse up and dropping the keys on the table. “Whatcha doing?”

Dallon shrugged, gesturing to the almost empty bag of Cheetos beside him on the couch and playing with the remote aimlessly. “Having a post-lunch pre-dinner snack.”

She approached him and, without a word, grabbed the bag from him. “Dallon, you know what the doctors said.” She huffed, rolling up the top of the bag and reaching for the clip like the bag was about to explode a million tiny flesh-eating creatures and destroy the human race, which wouldn’t be the worst thing right now. “You have to-“

He rolled his eyes. “Watch your impulsive behaviors, try not to binge eat, blah blah blah. I know. I’m not. I’m really just hungry.”

“Then get some soup or something. Make a sandwich. You know we have plenty of food here. Real food.” She gestured to the kitchen, keeping the bag far away from him in case he tried anything.

Dallon made a noise of displease and squirmed against the cushion, pouting like a child. “I’m sick of everything.”

She dropped her hand to her side, staring at her son like he’d said more than he had. “Have you been taking your meds?”

“Yes, mother, I’ve been taking my meds. You don’t have to worry about that anymore. I promise.” He got up from the couch, annoyed, and she followed him when he went into the kitchen, the bag still in her hand. “Stop worrying about me.”

“I’ll stop worrying about you when you stop giving me something to worry about.” She refuted when he went to grab a glass and fill it with ice. He avoided eye contact, instead went to find a water bottle in the fridge, and she stood practically breathing down his neck. “You can’t get bad again, Dallon. You know my condition.”

“I’m not.” He turned around sharply and she grabbed his biceps, forcing him to look at her.

“Dallon, don’t snap at me.” She demanded.

“I didn’t snap.”

“Dallon.”

“I’m not going back to the hospital.” He said with finality, because he knew what she was implying and he wouldn’t. He swore he’d never go again. Not after October. Not after everything.

She tapped her foot impatiently but he glared her down, prayed she would drop it because he was so sick of being told what to do. It was like he was a goddamn child. He was eighteen, for Christ’s sake. “If you’re starting to get bad again, honey, then-“

“I’m not going.” He interrupted, louder now.

“Dallon.” She asserted, more domineering this time, and he clenched his jaw. “I think that it might be good for you to go. Your doctor said that you should go back when you’re feeling out of control, and I think that you need it right now.”

He shook his head but said nothing, didn’t bother fighting because she knew how to handle it, anyway. “I’m gonna go lay down.” He said instead, and with that he pulled out of her grip hastily and moved past her, heading down the hallway toward his room.

He only managed to curl up in bed for a minute before his mom knocked quietly on his door and opened it. And he knew she would, she never left him alone after fights, it was both of their rule. Don’t fight and wait until later to make up. You never know what will happen in that span of time. Dallon thought it was a good rule, despite himself.

She sighed and tears filled Dallon’s eyes, leaving him to wipe at them when she took a seat on the edge of his bed and rubbed at his side. “What’s going on, kid?”

“Nothing.” He lied, still pouting, but she knew him better than he thought she did. He swallowed, hated to say it out loud, did anyway because he felt like maybe he needed to. “I just... I miss Brendon. I miss being with him every day. I know it hasn’t been long but... this whole thing is freaking me out. I feel like he’s trying to see how he likes not being with me before he breaks it off for good. It’s just... too familiar. Feeling like someone I love is gonna leave. He has every reason to and I’m probably not good for him and I know he probably resents me, and-“

“Dallon, that’s not true.” She interrupted, thumbing his cheek carefully when he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “You know it’s not. You’ve been doing so well.”

“No I haven’t.” He argued, tears sliding down his cheeks, and when he tugged at his sweater sleeve she said nothing though she caught it immediately. “I’m scared all the time, and I feel like I’m constantly fucking up, and I feel so fucking alone, and it feels like everyone’s just... against me. Like Brendon hates me and you hate me and-“

Her eyes softened when her son sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Dallon, Brendon doesn’t hate you. And I don’t either. I think you’re taking this all to heart. Please just calm down.” She pet his hair slowly. “I love you, my boy, and so does he, and this isn’t your fault. I know you think it is but it isn’t. This is Brendon dealing with his own things right now.” He peeked up at her, eyes evaluating, and sometimes he understood and sometimes he didn’t. He was usually so much better at controlling it. “You didn’t take your meds today, did you?” Reluctantly, he shook his head, and with a sigh she stood up. Instinctively he went to reach for her hand, but she assured him, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m gonna get your pill and I’ll be back.”

“Will you lay with me?” He asked, voice broken.

“Of course, baby.” She disappeared for a minute, and came back with a single pill in the palm of her hand. He hated the things, wished he didn’t have to take them, but he didn’t want to keep fucking up. So he took it, took a sip of water, took another sip because the cold burned his throat and he wanted it to.

He laid back down and she sat beside him, holding him against her chest innocently and petting his hair. He was quiet for a long time, half asleep in her arms, and part of him wanted to scream and cry and punch the wall, and part of him wanted to call his boyfriend and tell him that this was ridiculous and stupid and they needed each other, and part of him just wanted more fucking Cheetos.

“Being in the psych ward makes me feel helpless. Like... everything I do and say is being evaluated and judged. I already feel like I’m being judged enough. I can’t even go to the bathroom alone. I’ll get a stronger prescription or something, I’ll write down my feelings more like my old therapist told me to do, but I am not going back.” And he said it like it was a rule, an ultimatum. He wouldn’t go back. She couldn’t make him, and he wouldn’t go.

“Fine.” She sighed, tucking some hair behind his ear and scratching gently. “I love you, Dallon. Don’t ever think I don’t. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.” He admitted, and a tear slid down his cheek when he wouldn’t look up at her. “Like you would rather it have been me.”

“God, Dallon, no. Baby.” She held him tighter and he let out a noise of distress. “No. Don't ever say that. I love you so, so much. We had a few bad years, okay? We’re not in that place anymore. You’re my baby. My miracle.” It was cliché, but it was true. He took in a shuddering breath, and she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “We’re okay, sweetheart.”

“Okay.” He mewled, and she stroked his hair, but he couldn’t help but wonder. Maybe she didn’t hate him, but no one said that Brendon didn’t. He was too scared to ask. He was too scared to hear his answer. “Do you think Brendon is gonna forgive me?” He asked, the words full of fear.

She brushed a hand through his hair carefully. “For what?”

He shook his head, looking up like he were berating his own mind for even thinking it. He was so pathetic. Crying over a boy when all of this was his fault. Brendon would be right in not forgiving him. Dallon gave him no reason to. “For fighting with him and being a bad boyfriend and having a shitty past that makes it harder for me to get to know.”

“I think Brendon is more understanding than you know.” She swiped a thumb under his eye and he looked up at her, swallowing thickly. “You’re not a bad boyfriend, Dallon. You know how you get. You think everything you do is wrong.”

“Because it is.” He said desperately, his throat burning hot with tears.

“Because that’s just how you are.” She intervened and he sniffled involuntarily, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “Stop beating yourself up, Dals. Brendon’s taking a break for him. It has nothing to do with you.”

He took in a deep breath, everyone kept telling him but he didn’t know, he just didn’t know. There were too many questions. This was too coincidental. “That’s what Ryan said.”

“Ryan is smart.” She pointed out, and it was true, Ryan really was very smart. He always seemed to know the right thing to say. That was the problem. Dallon knew he was always right. That made it so much harder for him to admit that he was wrong.

“Yeah, he is.” He agreed, maybe he should listen to Ryan more often. Swallow his pride and recognize his faults. “I got drunk with him the other day.” He admitted as a second thought, and her eyes trained on him, shocked because she had never expected that of him. “Or, y’know, he didn’t get drunk, but I did. I don't know why.”

She stared at him for a second, worried, and then again she had a reason to be. It wasn’t often that she thought Dallon was back to his worst. “What’s this boy doing to you, Dallon?” She asked quietly, shaking her head and not wanting to believe it.

“No, it’s not Brendon.” He promised, because it wasn’t. Brendon was good for him. That was the point. “Sometimes I just get in these bad moods where I wanna hurt myself or do something bad but I don’t usually drink. I don’t know why I did.” He sniffled, feeling guilty again, and his mother’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry. I don’t wanna make it a habit cause I know that never ends well but it was a stupid impulse and I won’t do it again.”

“I understand. You don’t let go of your coping mechanisms so easily. And it was irresponsible, honey, drinking recklessly, but you don’t need me to tell you that. You’re a teenager. It’s okay to make mistakes once in a while. As long as you’re safe.” She brushed hair behind his ear, not as upset as he thought she would be, though then again she had seen worse from him. “You shouldn’t be drinking on your meds, Dallon. It could harm your progress and you, too. You don’t wanna do that to yourself. You’re not good with imbalance.”

“Yeah, I didn’t even think of that.” He nuzzled his face in his pillow and sighed. He was just so fucking stupid. So fucking pathetic. “He said that... um. He said that he thinks I need to go back to therapy. And I think... I think I might want to. So I’m gonna call my doctor and ask for a referral, and I’m gonna try it.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” She agreed, but tried to hide her relief because she hated to tell him to go back. He nodded shortly, he knew how she felt about it, that she’d been asking him to go back for years. That he only said yes because it was Ryan who asked. Some things never changed. “Listen. You know that I’m not trying to give you shit about eating. I know that’s hard for you. I’m just worried, is all.”

“I know. I just feel like— like if I don’t eat enough then you think I’m starving myself and if I eat too much then I’m binge eating. It’s just hard to find a balance between those things, and I feel like it doesn’t matter either way. I’m just— I’m so anxious all the time, and my stomach hurts and it’s like it can’t handle real food and I don’t know how to explain it. It’s not all just...”

“It’s okay, baby, you don’t have to explain it.” She shushed him, seeing that he was fumbling with his words. He was never eloquent when talking about things like this. “It’s okay. I just don’t want you to develop an eating disorder, or have it come back, and-“

“I’m okay.” He promised. And she didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, if that answered any questions or solved any problems, but he didn’t want her to worry. He was handling things just fine. He wasn’t dead, and he wasn’t swallowing all of his pills, so he was handling things. That was handling things.

“I want you healthy, Dallon.” She added. It was all she ever wanted. A healthy miracle. She didn’t exactly luck out on that one.

“I know.” He assured her, and he did. He wanted to be healthy too. That was just hard to do when you were sick. Wanting to get better was a chore in itself. “I’m sorry for being so difficult.” He added, feeling overwhelming guilt deep in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have had you if I couldn’t handle it.” She figured, pressing a long kiss to his forehead. “If I could take all of your pain away I would.”

“I know.” He peeped, but he wouldn’t wish this on her. He wouldn’t wish this on anybody. He closed his eyes and felt the words claw at his throat. “I’m so sick of feeling like I don’t belong in my body.”

She brushed his hair back carefully, like she were afraid to break him. “Is something more going on, babe?” She asked gently, not saying quite what she meant though Dallon understood. “Because I would be okay with it if it was.”

“No. I don’t think so. I’m just... confused. I don’t know. I know I’m a boy. I know I’m gay. I just feel like I don’t know... me. Like my mind and my body and my soul are so disconnected. I don’t know if it’s cause of the depression or if it’s that I’m not close enough to God or something. Maybe I got too distant. But I don’t feel like me in my body. I feel like it isn’t mine and I’m just here to babysit it until the real owner gets back. I don’t know what it is. Why I feel that way. What do I do with that?”

“I don’t know, honey.” She frowned, and he supposed she wouldn’t. Not many people would get what he was trying to say. He didn’t even really know. “I just don’t want you to feel so lost anymore.”

“I don’t want to either. I just don’t really know how to fix it.” His chest burned with anxiety and he felt himself start to tremble, realizing he’d gone too far again. “Do you think we could not talk about it for a minute?” He asked, regret on his tongue.

“Sure, Dals.” She agreed, but he knew she knew. He was dodging. That was what he did. “Let’s not talk about it.”

* * *

Brendon rummaged through his drawer despondently, searching for something to wear because he felt bad about himself and he wanted to look okay. He was going out, running some errands with his mom and getting lunch, she was taking advantage of his professional development day at school. He didn’t want to go out but being holed up at home probably wasn’t a good idea, either. He pulled out a pair of jeans and he guessed they matched, didn’t jeans go with everything, he didn’t know this stuff, and tugged his pajama pants down.

He groaned as he tried to button them up, tighter on his thighs since the last time he wore this pair, before he gave up and pulled on yoga pants instead. He fell back on his bed and sighed, running a hand over his bare stomach. He hated his stupid body. He didn’t mind his gaining some weight, or what he looked like, it was just that he felt judged and self-conscious, and like everyone was going to hate him if he changed. But nobody he cared about was like that. Besides, thing changed enough already.

Bumblebee: will u still love me no matter what I look like

Dally: that’s ominous but yes I will

Bumblebee: I’m stress eating and my thighs aren’t happy abt it ):

Dally: I’m sure your thighs are as perfect as they always have been

Bumblebee: no they’re not

Dally: I think your weight is the last thing you should be stressed about Bren no matter what your body looks like you’re still you and I’m not gonna give you a cliche speech about how what’s on the inside matters

Bumblebee: I don’t care what I look like it’s just that my doctor thinks it’s not good how unhealthy I’ve been lately and it’s not even that bad cause I’ve always eaten like this but I think stress slows your metabolism and now I’m chunky and I feel like people are judging me and I already feel judged enough and

I’m insecure :(

Dally: no one is judging you

Dally: and I like chunky

Brendon rolled his eyes but smiled, stretching out on his bed and deciding that he was fine with yoga pants. Jeans were overrated, anyway. It was just running errands with his mom. Nothing important.

Bumblebee: u always make me feel better about myself. even when u call me chunky

Dally: your words not mine

Bumblebee: haha

Bumblebee: how r u

Dally: I’m okay I’m getting breakfast with Josh and Ry and taking advantage of the professional development day and willing away this headache. I’ve been getting up early

Bumblebee: feeling ambitious?

Dally: just can’t sleep

Bumblebee: me neither. I’m glad we have the day though cause lately I haven’t been up for school. my mom has been letting me take personal days as long as I get the homework and notes from someone in the class but it always worries me taking days off without an actual reason

Dally: I miss having you around

Bumblebee: I miss u more

Bumblebee: I’ve been trying to write a little bit

Dally: that’s good baby I’m proud of you how is that going

Bumblebee: it’s okay but none of it is making any sense my thoughts are all jumbled and messy and I don’t know where any of it is really going

Dally: sometimes the best writing makes no sense. and is jumbled and messy, if you think about it

Bumblebee: yeah well I prefer organized

Dally: I know you do but for now just hang in there it’ll get better. life and your writing. practice makes perfect

Bumblebee: I’m trying :( I’m gonna go run some errands with my mom but maybe later we can talk a little bit

Dally: sure Urie I would like that. have a good day

Bumblebee: u too

“Brendon, let’s go!” His mother called from the bottom of the stairs as if on cue. He got up, pulling his shirt down over his hips and heading toward the door.

* * *

Brendon followed his mom through the store closely, staring down at his sneakers and regretting ever agreeing to this. He hated running errands. He hated going out in public when he was feeling bad about himself, too. He rocked back and forth on his heels as his mother gathered what she needed, tossing a stack of paper plates into the carriage.

“Hey, mama?” He asked quietly, catching his reflection in the plastic of a display as he followed her down the beauty aisle.

“Do you need anything? Shampoo? Body wash?” She asked, scanning the aisle and picking out her favorite conditioner.

“No, I’m okay. Uh.” He turned idly, stopped to look at the makeup display, wished it wasn’t so taboo. He was getting sick of his face. He wanted to change it. “Mama, do you think I’m ugly?” He asked, though parents never admitted when they thought their children were unattractive. Or they were all biased. No one was going to admit that a child that looked like them was ugly. Not to their face and not to save their own self-esteem, anyway.

“No, Brendon, you’re my handsome boy as always.” She said half-heartedly, not really paying attention. He sighed, folding an arm as he went to grab a bottle of black nail polish. “Running out?” She asked, accepting the bottle and setting it down in the shopping cart.

“Yeah. Kara used the rest of it last weekend.” He said, trying to justify it through his guilt, though it was only four dollars. It didn’t really matter, did it? He still felt bad. “So, the doctor said that I gained some weight.”

“Did she?” She asked, still not looking away from her list, as she went to pick Kyla up some makeup remover wipes.

“Yeah. And I know it’s their job and everything, to tell me how my body is changing and stuff, but it made me feel really bad. Like it’s a bad thing to gain weight. And I know it’s not, but now I’m insecure and I feel like everyone’s looking at me because of it. I just wanna hide.”

“Oh, Brendon. You really do not have anything to worry about. Gaining weight isn’t the end of the world. In fact I think maybe it would do you some good.” He frowned, folding his arms insecurely as she led him to the checkout. “Feeling a little insecure is normal, Bren. Don’t worry.”

“I guess so.” He agreed, because he didn’t want to argue with her. It wasn’t the same as simple insecurity. He was uncomfortable all the time. He felt like his body didn’t belong to him anymore. That was a different kind of pain. A different kind of anxiety.

He followed her into the checkout line and started to put their items on the conveyor belt. “Oh, I forgot something. I’ll be right back.” She said, patting his shoulder as she went. He didn’t expect her to understand. To just... see where he was coming from. To her he was just a dramatic teenager. He tried to be okay with that.

Brendon looked up to see that the cashier was a boy from school. He tried to look away before the boy saw who he was but it was in vain, because he clucked his tongue with intrigue. “Hey, diner boy.” He greeted, but it wasn’t friendly. Brendon made a noise of acknowledgment but didn’t say hello, as the words died and shriveled up on his tongue. “Buying nail polish?” He asked then with conviction in his voice, and Brendon looked away. He knew he didn’t mean well. Most people didn’t. “You really are a faggot. Everyone’s right about you.”

“Bren?” His mother called from a few aisles away. The guy snickered, but kept ringing up their items nonetheless. “Oh, there you are.” She approached him and set a few more things on the conveyor. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” The boy greeted, putting on a fake smile though Brendon could feel his malice. “Will that be cash or credit?”

* * *

Brendon was back to work the next day after school, trying to disconnect from his anxiety as he served customers with a smile. He read off the specials, asked if anybody wanted refills, joked around with them because that got him tips. People always liked when he was friendly. He noticed that he got less tips on the days where he wasn’t giving it his all.

Tyler showed up eventually to say hi, having been in the neighborhood as he was out with Josh for the afternoon. Brendon nodded solemnly at him, offering him a drink, and Tyler perched himself right on the other side of the counter. He interrogated him as Brendon did his job, he always showed up and either relayed his own stories or asked a million questions. That was what Tyler did. Brendon was just more of a listener.

“How are you and Dallon?” He asked as he drank his Sprite, playing with the straw and poking at the melting ice.

Brendon shrugged one shoulder, filling two glasses with orange soda for the girls at the end of the counter. “We’ve been texting.” He said casually, but knew how he would react anyway.

“That’s it?” Tyler asked and Brendon nodded, that was the point of a break, but he pouted when Brendon went to slide the girls their drinks. “Okay. So is this like, a break break? Like, a see other people, not really definitive kind of break? Or just like, not talking for a few days and calling it a break?”

“Who the hell else is Dallon supposed to see?” He asked, but when Tyler opened his mouth, added, “Don’t answer that. No, we’re just trying to figure stuff out alone. I miss him, and I don’t want us to be apart for long. I just wanted to give myself a few days to wallow in my own self-hatred, you know?”

“Brenny bear-“

“No, seriously. I’m okay. Stop.” Brendon crossed his heart, and Tyler sat back but let it go, because Brendon wouldn’t listen anyway. He had a hard time letting people guide him. Especially when they were worried and he was something to worry about. “I’m fine. Dallon and I are fine. I just didn’t want to drag him into all of my shit right now. He has enough going on as it is.”

Tyler looked skeptical, knew Brendon better than he knew himself, but that just wasn’t what Brendon wanted to hear. He didn’t want to handle the truth. The truth hurt too much. “I just don’t want you to make any mistakes.”

“All I do is make mistakes. I’ll figure it out.” Brendon waved him off and Tyler looked over his face, contemplating. Brendon wouldn’t meet his eyes, hated how well he read him. No one should be allowed to read him. He felt like people were robbing him of his thoughts. That didn’t feel so safe for somebody like him. “Hey, uh. Can I use your phone for a sec?” He asked as a second thought, trying to make it seem casual though he was sure he could hear the anxiety in his voice.

“No, Brendon, you’re not checking Twitter.” He denied, affronted, and Brendon looked taken aback. “Yes, tiny, I know what you want to do with it. What is this about?”

“Nothing, I just...” He looked away again, he suddenly couldn’t face him, and Tyler raised a questioning brow at him, urging him to continue. “Yesterday I went out with my mom and saw some guy from school. Probably someone who was friends with Shane or at least knows what happen. Because everyone fucking knows what happened and he— he said something to me, and it reminded me of everything. The account. What people are saying. And it freaks me out knowing that people are saying something about me and I don’t know what it is. What the rumors are. It’s not fair that they get to talk about me and I don’t even get to defend myself.”

“It’s not going to make you feel any better. You can’t stop what they’re saying. If you pretend it doesn’t bother you they’ll get bored and stop.” Tyler refuted, and he was right, Brendon couldn’t stop it. He didn’t have that power. But maybe it would make him feel more in control, or some false sense of it, at least,

“But it does bother me!” Brendon argued, didn’t see the harm in looking, sick of the anxiety of not knowing. Tyler sighed, pulled away from him, shook his head. Disappointed, but everyone always was with him, anyway.

“Grace, Brendon is trying to weasel my phone for Twitter. Keep an eye on him.” Tyler called to Brendon’s mom with no warning, and Brendon looked wide eyed back at him when his mother glared her son down from the kitchen window. “Sorry, tiny. It had to be done.” Wordlessly Brendon shook his head, shocked he’d even dare, and Tyler smiled in spite of his anger. “I’ll see you soon, friend. Good luck.”

“You’re a jerk.” Brendon accused, but Tyler only laughed as he got up and let himself out. Brendon knew it was to protect him. That was why Tyler did the things he did. Brendon just wished he would let him at least try to make his own decisions.

The chime on the door rang as Tyler disappeared, and his mother hissed, “Brendon-“

“I just wanna know, mama.” He interrupted, but the face she gave him was enough to shut him up. He knew not to argue with her. He just hated that he wasn’t given a say. He huffed, tugging at his stupid fucking apron. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He could feel everyone staring at him. “Whatever. My shift is over. I’m going upstairs.”

“You have ten minutes left.” She argued, gesturing to the clock as if he couldn’t read.

“I don’t care.” He shrugged, balling up his apron and shoving it under the counter.

She went to chase after him as he started toward the back. “Brendon. Brendon, get back here.” She called, earning a few curious gazes from customers, but he didn’t listen, didn’t really care, just darted up the stairs and didn’t stop until his bedroom door was closed behind him. He didn’t bother feeling guilty. He was too numb.

He was numb. He didn’t know how to stop feeling that way. He fell back on his mattress, letting his eyes fall shut. He’d apologize later. Just like routine. But right now he just wanted this all to stop.

* * *

“So the answer is B?”

“Yeah, you got it.” Ryan smiled up at him, and Brendon smiled too, circling the answer on their practice exam for astronomy. He liked studying with Ryan. It made him feel less like an idiot. He never sounded like he was pitying him. “So, I think she said the test was gonna be mostly multiple choice so we’re probably good. The short answer will be self-explanatory. You’re good at those.”

“Yeah, I think I am.” Brendon agreed, reading through the last couple of questions to make sure he was getting it. “I’m getting an A right now. This is my best class. You’re helping, obviously. But I have more fun with it than anything else.”

“Yeah, well. Everything else we learn is fucking boring.” He figured, watching Brendon flip his finished packet closed. “We’ve been here a few hours, haven’t we?” He added as he looked around at the vacant library, the lights dimmer now than they had been when school ended. Brendon glanced up, rubbing at his eyes under his glasses. He hadn’t even realized how late it was getting.

“Jesus. Yeah, I guess we have.” He observed, searching for the clock before he turned to just check his phone instead. “It’s almost six thirty. Have we really been doing homework that long? We’re so boring.”

Ryan laughed, slipping his astronomy notebook into his bag. “Yeah. We did our English papers and took a break to raid the vending machine and I had a mental breakdown about calculus before we started this practice test. We’ve been busy.”

“Yeah. I reiterate. We’re boring.” He shoved his stuff into his bag too, suddenly exhausted. “I’m gonna take the bus home. You wanna come with me?”

“Nah, I can’t. I gotta go the opposite way. My mom wants me to pick my sister up from her friend’s house in a half hour. She hates when she takes the bus alone. Sorry.” He apologized, but Brendon waved it off. “Hey, unrelated, but have you talked to Dal today?” Ryan asked then, going to unplug his phone from where he was using the library’s outlet to charge it.

“No, not really. I came here for lunch and didn’t really have a chance to talk to him during class. I’ve been trying to give him space. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I’m just wondering.” Ryan shrugged, and Brendon stopped putting his things away to look at him.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something, actually.” Brendon said hesitantly, and Ryan glanced up at him. He knew that tone of voice. Brendon had a lot of questions. Ryan seemed to have the answers. It wasn’t an established dynamic, but slowly they were figuring that they could be of some use to each other. “So, Dallon told me once that he, like, has trouble eating. He’s never exactly said anything super... obvious. But I just... I’ve been so insecure lately. Wondering who I’m supposed to be. And I remembered last summer when he told me— this one day in California— he told me he hated being in his own body. I didn’t understand it then but now I do. Or maybe... maybe not in the way that he does. Maybe there’s a reason he’s that way. So I wanted to ask...”

“If he has an eating disorder. Yeah. I know.” Ryan sighed, not even seeming shocked. Brendon wondered if he was that predictable or if Ryan really was just that good. “He’s mentioned that you were wondering about it before. Or hinted at it, or whatever. The truth is, I don’t really know. I don’t think so. He eats pretty normally and doesn’t starve himself. He’s just insecure. If he does have an eating disorder, he’s never told me. Then again I definitely don’t know everything there is to know about Dallon Weekes.”

“I know it’s nosy of me to ask around about it. I could ask him upfront. It’s just that I never know how honest he’s being when I ask him anything incriminating. I’m not... gonna judge him or anything. I just want to know. I just want to be able to take care of him.”

“He's not someone for you to take care of, Bren. He’s just a complicated person and he handles himself the way he wants to. I wish he’d be smart enough to let someone as good as you take care of him. He protects himself.” He looked down at his bag in thought and then sat back in his seat, shaking head. “I was hanging out with him last weekend and he said some stuff that really got to me. And I guess I’ve been too scared to ask him if he actually has an issue. Normally I’m up front with him but this seems different. More dangerous. So I don’t really know. But I think sooner or later we’ll find out.”

“I just hope I’m overthinking it.” He stood up with his bag on his shoulder, and together they walked out of the library. “I’ll see you Monday. Have a good weekend.”

“You too, Bren.” Ryan nodded at him and they parted ways, Ryan to the main door and Brendon to a side one, as it was closer to the bus stop. He got out his card and jogged to the stop, only having to wait a few minutes before the bus pulled up.

He climbed in, finding easily a vacant seat at the front. He hadn't taken the bus alone in a while, he realized ten minutes into his ride as he sat quietly, bouncing his legs. Not since before...

It was so overwhelming. Everything he didn't know. All the things he did but didn't want to. The fear of his own school and his own mind and his own dreams. The way he pulled away from the people who loved him because he didn't want to hurt them. How he turned out to be the person he'd tried to avoid for so long.

All of a sudden his chest felt tight and he couldn't breathe. He tried to swallow, his skin itching, his throat burning, and the sounds of the city were loud as people talked in the back of the bus and horns honked and the world spun. He was getting so dizzy. He wasn't fit to be somewhere so alive. The bus came to a stop, and the doors parted.

He got up and, trying to steady his breathing, slid out the door, past a few people who were climbing on. Starbucks was the closest place with a bathroom so he rushed in, making a little too much noise as he shoved the door open. A few people turned to look, and tears slid down his cheeks as went to find the bathroom. He was so pathetic. He was so tragic.

Urie: come to the starbucks on nv way

Ty: ew why

Urie: don’t ask please just come i’m in the bathroom

Ty: double ew I’ll be there soon

He pocketed his phone again and let out a shuddering breath, pulling his glasses off and trying not to be too loud.

Brendon was hiding his face in his knees when the door swung open for just about the tenth time, who knew how many people needed to use the Starbucks bathroom, but this time it was Tyler who asked if he was okay. He looked up, shaking his head, and he went to sit beside him on the floor, wrapping an arm around him like this were the norm now, except maybe it was.

“How many people have seen you crying on the bathroom floor in the past half hour?” Tyler asked, brushing hair off of Brendon’s forehead as he leaned his head on his shoulder.

“A lot.” He pouted.

Tyler pouted too. “And how many offered you tissues?”

“None. People in Starbucks are mean.” He peeped, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. Tyler chuckled and reached out to get some paper towels from the dispenser above him, bunching them up until Brendon took them and blew his nose, still running from the cold. “Some asked if I’m alright, though. I wouldn’t call this alright.” He sniffled as he wiped his hands off too, feeling gross all of a sudden. “The amount of bathroom floors I’ve cried on in the last three months is astonishing.”

“Yeah, about that, why are you crying on the bathroom floor of Starbucks? You don’t even like Starbucks.”

“Because I had a panic attack on the bus and this was the closest place to go and cry without the entire city seeing me and knowing how pathetic I am.” Brendon shoved the tissues in between his thighs. “Because I’m back to where I was when I was a child. Because I’m scared of everything and I feel so alone and I know I’m not, but it’s so overwhelming. It’s too overwhelming. And it’s like, even when I’m in public I feel so fucking alone. I’m sick of feeling alone.”

Tyler rubbed his arm sympathetically, not really knowing what to say. “Brendon-”

“And I didn’t call Dallon because I wanna give us both space and I’m scared that I’m a burden but I miss him.” He exhaled in a sob and he hadn’t even realized he was crying. “I really fucking miss him, Tyler, and I feel like he hates me now because I’m doing this to him.”

“Brenny bear, stop. You’re not a burden. Not to anyone.” Tyler shushed him, cradling his head in his arms. “And you need to shut up about you and Dallon taking some sort of break, okay? He’s your boyfriend and you need him. You’re crying on the floor of a Starbucks right now, Brendon.”

Brendon cried harder, burying his face in Tyler’s bicep, and the latter sighed because he didn’t know how to help. Tilted his head back against the metal stall and stroked his hair gently, and Brendon knew it was stupid, it was so fucking stupid, but he was making mistakes all around. He didn’t want to make a mistake with Dallon too.

“Can I please take you home? Your house isn’t that far. We’ll walk. Get all this anxious energy out.” He pat his arm and Brendon nodded, fuck, he didn’t want to be here anymore. He wanted his bed. He wanted to go home.

“Yeah.” He pulled away and wiped his cheeks like he were covered in dirt, after having trekked through it with a limp and blood dripping out of a bullet wound. Covered in bruises. Tears. “Yeah. Fuck, I don’t even like Starbucks.”

“I know! Me neither!” Tyler took his hand and hoisted them both up, Brendon grunting quietly and dusting the back of his jeans off. “I lost like, ten cool points for even stepping into this place. I don’t wanna pay six dollars for a coffee. Come on.”

“I know.” Brendon agreed, tears drying uncomfortably on his cheeks, and he checked himself in the mirror. He looked like a wreck, skin blotchy and red, pants dirty, hair disheveled. He shook his head, turned back toward his best friend to pull him into a hug. “You never had any cool points.”

“Shut up, tiny.” Tyler whispered, squeezing him back like it were final before he pulled away and took his hand again, tugging him toward the door. Brendon needed to get the hell out of here, now.

Tyler led him out and waved an apologetic hand at the barista behind the counter before they headed outside, letting the front door fall shut behind him. “It’s fucking freezing.” Brendon muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets and watching a puff of his breath linger just beyond his lips. The sky had faded since he’d gotten off the bus, darkened enough that the streetlights were on above, and Brendon moved closer to his best friend. “Thanks for coming out to get me. I hate how distant and mean I’ve been. I’m a bad friend.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re not. I’ve been distant and mean too. We’re busy, and irritable, and it sucks, but you’ve got a lot going on. A lot a lot. And I know you haven’t been talking to anyone much, anyway.”

“I feel like I annoy everyone I talk to,” Brendon admitted suddenly, and Tyler looked at him but said nothing as they started up the street. “I mean, I’m so scared that I’m bad for Dallon’s mental health, and that I’m a disappointment to my family and that we grew up together and you feel like you can’t get rid of me now, like you feel like I’m an obligation and not somebody you actually want anymore. I’m scared that I mean nothing to everyone.”

Tyler looked at him in disbelief, his breath visible when he sighed. “That’s not true, Bren.”

“Maybe not.” Brendon agreed, but didn’t believe it either way. “But that won’t make me stop thinking it, y’know?”

Tyler clicked his tongue in thought, looking up at the polluted sky over streetlights though some stars still stood out. “I think you’re too hard on yourself.”

“I think I’m going crazy,” Brendon laughed, desperate and pained, and Tyler didn’t even bother trying to force a smile. “I am. I mean, for months I’ve been searching for all these stupid remedies, and nothing works. So taking a break from Dallon was a last resort. It was a way to tell myself that if I keep doing what I’m doing, then I’m gonna lose him. I thought I was doing the right thing. But now I don’t know what the right thing is anymore. I just want my boyfriend back.”

“I don’t think it’s irreparable, Brendon,” Tyler said, honest in a way that Brendon found hard to believe despite itself.

“I think it is.” Brendon reached up to coddle a falling tear. “I think I ruined everything.”

It made sense when he said it because that was how he’d been thinking of it forever. Objectively, needing somebody unconditionally made you a burden. Brendon understood the maxim of people needing you back, utilized it and tried to simplify it for himself because it was hard for him to comprehend. The idea that people would actually need him. He was weak in ways that others weren’t, neurotic to a fault and irreversibly damaged though he was sure he came that way. He was the kind of face on a pamphlet guidance counselors handed out to troubled students. And that devastation had made itself more tangible in recent months, as something that had existed inside of him for nearly two decades without his cognizance. And he was angry, wanted to change it, but had no idea how. It was hard to be ashamed of yourself when there were no other options. He figured he couldn’t really hate himself when this was all he’d ever really known.

Similarly, there was always that prospect of fairytales and the quiet hope they’d come true. There were always those crossed fingers behind your back not because you were lying but because you didn’t want them to see, because when you said “I believe in fairytales,” your peers would laugh. Brendon never did. Before everything he had that same quiet hope, and it was that that had given him unrealistic expectations and just ultimately let him down in the end.

Tethered to this hope Brendon looked at things subjectively, idealistically, believed in silver linings and happy endings. He wanted it to work so desperately that he clung onto a boy who clung onto him right back. But now things were different, and it had not become so much of a choice as it had an obligation. Brendon refused to let him go as Dallon did the same, but in the end it was just going to end up destroying them.

“I don’t think you ruined everything, B.” Tyler said, and Brendon shrugged but didn’t believe it, anyway.

His footsteps scratched the pavement as he walked silently alongside his friend, tears prickling at his eyes though it was far too cold to cry. He had never been so cold. But January was coming to an end, and things would be better, he crossed his heart, promised himself they would be. He needed them to be. He needed a lot of things. He glanced up as the diner grew closer, finally home, he felt like he had been gone for so long. He never wanted to leave again.

He squinted under the streetlights when it all came into view. A familiar figure standing with his hands in his pockets, watching Brendon step carefully across the wet ground, watching his feet so he wouldn’t trip again until he looked up. And something in Brendon’s chest constricted when he took off running, he was so sick of feeling so slow, and enveloped a cold, waiting Dallon in a hug. Only when he wrapped his arms around him did Dallon untuck his hands from his pockets, pulling Brendon against his body like he hadn’t seen him in years.

“I’m sorry.” Brendon whispered, burying his face deep in Dallon’s jacket. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay, Brendon.” He rubbed his shoulder and looked up to stare back at Tyler, exchanging secret vows of protecting Brendon even when he swore they shouldn’t. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Brendon nodded, squeezing him so fucking hard, and he swore he wouldn’t do something so foolish again. He promised himself he wouldn’t. He promised Dallon, too. “Stay.” He said, a demand, never a request, and Dallon nodded, hooked his chin over the top of Brendon’s head protectively.

“Hey, Bren.” Tyler approached him slowly, placed a hand in the center of his back. “I’m gonna go. I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

Brendon nodded, only peeling himself away from Dallon to take his best friend’s hand and squeeze it. “Thank you. For everything. For this.” He nodded his head toward Dallon, who replied with a single kiss on the top of the head, waiting patiently to take him inside. Tyler nodded, and Brendon had to be an inconvenience. There was no way he wasn’t.

“Come on, Bren, you’re freezing.” Dallon whispered when Tyler disappeared and they were left alone, standing under a streetlight in the middle of the winter.

Brendon looked up at the sky, squinting through the night, and nodded.

* * *

“Thanks.” Brendon said simply as he made he and Dallon hot cocoa in the dim light of the kitchen. Dallon looked up from the other side of the counter, and Brendon added, “I mean, for everything. Being patient with me. Being so kind. I know I’ve been difficult and really back and forth but I’m really glad you’re here.”

“We have a lot to talk about, Bren.” Dallon whispered, and Brendon agreed, there was so much he had been meaning to say, he just didn’t know how to find the words to say it. He and Dallon were never easy, he wasn’t expecting them to be, it was just that sometimes it felt too good to be true. Like one good day or even one good conversation would make them indestructible. He wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

“I know we do.” Brendon said, looking down at his socks against the tiled floor, avoiding blue eyes because he was scared what they would say. That maybe over their break, Dallon had decided he’d be better off without him. Brendon just kept making mistakes.

He handed Dallon a mug and they went up to his room silently, not talking because they didn’t know how to start. Brendon was exhausted, and he knew it meant something that Dallon has showed up in the first place, but then again Dallon was always showing up. He closed them in his room, took a seat on his bed, watched Dallon set the mug down on his desk carefully.

“Okay, first of all, I’m gonna shower. Starbucks is fucking gross.” He shook his arms like he couldn’t believe he let Brendon hug him with those germs from the bathroom floor all over them, but Brendon couldn’t find it in him to care. He would shower tomorrow and he could change his sheets while he was at it.

Brendon let out a quiet laugh, anxious but not bothering to tell him. “Okay. You know which towel is mine, right?” Dallon nodded, had showered here before. “Alright. You can use that. Get some clothes if you want, too.”

“Cool. Don't touch my cocoa, Urie.” He pointed at him with mock anger and Brendon smiled, it was nice to have him back, as he went to curl up in bed.

Brendon was half asleep when Dallon came back into his room, wrapped in Brendon’s towel though it was a little smaller around him than it was on a tiny Brendon. Brendon barely averted his gaze while Dallon moved about his room, collecting a pair of sweatpants that were too big on Brendon, a pair of boxers, a tee shirt that smelled like him. Brendon watched him dry his skin and change, things like that were never weird, and Dallon ran the towel through his hair while Brendon sat up and rubbed at his eyes.

“Okay. Let’s talk.” He sighed, climbing into bed and sitting down across from Brendon. “How are you feeling?”

“God, that’s a loaded question these days.” Brendon laughed weakly, it was hardly a joke, and took a sip of his cocoa while Dallon cupped his own in his hands, still warm. “I just... I’m really sorry, Dallon.”

Dallon shook his head reassuringly, brushing it off like nothing. “Don’t be sorry.”

“But I am. I shouldn’t have done that. It was idiotic. It was so stupid. I thought that it would be better for me, but I don’t know. Just feels like I keep fucking up and you’re the one that has to fix me.”

“You don’t need to be fixed, Brendon.” Dallon shoved his knee, eyes sympathetic though Brendon was used to it by now. Brendon shook his head, didn’t believe it at all, and Dallon’s hand settled, running his fingers gently over his knee like maybe he was realizing how fragile he was physically, too. “And it’s okay, you know, if you needed to try to be alone.” He added. “I’m not mad or anything. You tried, you didn’t like it. It doesn’t matter. I‘m here for you. You’re my boyfriend. You’re my best friend. And whenever you need me, I’m gonna be here. Whenever you need a break, the same stands. Our relationship isn’t simple. I never expected it to be.”

“I just resent the fact that I’m so back and forth and you’re not. It’s like you’re a fucking pro at everything. You’re even better and handling mental illness than I am. Not that it’s a competition, or anything. I just... I look up to you, Dal, you know?” He whispered, the words feeling stiff on his tongue because he had waited so long to say them. “After everything you’ve been through, and everything with me, you’re so fucking strong. You’re so put together. You handle things and you get by and you manage and then on top of it you handle me too. You’re like a superhero and meanwhile I can’t ride the bus alone without having a panic attack and calling someone because I can’t deal with anything myself.”

“Brendon, I don’t have it all together.” Dallon said in exasperation, and maybe not, but he pretended so well. “I never have. I just learned how to manage because I’ve been having to for so long. I mean, I got drunk the other day because I was tired of having to think straight. And listen, we’ve never done this before. Taking a break. I didn’t like it either. But it’s not bad that we tried it. I think that it’s important to do things that you think might be good for your mental health.”

“I don’t know what’s good for my mental health. I’m just fucking miserable all the time.” Brendon argued, and that was what he was talking about. At least Dallon knew in the right vein what he was supposed to do. Brendon was just blindfolded in the dark on the edge of a cliff.

“I guess you just... keep trying to find what you want.” Dallon shrugged, tangling their fingers together because he didn’t know what else to tell him. Everything else just seemed like a moot point.

“I don’t know what I want anymore, Dallon.” He whispered, playing with his hand and avoiding his gaze because sometimes it felt easier not to have to look him in the eye when he admitted things he didn’t want to admit. “I thought taking a break would make things clear. Like I would realize that I’m not ruining you, like I would suddenly remember everything good. But it’s so hard to think of the good things when there are so many bad things too.”

Dallon watched him calculatedly, trying to be gentle. “Was that what it was all about? You think you’re ruining me?” He asked, and sometimes it just felt like every word was walking on a tightrope.

“I mean...” He shrugged, but the truth was all there, unhideable, unchangeable. “Yeah. I was scared because sometimes I think that I ruin every good thing that happens to me. So I told you that I wanted to take a break because I feel... disappointing. Like sometimes I get to be so much that I’m just pushing you away. I didn’t want to treat you badly so I thought that maybe taking a break would give you room to breathe.”

Dallon tilted his head and sighed like that were just ridiculous. “Bren, c’mon.”

He shook his head in interruption because Dallon couldn’t argue with this. He couldn’t. Everything was objective. “I’m not who you fell in love with. I’m worried that you’re gonna realize that and not want to be with me anymore. Because I’m different now.”

Dallon watched their hands, fingers tangling together like he didn’t want to ever look away. “What do you mean?”

“I miss being innocent.” Brendon admitted and it hurt to say, pins and needles pain, like it were stabbing his whole body and making him bleed the truth. He used to hate blood. Dallon looked up just in time for him to look away. “I know it’s dumb. But I miss it. Because before all this, I was... me. Brendon Urie, innocent little diner boy. I felt untouched. Free, almost. And I thought that when I had sex I would feel like my body had been tainted but that wasn’t the case. I think that you touched me and made me prettier. Everything you touch turns pretty. I just think that suddenly, everyone else started to realize it too. And I never knew how much I liked being innocent until I wasn’t anymore. It all feels useless now.”

“Honey.” Dallon opened an arm and Brendon blinked out a few tears, leaning into him but not bothering to move his hands to hug him back. “Your innocence was never in vain. I think...” He paused to press a kiss to the top of his head, burying his nose in soft brown hair. “You feel like you’re damaged. Not changed.”

He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, sniffling against Dallon’s neck. “Can’t I be both?”

“Yeah, Brendon, maybe. I don’t know.” He shook his head for a second, lost in thought. “But I think that you don’t have to let things ruin you if you don’t want. I think you need to get back to a place where you feel some semblance of what you felt before, no matter how hard that might be.”

Tears blurred his vision, and maybe things were incomprehensible, anyway. “The problem is, nothing feels the same anymore.”

“And maybe it won’t. But maybe, Bren, maybe it will. That’s why it’s important that you try to find out what’s gonna get you better. Okay?” Wordlessly, Brendon nodded, because he really just didn’t know what else to say anymore. Everything just felt like a stalemate now. “Okay. C’mere. Let’s just lay down. I wanna lay down.”

Brendon nodded again, laying down was a good idea. He didn’t have to think so much. He didn’t have to think about school or work or stress or anxiety, he was just Brendon, laying there with his Dallon, and it was fine. He didn’t have to think. He didn’t want to think. They put their mugs aside and he settled down with his side against the mattress as Dallon pulled him close, pressing his chest to Brendon’s back. Wrapping an arm around him and hooking his chin over his shoulder.

“Ryan told me that you asked about the psych ward.” He whispered suddenly, tucked underneath the covers and warm. Too warm for something so deep rooted and cold. Warily, Brendon nodded, playing with Dallon’s fingertips cautiously. “I’m not mad. I’m just curious. Why do you wanna know?”

“I just... I feel like it’s a part of you. I wanna know every part of you. Even if they’re scary.” Brendon admitted, tasting his words but knowing he wouldn’t regret them. Ryan was right, and some things he just needed to hear from Dallon. “So what was it like? The psych ward?”

“It was scary, at first. Intimidating.” Dallon admitted, tucking a lock of hair behind Brendon’s ear. “I spent a month there. And I was mad that I was there, and I felt like it was useless because I couldn’t change. My roommate Silo told me that you could either be a success story or not and I wanted to be a success story but I didn’t know how. And I still don’t, honestly, but when I was there I was getting the help I needed but I didn’t want it, you know? It’s like... I wanted to stay the way I was because it was comfortable.”

“Silo was your roommate? The one you mentioned last year.” Dallon nodded calmly, brushing Brendon’s hair with his fingers.

“Yeah. And I didn’t get why he was in there because he seemed different, almost. Like he wasn’t sick because he didn’t seem like he was. Because he wasn’t like me.”

“But you can’t always tell.”

“Right. And when I was there I realized how bad I was. I didn’t wanna tell my friends but I did, and Ryan and I had a conversation about what we were. And it made me realize how much I fucked up. And I cut myself, and I had to talk to my therapist about it, and I kept doing it because I don’t know a world where I’m not hurting myself. And they didn’t know after the first time, I was a lot smarter.” He ran his fingers gently over Brendon’s skin, reminding him that this was the past. “But they told me that I had depression, that was why I was doing the things I was doing and acting the way I was, but I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to just be the old me. It took me forever to adjust to the fact that they were right, and I needed help. I just didn’t want to accept it.”

“So... it’s depression. What you have. It’s not anything else.” Brendon whispered, turning over under Dallon’s arm to face him instead with eyes full of curiosity because Brendon always had questions. Dallon nodded, the doctors had considered a few other things before they decided that it was just a convoluted form of depression, something difficult to diagnose at first when he was making it hard for them.

“Yeah. They thought maybe it was borderline, or bipolar disorder, or a bunch of other things, but they said that depression fit me best. Things vary, I guess, but mine is Major Depressive Disorder.”

“Oh. Okay.” Brendon looked down, away from his eyes, and poked mindlessly at the scar on his chin. “I just feel like... when I was reading about symptoms of depression when I was diagnosed, I didn’t recognize any in you. It’s like... we’re so immensely different, and sometimes I try to see it. How your depression is similar to mine. I’m not invalidating yours, I’m just asking, like...”

“Why I don’t actually seem like I have depression?” Dallon interrupted and Brendon nodded, playing with the hem of his tee shirt’s sleeve. “It’s different than yours, Brendon. It’s not as... textbook. Mine is convoluted and it was kind of hard to diagnose, so I had to go to the psychiatrist a bunch of times and figure it out. It’s really complicated. My doctor told me that I have most symptoms of borderline personality disorder but it’s not that extreme. It’s easy to mix up all that stuff when it’s all so similar. So mine is like... more intense emotions. Being impulsive and having unstable relationships and constantly feeling like I’m being abandoned.”

Brendon’s eyebrows knit together in wonder. Sometimes these things were so complicated and scary, and he never really knew how to decipher what was real and what was them. “I still... don’t really see it.”

Dallon nodded, running his fingers through Brendon’s hair idly. “I mean, I used to be a lot worse. Back before I was being helped. It’s not like depression is ever cured, but it’s definitely treatable. I’ve been on my meds consistently for a good amount of time now and it helps. Sometimes it’s worse than others. I’m good at controlling it. It doesn’t affect my life as much as it used to.”

Brendon made a noise of acknowledgment, playing with the collar of his borrowed shirt. “I just can’t really see that in you, is all.”

“That’s probably a good thing.” Dallon whispered, twisting his hair aimlessly. “Look, Bren, I... I wasn’t a good person. For a couple of years I did things to hurt myself and the people I love. I was angry and at the time it seemed so clear, but... I took it out on everyone around me. I went from being okay to being mad to being sad and I didn’t know how to help that. After I went to therapy, I started to get better. Learned mindfulness and how to control myself. A lot of it is the meds, but I try really, really hard not to let it get to me.”

“You said unstable relationships.” Carefully, Dallon nodded. “But we have a stable relationship. For the most part. And when we don’t, it’s my fault.”

“I mean, I think we’ve done okay. When I started dating you my mom sat me down and asked if I really thought I was ready. And I like to think that I’ve been a good partner, but honestly sometimes I’m not so sure. I think that there are aspects of this that I let be controlled by my disorder. I rely on you for a lot, Bren, and I’m constantly scared that you’re gonna leave me. And I’ve been manipulative, hurting myself in front of you and wanting you to feel bad, and I’ve snapped at you. And sometimes I’m better at stopping myself before I get angry but sometimes I haven’t been. I’ve tried but in the end, I still have it, and I’m still gonna show these symptoms.”

“You...” Brendon shifted closer, burying his face in Dallon’s shoulder and inhaling to smell the lavender body wash he used whenever he showered there. It was his mother’s, Brendon always insisted that he use his strawberry but Dallon liked the flowery scent more. “You’re so aware of everything.”

“That’s part of the mindfulness, I guess. Knowing everything that’s going on inside of me. It feels like I know what’s going on until it’s happening, and then I’m just so fucking guilty about it. It feels like I’m detached sometimes, almost, and it’s terrifying.”

“I’m sorry.” Brendon ran his hand down blindly to take Dallon’s, tangling their fingers together. “I hate when you’re scared.”

“I do too. I hate not knowing completely what’s going on with me, and being constantly afraid of fucking things up with you, because I don’t want to. And I know this is gonna sound like a product of my mental illness, I promise it’s not, but I need you, Brendon.” He admitted, and after all of it Brendon still didn’t think that was wrong. Because he needed Dallon too. Maybe less mentally but he needed him, perfectly healthily but still. “And I can’t promise that’s always going to be a good thing.”

“Then we’ll take it one step at a time, I guess.” He whispered, bringing up his free hand to run his fingers over Dallon’s arm aimlessly, giving him chills when cold fingertips touched bare skin. “And we’ll figure things out together. And I’ll try to keep in mind that mentally, we’re really different. I’ll try to remember this.”

“Good. That’s a good idea.” Dallon turned his head, pressed his lips against Brendon’s forehead. “I’m sorry we haven’t been talking.”

Brendon shook his head minutely. “It’s not your fault.”

“I pushed you away.”

“I pushed you away.” Brendon countered, lacking malice or harshness. Just whispered words against the crook of his shoulder, and Dallon sighed, wanted to argue but didn’t. “I did, Dal, cause I was scared that I was fucking things up. I wanted to protect you. Figure myself out first.”

“And I thought that was a good idea, I forget sometimes that you don’t always have to be completely attached to me, but I think we didn’t talk enough about this. About us deciding to stop being so reliant on each other. You have to get to know yourself through your illness, and I need to step back from that. Give you space to do that.”

Brendon blinked out a tear and whispered, “I don’t wanna break up.”

“No, baby.” Dallon shook his head, wrapping an arm around his back to pull him into a hug. “I don’t wanna break up either.”

“The past few days barely speaking to you were horrible and I thought that maybe being alone for a minute would help me realize how to handle myself better so that I didn’t hurt you as much but not being able to call you about every little thing was so scary. Like I was realizing what it would be like without you in my life. I saw a cloud shaped like a cat riding a bike the other day and got so excited but I didn’t know if I could call.” He cried, and Dallon laughed against the top of his head, stroking his hair and praying that this was the worst of it. “I love how close we are. I don’t think it has to be bad.”

“No, you’re right.” Dallon kissed his temple and Brendon pulled away, wiping stupid tears off of his cheeks because he was already fragile enough today and he knew at some point tonight he’d cry again. For a second he was quiet, thinking, and Brendon stared at him, lost. “I... do you think we have communication issues?” He asked, and Brendon searched his eyes. “Like, maybe we aren’t talking about important things? Because I know that there are a lot of things we talk about, but I feel like... you go to everyone else when you want to talk about me but you don’t ask me. I want you to feel like you can trust me enough to ask the questions you want answers to. And I know sometimes I have trouble trusting you, but I think maybe it’s because we’ve been having trouble talking.”

“You might be right.” Brendon nodded, sniffling, and Dallon twisted their fingers together aimlessly again. “So how do we fix that?”

Dallon shrugged, liked that Brendon turned to him when he didn’t know though Dallon didn’t really know himself. He’d never had a successful long-term relationship with anyone before so this was kind of unfamiliar to him. “I guess just... keep talking to me. Ask me what you want to know. I’ll do the same. And if we think there’s a problem then we tell each other and we work it out because that’s what good partners do.”

“Okay, yeah.” Brendon agreed, and maybe that was the problem. That he was always scared of what Dallon would say so he had to beat around the bush. He hadn’t meant to go around digging when he could have gone straight to the source, it was just that it seemed easier not having to ask when he didn’t know exactly what reaction he’d get. “I didn’t mean to go behind your back, Dal. Seriously. I just... worry sometimes, about whether or not I’m gonna ask the wrong thing.”

“I don’t think you will, Bren. I think you should just ask, and we’ll take it from there.” Dallon hugged his shoulders and Brendon buried his face in his neck, honesty was a good idea, and let his eyes fall shut. He nodded, vowed not to let worry get in the way, and Dallon settled down when Brendon made himself comfortable, sleepy again because even if it was just for a minute, everything was copacetic.

“I hate not spending time with you,” Brendon sighed against his chest, sliding his fingers underneath Dallon’s shirt and touching his bare back with his hands. If Dallon didn’t know better he would suggest that Brendon was trying to entice him. He slipped his hand under Brendon’s sleeve to rub at his arm mindlessly.

“I know. It sucks.” Dallon whispered, leaning forward to bury his nose in Brendon’s hair. “Let’s just... not do that again, okay? If you need space then we’ll figure out a better way to do it. We’ll be more honest about it.”

“I like that plan.” Brendon yawned, and then Dallon did too, and Brendon watched because Dallon always looked like a bunny when he yawned and he was just so fucking cute and he didn’t want to ever give this up. “I love you, Dallon.” He whispered. “So much it hurts.”

“I love you,” Dallon said softly, fingers in Brendon’s hair, and Brendon let himself close his eyes.


	47. Chapter 46: Sins Like Suicide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another one of my all time favorite things I've ever written. I adore this chapter. Big TW and weird time jumps, but it's a past chapter showing a few different periods of time!

“Do you wanna hold my hand?”

His sneakers squeaked on the linoleum floor when he stepped away, the reflection of the artificial lighting blinding as his gaze traced the frayed shoelaces tied half-heartedly. They’d take them away, anyway. That’s what he read online after the doctors talked to him. Psychiatric hospitals did that. Made him give them his phone and keys and wallet and whatever, too. He didn’t get what for. Was it possible to hang yourself on your shoelaces? Maybe that would have ended up being more effective, after all.

“No.”

A white noise machine hummed somewhere in the distance as he shifted his weight. This was dumb. He shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t going to cure him. In seven days from now he was going to step outside into the cool, fresh air, and he was going to close his eyes and feel the sunshine on his skin and in the end, he was still going to want to kill himself. The only difference was that when he got out, he’ll have talked to a bunch of professionals about why he shouldn’t want to kill himself.

He’d like to see them try, anyway.

“Okay, Dallon. Do you know what you’re here for?”

He looked up dully, his mother standing beside him resisting the urge to put a hand on his shoulder. He could do this himself, anyway. He did everything himself. “Let me take a wild guess.”

She looked between Dallon and his mother, clearly distressed though this couldn’t be the worst case she’d ever seen. She had to see dozens of kids like him a day. “Alright. I’ll just explain briefly what we do here. You’ll have a roommate; we’ve placed you with someone your age so you’re more comfortable. Lights out at ten thirty, at ten a.m. you’ll get your meds and lunch is at twelve thirty. You-“

Dallon looked away as she spoke, voice echoing in his ears like she was shouting it from a way’s away, distant and almost waterlogged. He didn’t care. He didn’t, and that was the truth. What good was this gonna do? A month in the loony bin, away from home and his friends and his life. His life he tried to take away from him. Right. Yeah, he knew why he was here.

“Got it?” She asked suddenly, and Dallon glanced up again, having drifted off. Lights out, lights on, meds, lunch, therapy, blah blah blah. He got it.

“Uh-huh.”

“Excellent. You can say your goodbyes, and I’ll show you to your room.” She tried to smile like it would do him any good and he looked away again, this time at his mother. Tears pooled in her eyes and she pulled him into a hug, almost forcing him to hug her back. He just wanted to go home.

“I love you, Dals. Be good, be safe, I’ll come visit. Call me every day.” She whispered, flattening his hair with her fingers.

“I will.” He pulled away, let her thumb his cheek. Well, after everything, he was still alive. Wasn’t that the real goal? Not for him, he guessed, but not everyone was on that same level. “Can you do me a favor?” Wide eyed, she nodded. “Can you leave me Ryan and Josh’s numbers when I call? I’ll call tonight. I know your number by heart. Not theirs.”

“Of course, baby. I love you. I love you.” She kissed the top of his head and he told her he loved her too before he was whisked away to his room, where he’d spend the next month of his life wondering why the hell he let this happen. Maybe he didn’t try hard enough. Maybe he tried too hard.

“So this is your room.” She guided him into a little prison like room with gray walls, as good as a cell, with two twin beds on opposite sides of the room. A closet for each, one side table in the middle, it felt like some dingy little dorm room except without the parties. The loneliness, the misery, though, that was all there. “There are no doors, as you can probably see. We do that to keep you safe. We’ll be able to monitor you easily that way. Your roommate is out right now, probably in the rec room. It’s arts and crafts hour right now. Your mother told me you’re an artist, so you might enjoy that. I’ll leave you to get settled, here’s your bag.” She set his bag down on the bed. “I think we’re gonna help you a lot, Dallon.”

He really, really doubted that. “I hope so.”

She nodded respectfully at him, she really had no idea, and disappeared to leave him alone in the unfamiliar room. Maybe he was this way because everything was so unfamiliar. Maybe he was reaching. He took a seat on the bed, on top of an uncomfortable mattress that was freshly made for his arrival, and wondered how many people came and gone. A place like this had to have a lot of residents. Dallon couldn’t see why anybody wouldn’t want to kill themselves.

He was just poking mindlessly at the wall when a boy with short, curly brown hair stopped in the doorway, startled. “Oh. Hi. You must be the new guy. They didn’t tell me your name.”

“Yeah. Um. I’m Dallon.” He didn’t bother sticking out his hand, just forced a smile. He was an only child, never had to share a room. He always felt somewhat spoiled, in that regard. “I gather you’re my roommate.”

“You gather correctly. Silo.” This time, he stuck out his hand, and it felt like it took all of Dallon’s energy to stick his own out to shake it. He felt like he were submerged underwater. He should have been. “Sorry I’m kinda sticky. They had glue at craft hour. Can’t resist a mess.” He stuck his fingers together like a child and smiled as Dallon nodded, retreating back into his bed a little. He didn’t feel like talking. “I’m gonna go wash my hands. I’ll be back.”

Dallon nodded again, didn’t affect him anyway, and sat awkwardly on the freshly made bed, running his fingers over the sheets. There were bars on the windows and, as the nurse had pointed out, no doors, just an empty doorway that looked out into the brightly lit hallway, where nurses did their rounds at night and made sure everything was fine. But they all knew where they were. Was anything around here fine?

He was just examining a few fingernail shaped scratches in the wall when Silo returned and, as if he hadn’t been gone at all, asked, “How long are you here for?”

Dallon glanced at him while he pulled the messy sheets back on his bed and started to smooth out the creases. He felt weak, tired. How long had it been? “A month.”

“Oh.” He shrugged, a little surprised. Dallon wondered how long was normal for a place like this. What if he had to stay longer than a month? A month was a long time. “A month’s not bad at all. It’s just like, one week four times. That’s how I divide my time here. Four one weeks.”

Something in Dallon’s stomach churned. He shouldn’t be here at all. He should be home, or... or where he should be. Gone. None of this mattered anymore. This wasn’t gonna help him. Didn’t anyone understand? “That’s my last name.”

Silo looked at him, eyebrows furrowed, as he started to fold the sheets in his arms. “Huh?”

“Weekes. It’s my last name. I. Um.” He looked down at his lap, twisting the ring on his finger awkwardly. He shouldn’t have expected anything more. Of course he couldn’t do it. He never did anything right. “I got it from my dad.”

Silo half smiled like it were obvious, and it was. But Dallon didn’t let himself think of it, sometimes. “Most people do.”

“He just died.” Dallon added, throat closing around the words he had only spoken out loud once or twice, never feeling easier than the last. “That’s why I’m here. Cause he died, and I started acting out, and then I tried to kill myself so my doctors sent me here cause I’m still high risk.”

Silo’s eyebrows skipped high on his face like he’d never heard of such a thing, though in this place it had to be common. “Oh, shit. Sorry about your dad.”

Dallon shrugged. Nothing he could do about it. “Thanks. And it’s weird, cause I used to hate my last name. In elementary school everyone called me Dallon Months and they thought it was hilarious but it was really annoying. Now I’m here, and it’s one of those things. You don’t really appreciate it until you have a reason to.”

“Dallon Months.” He chuckled to himself, but years later and it still wasn’t funny. “It’s kinda funny. I mean, you’re stuck with your name forever, unless you change it, but that’s a dumb thing to do. I like it. Dallon. It’s unique.” He put his hands up like he were pictured it up in lights, as if Dallon would ever get that far.

“So is Silo. I like it.” Dallon turned again, leaning on his half-bent leg. “Where’s that from?”

Silo shrugged, Dallon saw it out of the corner of his eye. “I made it up.”

Dallon blinked at him from where he was trying to flatten his pillow. How was he supposed to sleep with one pillow? He thought they wanted people to be comfortable. “What?”

“I made it up. I’m trans.” He shrugged again like it were nothing, maybe it wasn’t, and Dallon shifted his weight again, couldn’t seem to get comfortable. He seriously couldn't sleep on this bed for a month. He missed his mattress, his own four walls, his own belongings. “I was born a girl. So I changed my name to something weird and random just cause. I think it’s fitting.”

“Oh.” Dallon said a moment too late to hide his surprise, but he didn’t flinch, just half smiled and went back to folding the sweatshirt in his hand. Dallon wondered if it got cold at night. Maybe he would ask his mom to drop off his sweatshirt tomorrow. “That’s cool. That you named yourself. My parents called me Dallon cause of the head of the Mormon church. I’m a Mormon.”

Silo laughed like it were a joke, and sometimes Dallon thought that too. But he still had scriptures on his phone, and he still prayed every day, even as he felt himself disconnecting from the church. It was still him, he guessed, even when he felt like it wasn’t. “You’re not gonna, like, hail Mary me, are ya?”

“That’s Catholicism.” Dallon looked down at his lap, playing with his ring again, and Silo hummed, nodding slow. Dallon forgot sometimes that people didn’t know this stuff. It felt burnt into his brain, sometimes. “So. You’re my age, right?” He added quietly, glancing up to catch brown eyes look back at him.

“I am.”

“So like... how’d you know?”

Silo smiled, it probably wasn’t an out of the ordinary question, but Dallon felt bad asking, anyway. But he felt like there were some things Google didn’t tell him, and at a time like this who really knew what was wrong and what was right? “I just did, man. It’s hard to explain. I just realized that I wasn’t a girl. It wasn’t like this sudden shift or this gradual change. I just knew. It’s the same as you knowing that you’re a boy.”

“Oh.” Dallon looked back down at his lap, twisting his ring off thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t wanna be a girl, I don’t think.”

“I didn’t either.” Silo laughed, and Dallon felt less bad about asking. Sometimes he didn’t feel whole, and sometimes he wondered if there was something wrong with him. Something that could be attributed to such a visceral piece of him missing, though at this point who knew? He didn’t know who he was. He doubted that would ever change. “So, Dallon Months. Does that bruise on your jaw have anything to do with the acting out thing?”

“What?” He reached up to press his fingertips to his skin, where a dull ache resounded up his jawline. And he’d almost forgotten, the past few weeks... “Oh. Um, yeah.” He lightened the pressure, grazed his fingers across his skin gently. “My... um, my best friend that I have a crush on punched me in the face.”

He hissed sympathetically, empathetically, Dallon didn’t know. “Jesus. What did you do to her?”

“Him. He’s a boy.” Dallon smiled sheepishly, sadly, and all of a sudden he realized how stupid this was. He missed Ryan. He missed Josh, too. And his mom, even though she let them whisk him away. And he missed his life before all this. He missed himself. “He found out I was self-harming and I told him that no one cared about me and he punched me in the face. I should have saw it coming, but... y’know.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighed, going back to pulling the covers back on his bed. It was uncomfortable, like one of those shitty plastic mattresses that nobody actually found comfortable, so why were they still making them? Why couldn’t they save the resources for something better? And why did they give them to people who already wanted to kill themselves? “They won’t let you get away with stuff like that in here. Saying you don’t matter, self-harming... you’ll see.”

“Oh.” He didn’t know what he was expecting. He wasn’t gonna get away with smoking in here and he didn’t really know what else to do. He didn’t even know how he’d sneak it. Not that he needed it, but it’d be nice to know, anyway.

“You know, I suddenly like you so much more.” Silo added, and Dallon glanced at him, letting it cross his mind that this was only the first day. The first day, and there would be more.

“Why?”

“I don't know.” He shrugged, smiled. “Us queers always seem to find each other.” He added like they were in on some secret. And maybe they were, but Dallon wasn’t sure he knew that yet. He’d never used that word about himself. It felt cursed, wrong, offensive. Even if he never thought so.

He guessed he had to learn something in here.

“Yeah, I guess.” Dallon pulled his knees to his chest, heels on the edge of the mattress, suddenly tired. “I don’t really know what I am.” He admitted as a second thought, because it felt like nothing was secret in here. He wasn’t sure how he felt about living in a place where there weren’t secrets.

“Well, you don’t have to know. You’re young.” Silo shrugged. “Hey, it’s almost time for dinner. Come to the cafeteria, I’ll introduce you to everyone.” He waved him toward the door, and Dallon wasn’t even hungry, he swore he wouldn’t be able to keep it down if he tried, but he got up anyway. A month. A month, and he didn’t know if he would be able to do it.

* * *

What kind of monster thought it was a good idea to make people in a psych ward have to sleep with the lights on? Dallon didn’t understand. He’d been laying awake for what felt like hours, staring at the light reflecting on the ceiling and letting his mind wander because he couldn’t fall asleep. It wasn’t that he wasn’t trying, or that he wasn’t tired, it was just one of those things, where his brain tried to trick him into thinking it was the middle of the day. Sometimes his mind was completely against him.

He shifted on his side slowly, trying not to make any noise, but the mattress crinkled and creaked and Silo made a noise of distress across the room. “You’re still awake?”

Startled, Dallon turned to look at him, nodding carefully. “I can’t sleep with the lights on. I never have.”

“You get used to it.” He pulled the blanket up to his chin and sighed. “It’ll go by fast, Dallon. Just try and chill. I know you’re freaked out.”

“Yeah.” Dallon curled up with a mewl and tucked himself under the covers, unnecessarily cold because of the central air conditioning. Silo sighed and rolled over, and Dallon felt bad for waking him, or maybe keeping him up. He stretched his arm under the pillow, trying to turn away from the light.

Nurses did the rounds, making sure no one snuck out or needed an escort to the bathroom, and faint chatter could be heard between them in the halls when Dallon lulled in and out of consciousness. His body ached with exhaustion, he wasn’t sure he’d even gotten more than ten minutes in at a time before footsteps in the hall and flashes of light caught his attention.

He woke up to the same bright lights and the same linoleum floors, like something out of a bad movie. It was like a reverse nightmare, waking up and realizing that the world in his head was so much better than this one. He turned over onto his side, and Silo was still in bed, fist tucked cutely against his nose all cozy under the duvet. Dallon wondered what kind of clarity he needed to sleep that well.

He didn’t know how long he had stared at the wall, but eventually he heard footsteps coming from down the hall, people beginning their days, going to brush their teeth and grab breakfast. He wasn’t hungry. Silo’s sudden yawn caught Dallon’s attention and he turned again, watching his roommate stretch and groan as he arched his back up toward the ceiling. “Morning.”

“Morning.” Dallon pushed his blanket down despite the cool draft in the room, the air conditioning unit somewhere in the ceiling.

Silo wasted no time in climbing out from under the covers, not bothering to mention Dallon’s rolling around all night. “Got any plans for the day?”

“My mom’s visiting in a couple of hours. I should get up and shower.” Dallon yawned, though he made no attempt to move as he arched his shoulders in a stretch. He didn’t sleep well, he tossed and turned and had nightmares that woke him up every hour. He knew he had to get used to it, but it felt impossible somehow.

“She’s visiting already? It’s day two.” Silo swung his legs over the bed, bare feet hitting the white floor. Just watching made cold sensations slide up Dallon’s spine.

“Yeah. She insisted.” He shrugged because he didn’t really think twice about it. That was just what moms did. Wasn’t it? She had promised to bring a sweatshirt when he called the night before, along with his sketchbook and a photo with his friends to tape on the wall above the bed. He needed something to watch over him because it didn’t seem safe otherwise.

“So you get along with your mom?”

Dallon shrugged, never really let it cross his mind. He had too much to think about already. He rolled onto his back and rested his wrist against his forehead, staring apathetically at the ceiling because that was a little complicated, he guessed. “She doesn’t understand me.” He said, not answering the question but not not answering it.

“You and every other teenager.” He rolled his eyes. “For real. You ever get hit around? Yelled at? Ever had a bottle thrown at you?” Wordlessly, Dallon shook his head. “Then you’re not doing too bad.” He said, and it left Dallon staring, wondering, until he added, “Go shower, Dallon Months.”

Dallon didn’t know what to say, wasn’t sure if there was some past he wasn’t allowed to ask about. In here, it felt okay to ask each other about whatever was under the surface. Illness, pasts, skeletons and ghosts and demons. It was funny that every word for secret came in the variant of some monster. It meant a lot more than he could put into words.

“Okay.” He peeped, unsteady and nervous, suddenly.

“Okay. I’m gonna go get breakfast.” He nodded his head toward the doorway, perhaps an invitation if Dallon was desperate enough. “I’ll save you a spot.”

“I might not be that quick.” Dallon warned, but Silo shrugged anyway.

“That’s okay. I’ve got nowhere else to be.” He shrugged. A lot of living in a psych ward was leisure time, he guessed, in the game room or the arts and crafts room or hiding from everyone in your doorless room, though that seemed to be inefficient as people always found you. “Hey, you have therapy yesterday?”

“Yeah.” He looked down as he climbed out of bed and went to find his shower bag. He didn’t want to talk to a therapist. He told his mom that he wouldn’t. But she was nice, she had to be, she introduced herself and let him talk about his dad, his inability to find a safe way to cope, how he self-harmed instead of getting help because he didn’t care enough to. How after he attempted, he told his mom about burning himself, about how he wanted to die because he was sick of feeling so empty.

“How was it?” Silo asked, maybe a little invasively, but everyone here was invasive. Dallon didn’t know what was and wasn’t okay to ask.

He grabbed his towel and held it to his chest. “Fine. I don’t really like talking to people, but...”

“Alright, alright, note taken. I won’t make you talk to anybody at breakfast. Go shower.” And with that he disappeared, leaving Dallon to stare at the open doorway.

* * *

Dallon stared at the shower stall in front of him, hyperaware of the fact that this was a co-ed shower where people of all ages and genders would probably be looking at him, judging him, and he tried to kill himself for a reason, hello. This was the total opposite of what he wanted. This was too real, too honest. He liked hiding. He didn’t like feeling so... exposed. Naked. In more ways than one.

“Do you think it’s gonna bite?”

Dallon turned to look at the source of the voice, a girl a few feet away, startled by her presence. “What?”

She laughed cheekily, bright despite herself, wrapped in a pink robe and looking like she wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as Dallon was. “The shower. I mean, our water pressure isn’t great, but it’s nothing to be scared of.”

He let out a noise, probably supposed to be a laugh but just sounding distressful, and shrugged his shoulders, clutching his towel around his body like a veil. “I, um. I’m not used to showering around people.” He admitted, and he felt more naked than he already was. Why didn’t he bring a robe or something? He needed to ask his mother to bring him one. He never knew how reliant on his parents he was until...

She smiled at him, playing with the fuzzy string around her waist. “It’s just like showering in dorm rooms. Nothing to it, except water and exposed flesh and whatnot.”

God. “I’ve never been in a dorm.” He said, shifting his weight and gearing up to do it. How bad could showering be? It was just being naked around strangers. Nothing to it. “I’m fifteen.”

“Seriously? Jeez.” She reached into the shower and twisted the faucet, half smiling to herself like it were a joke. “You’re tall.”

“Five eight. That’s not tall. My doctors say I’ll probably be like, over six feet or something.” He shrugged again, and when she pulled her hand back, he watched her push her sleeves up to the elbow to test the water’s temperature. He couldn’t avert his gaze away from the scars that littered her arms, up her wrist and forearms, some fresher than others. Not the same as the single burn on his left forearm, so not the same, but they both made his body ache, anyway.

“Yeah, well. Tall compared to me. I’m short.” And she was. Probably five one, but definitely older than Dallon, in her late teens if the comment about dorms meant anything. He shrugged again, knew that for his age that probably was pretty tall. “Go ahead. No one else is in here. You don’t have to worry about it.” She nodded toward the shower, and it wasn’t like Dallon had anything to hide, any horrible disfigurations or serious scars, no visible self-harm save for the fading mark he’d left on his skin. He just didn’t like his body, was all.

“Okay.” He sighed, and maybe this wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Maybe it all could have been worse. Maybe he just had to try not to be so bitter. It wasn’t who he was, who he felt like he could be, but he could try.

He stepped into the shower, tugging his towel off once the door was closed and locked. He hung his towel up outside the door, awkwardly reaching, and twisted the faucet on. Jumping a little at the ice-cold water, it took a second to warm up, but when it did he arched into it, let himself feel it. His therapist told him to be mindful. To think about sensations when he needed something to concentrate on. He didn’t think about this, about how he was showering in a psych ward, about his family or friends or how in a few weeks he would be starting high school. He didn’t think about therapy or antidepressants or cigarette burns or cuts on arms. He didn’t think at all, for once.

And as the water slid down his body, he tilted his head up, squinted blurry eyes at the shower head and reached up to scrub at his neck. He loved showering. He loved getting clean, feeling like he could wash parts of him away, like every time he stepped out of the shower he was suddenly a new person, a new and improved Dallon. Idealistic, sure, it was one of the only parts of him that was. He loved that time alone, the feeling of water on his skin. He loved showering.

Stepping out of the shower and somehow feeling new didn’t seem idealistic this time. It felt honest, raw, brutal. Because he realized that for one more time— it wouldn’t be his last, he’d come to find the following years— he had cheated death. Tricked it and teased it and somehow got another breath of life. And that wasn’t what he wanted, and that wasn’t what would initially make him realize that he wanted to live, but it was a step in the right direction.

One step onto wet, tiled floor, and one step toward not just feeling new, but being it.

* * *

Dallon had danced around it for a while, tried to figure out how exactly to say it. There were so many words and only a few to tell them what was wrong. Or maybe none, because he couldn’t seem to construct any. It was like he had to search for them himself. That had never happened before. But sometimes things were too hard to say. Sometimes not saying them was so much easier, even when it meant lying. And it was times like those that people started to search for a miracle.

He called Josh first.

The lesser of two evils, he figured as he dialed the vaguely familiar phone number off the sticky note in front of him, scribbled in his own handwriting. Josh would never get it, probably the happiest person Dallon had ever met, but somehow it just seemed easier. Like practice, because he could take it from Josh, he knew that it was all in good nature. He wasn’t so sure he could take it from Ryan.

He clutched the phone tight in his grip, leaning against the wall, and spilled everything. What happened, the hospital, being admitted, whispering to his doctor that he wished he was dead. Refusing treatment though his mother coaxed him into it, promised it would do him good. It wasn’t so far, but what did he know? Maybe he would come out changed. He wasn’t so sure.

He didn’t let himself cry. Told the truth, swore he would be alright, told him then that he was probably lying. And Josh was just that kind of person, who calmed him down. That was why he needed to talk to him first. Sometimes it felt like he was the only one that could manage to do that. He leaned his head back against the wall, swallowed thickly. Told him he loved him and that he would call later, he had someone else to call.

It took him five minutes to conjure up the courage to call Ryan. He had spent so many weeks lying that he was forgetting how to tell the truth. But he dialed the number slowly, feeling it, the buttons, Ryan, just in case. He leaned against the wall, his entire right side against it, and looked down aimlessly when he heard the call connect. A confused voice asked, “Hello?”

“Ryan. Hi.” He breathed out, and he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath.

He recognized his voice immediately. “Dallon, hi, what number is this? This isn’t yours.”

“Yeah, I know.” He played with the phone cord aimlessly, trying to figure out what to say. It wasn’t as simple now. It felt like every word had dissipated on his tongue and it was dry, felt like sandpaper. “Um, I have something to tell you. Like, something serious.”

Ryan swallowed thickly on the other line. They felt estranged, all of a sudden, like it had been so long since they’d been on the same side. And maybe it had felt like that for a while, and Dallon was sick of not having people on his side. He just wanted to get back to a place where he wasn’t constantly disappointing. “Okay.”

“Okay. Um.” He looked down again, ducking his head so that his hair fell in his eyes. He didn’t know how to say it now that he had already. It felt numb on his tongue, the words I tried to kill myself. Like they were detached, not really his. This made a lot of sense, in a way. Because sometimes he felt detached himself. Sometimes his body didn’t really belong to him. He wished it would just decide what it wanted. “You’re my best friend.”

Ryan sighed. “I know, Dal, you’re mine too, but you’re kind of freaking me out. Are you-“

“I’m in a psych ward.” He blurted, and Ryan stopped, said nothing because Dallon wouldn’t give him the chance. “That’s this number. It’s a psych ward. At the hospital. Cause I’m, like, really depressed. And, like, a few days ago I, um. I tried to kill myself. So they sent me here.”

“Oh.” He peeped, and Dallon didn’t know what else to say so he didn’t say anything, just stared down at his socks and breathed, and then Ryan took in a shuddering breath.

“Ry.” He sighed, turned to lean his back against the wall. “Ryan, don’t cry. You’re gonna make me cry.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ryan whispered, voice strained, and Ryan didn’t cry. Not anymore. Dallon hadn’t meant for this to happen.

“No, it’s not you. I promise. It’s just that everything is too much sometimes and like, I feel like I can’t do it. And I’m scared. And I want everything to stop.” He tilted his head back and Ryan sniffled on the other line. Dallon never wanted to hurt anybody. “I’m sorry.”

“Dal, you can’t. I’m sorry, and I love you, and I need you, and you can’t-“

“I’m not going anywhere, Ryan.” Dallon assured him quietly, and Ryan took in another shuddering breath. “I promise I’m not. It was dumb, and I... I’m gonna be fine, I think. Please don’t blame yourself, and don’t worry about me, and I... I’ll be fine.”

“I hate when you do that.” Ryan said, shaking his head even though Dallon couldn’t see. He’d always done it, pretended to be strong. He always tried to be the person he thought everybody needed him to be. “Stop acting like everything is okay all the time. The past two months have been the worst months of your life. I want you to just... fucking feel that. Stop bottling things up. If you keep bottling everything up then shit like this is gonna happen.” It wasn’t malicious, just the truth, and Dallon slid down the wall to sit on the floor with his knees against his chest, said nothing because Ryan had this way of always being scary right. “Please, Dallon, you don’t have to pretend. Not with me. Not everything is okay.”

“It’s so much easier pretending that everything is fine.” Dallon whispered, not wanting to admit the truth but forcing it off his tongue. The truth was that everything was so much easier when he didn’t let himself feel. When he was sneaking into gay bars and sneaking out at night, never where he was supposed to be. Now he was where he was supposed to be.

“I know, but you can’t, Dallon. It’s not healthy. You see where it got you.” Dallon squeezed his eyes shut, hated that he had a point. “I want you safe, Dallon. You’re my best friend and I want you safe and alive and happy.”

“I’m not happy.”

“I know, but...” He swallowed thickly, and Dallon listened carefully. “I need you, Dal. I want you to be okay. I love you.”

It didn’t mean what Dallon meant, sometimes. Because he didn’t know what it was, the feeling of being protected, having somebody care about him so viscerally. Knowing someone like the back of his hand. He didn’t know what it was, and sometimes it felt easier not to know. He tried not to let himself cry; he swore he didn’t want to hurt anyone.

He wanted to have succeeded, left gracefully and without a mess. He wanted to stop feeling. He wanted to stop mourning and resenting his mother and tearing apart his friendships and getting mixed signals, he wanted to stop confusing friendship with love in ways they shouldn’t mix. He wanted to stop hating his body and his mind and his life, how he managed to ruin everything. He couldn’t even kill himself right. He was a failure.

All of a sudden, an old woman with a cane emerged from a room down the hall and approached slowly, looking like she was about to make a call. He figured he’d monopolized the phone long enough, and he was probably done talking, anyway. He didn’t exactly know what words wouldn’t betray him now. “Hey, Ry, I gotta go.” He said quietly, pushing himself back up to stand.

Ryan exhaled, quiet and shaky, because he wasn’t done. “Dallon.”

“Text my mom, she’ll give you the address. Visiting hours are twelve to four.” He said, and hung up before Ryan could respond. But he knew he’d see him. He knew he’d be there. The woman stopped on the other side of the phone, smiling patiently, and he turned to her and stuck out his hand. “Hi, I’m Dallon.”

She shook his hand. “Mabel.”

“Hi, Mabel. Um. Do you have a chapel here?” She nodded, looking pleased that a young boy would want to turn to religion in his time of need, and told him that just down the staircase around the corner was a little chapel, probably empty by now. He set out to find it, didn’t bother to go back to his room to find shoes.

He’d been to a hospital’s chapel before, but never one in a psych ward. It was nicer than he’d expected, for a place full of crazy people. He stepped quietly down the center, walking in a straight line if only to prove to himself he could do it. He could.

He hadn’t been to church in weeks. He wasn’t sure he’d ever want to set foot in one again.

It felt wrong. Because how could he believe in a God that took his father away from him? How could he believe in a God that preached love but turned His back on kids like Dallon, a little lost, sad and scared and curious? He needed that support now more than ever. He just couldn’t find any.

It felt stupid familiar. The wood floors, the stained glass, the pews and the pedestal and the statues. Maybe a little smaller than he was used to, but a chapel all the same. A church. It felt haunted or something, like God himself was waiting to grab Dallon by the shoulders and pull him into the confessional. Suicide was a sin, they said. So maybe that meant he was going to hell.

He turned to look at Jesus on the cross hanging up at the front of the room, and maybe he deserved to.

“How was your day, Dallon?” Silo asked that evening, and the thing about the psychiatric ward was that Dallon had no idea what that question was supposed to mean. Because in therapy it meant are you improving? Did you have any mental breakdowns? What about breakthroughs? How many times did you think about killing yourself today? Maybe we should delve deeper. And out in the real world it just meant how was your day, did you do anything interesting, how eventful was it?

But people didn’t ask such trivial things in here, Dallon came to discover in his time here, while short lived so far. But they didn’t dance around things, either. It felt like everyone in this place was just sardonic, saying blatant truths that would make any normal person uncomfortable. Well, Dallon didn’t think he was normal. Normal people chase survival. He was trying to defy it.

“Okay.” He decided on.

“I guess okay isn’t too bad for the looney bin.” He half smiled, lopsided, and plopped down on his bed like he’d been waiting all day. Probably exhausted, after a long few hours of therapy and arts and crafts and board games. He’d invited Dallon, but Connect Four wasn’t exactly a challenge and it hardly helped him take his mind off things.

“I guess not.” He sighed, wondered if maybe things would have gone better in another lifetime. “I told my friends today.” He added suddenly, and Silo glanced up from where he was smoothing out the covers on his bed. “I don’t know what I was expecting. I wasn’t gonna tell them, but... I felt like I was lying to them. I didn’t wanna lie anymore.”

“That’s very noble of you, Dallon.”

“Mhm.” He rolled onto his back, frowned up at the ceiling. There were no stars. Nothing to wish on. It was unnerving, and he had to look away before it got to his head. It was easy to let that happen in here, you know. “They’re upset. Not surprised, which is kind of sad if you think about it, but they’re upset. I hate that.”

Silo shrugged, but Dallon guessed it didn’t really matter to anybody else. It didn’t have to. This was his mess. He was the one that had to clean it up once the damage was done. “You can’t control other people’s emotions.”

“No, but you can influence them,” Dallon reasoned, shrugging half-heartedly when he looked at him. “Manipulate them. Isn’t that what it’s all about?”

“Depends on how you look at it.” He said, and Dallon wondered if maybe he looked at it all wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I think I look at it like I’m not a victim cause I brought this all on myself.” He admitted, and didn’t look when he felt Silo glance up again. Eye contact was so trivial, anyway. And besides, he didn’t need to look to know what he was thinking. “I don’t even feel bad for me. And it’s sad, but I don’t care anymore. I’m just stuck worrying about everyone else. What does that make me? When I’m in here for... you know, for what I did, and I’m still worried about everyone else?”

He looked back at the ceiling, and none of this made any sense anymore. Maybe it never did. Maybe he shouldn’t have let himself fail. He wasn’t a victim because he was doing this all for him. He was selfish when it mattered. He wasn’t a martyr. He should have been, maybe it’d give him some sense of self, but, well. He knew the score now. He just kind of wished he didn’t.

“I think that makes you a good person, maybe. What do I know?” A lot more than Dallon did, really.

“I don’t think so. I think everything I’ve ever done says otherwise.” He wouldn’t let himself think it anymore. It had been done to death. Or not, just to hospital room, IV, disappointed looks in maternal eyes. “What good person does something so... selfish?”

“See, you’re doing it again.” He pointed out, and Dallon wondered if his therapist did the same thing. What kind of a job was that, anyway? Dallon knew his faults. He didn’t need to be told. “Thinking of everyone else.”

“I can’t help it.” He argued, suddenly feeling childish but too exhausted to embarrass himself over it. “I can’t stop thinking about what they would have done. I can’t stop thinking about how I still want to do it. People don’t change. I don’t think anybody ever has. I don’t think I will, either. Doesn’t that make this all useless?”

“Listen, Dallon,” Silo said suddenly, making the boy idly turn to catch his gaze. It was daunting, like right then he realized that he knew something Dallon didn’t. He was sick of not knowing things. He just wanted to skip that part and end up where he wanted to be. “There are two types of people that come out of this place. There are the ones who pretend they’ve changed, and there are the ones who actually did. The ones who end up right back in this place and the success stories. The end goal is to be a success story.”

Dallon frowned. “Everybody hates success stories.”

“Everybody envies success stories,” Silo corrected, grabbing his bag of toiletries from the dresser. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth.”

“Okay,” Dallon peeped, brushing his hand against the wall aimlessly. But something caught his attention and he turned, scratching his short nails at the creases in the plaster. “Hey, Silo?” He turned, nodded. “What is this?”

Silo was quiet in the doorway until Dallon turned to look at him again, and there was just so much he didn’t know. It was starting to make him crazy. “Some people drive themselves up the walls in here. Just... be a success story, Dallon.” He said solemnly, and then he disappeared.

Dallon pulled his hand away like he had accidentally found something he shouldn’t have and instead turned to stare at the opposite side of the room, anyway.

* * *

He found himself shaking with anxiety as he stood staring at the front desk, squinting because his glasses were back in his room and he kind of didn’t have contacts so last minute. But he stood on his toes, trying to find who he was looking for, and he hadn’t called but he knew he was coming. He had to be. He rocked back and forth on his heels, he was so nervous, standing there waiting for a train he wasn’t even sure was coming, and there was a four hour window and maybe he didn’t even want to come, maybe-

Ryan seemed to see Dallon the second Dallon saw him.

He ran, and Dallon barely had time to step toward him when Ryan was enveloping him in a hug so tight it made him stumble back. Someone shouted after him, they weren’t allowed to run and he needed a guest sticker, they had to keep track of who came and went. But still, even when a nurse approached and stood by, not wanting to interrupt just yet, Dallon didn’t let go, just squeezed his body tight and buried his face in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan whispered almost inaudibly against his shoulder, gripping him like he wouldn’t ever let himself let go.

“No, it’s okay.” Dallon pulled away, shaking his head and sniffling. He hadn’t realized that he let himself cry. It was so easy to do in here. “Hey, you have to go sign in. I’ll wait here.” He wiped his eyes, and Ryan was reluctant to go but the nurse guided him toward the sign in sheet, giving him a guest sticker and keeping it brief.

“So,” Ryan started as he sat down in a sofa chair across from Dallon, a table with a checkerboard on it between them though neither had the intention to play. “Um.”

“I don’t know what to say either.” Dallon laughed, trying not to look so emotional though this was so much harder than he thought it was gonna be. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t even gonna tell you guys, but my therapist told me that the smartest thing to do would be to tell the people I love so I can have a support system. I know that’s putting a lot of pressure on you, but... well, you know. She also says I should make things about me right now.”

Ryan laughed, and Dallon followed, slightly uncomfortable because for weeks he had been making things about him and that didn’t get them anywhere good. Ryan got up, and like it were innate Dallon pushed over in his seat and made room for him to slip in between his side and the arm of the chair, a tight squeeze though they always seemed to be more comfortable being close, anyway.

“You’ve been my support system my whole life, Dallon.” He said, and almost absently Dallon reached up to tuck hair behind his ear, seeing the scar he’d spent so much time trying not to see. They all had their demons, he guessed.

“Yeah, I know.” He said, and just like that they pulled each other in for a hug, awkwardly looping their arms around each other and trying not to cry because they were in a psych ward, for Christ’s sake, and Dallon was sick of being a cliché. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Dal. You didn’t do anything. Don’t think I’m mad at you for this.” He managed to hug him tighter when Dallon tried to pull away. “Seriously. I’m not.”

“Yeah you are. You have to be.” At that, Ryan let him go, leaning back and not knowing what to say. “You punched me in the face, Ryan.”

His eyes wavered at the confrontation. “Because you said that no one cares about you, Dal, and you’re hurting yourself, and...” Letting his sentence trail off, he reached out to grab at Dallon’s arm. And Dallon let him, understood, because he’d been pulling away for too long and he knew what it was like to worry.

He ran long fingers over the pale skin of Dallon’s forearm, a touch that felt too honest, too real. A touch that made Dallon remember too well the look in his eyes that night, the shake of his head, the way he tried searching through his psyche all night on the drive home from the desert but he couldn’t find what he was feeling. Maybe it was because he didn’t know, or maybe it was because he didn't want to know. A tear slid down Dallon’s cheek and he wiped it away when Ryan rubbed his thumb over the fading perfect circle on Dallon’s otherwise pristine skin, red and somehow complementary to his quiet complexion.

“What’s gonna happen?” He asked, not averting his gaze from where he had Dallon’s arm cradled in his hands.

“I don’t know.” Dallon said honestly, because he didn’t. He could be dead in a day or two. He could find out how to do it in here. He never planned on long term goals. “I’m gonna start taking antidepressants— like, good ones— and I’m gonna work towards being better, I guess. Being honest and not lying so much, telling people how I feel and what’s going on and not being scared to ask for help. That’s, uh. That’s all the stuff my therapist told me.”

Ryan looked up at him, visibly pained, and with Dallon’s free hand he pushed his fingertips underneath Ryan’s, away from what he couldn’t control and into something he could. Ryan said nothing, didn’t know what to say, just tangled his fingers with Dallon’s and breathed. “I’m proud of you, Dal, you know.”

“Thanks.” He didn’t say that he doubted it, didn’t say that he really had no reason to be proud. Ryan was going to be proud no matter what. It was in his nature. Dallon ran his thumbnail across Ryan’s, searching his throat for words that had been caught for weeks. “I like you.”

He bristled away but made no movement, just winced like he’s hoped he’d never say it. “Dallon.”

“Just let me say it, please, okay?” He begged, because his therapist told him to be honest and this was the only person he knew he had to be honest with. Meeting his eyes dangerously Ryan nodded, feeling Dallon’s heartbeat pick up through the veins in his wrist. “I like you. And this isn’t, like, something that’s been here forever. It’s just... like, for the past few months, you’ve been here, and you care about me, and... and I love you. Not like that, cause like... I don’t know how to be in love with someone. And I don’t wanna be. But I know I love you, Ry, and I need you in my life. No matter how that is.”

“I know.” He whispered, trying to treat this delicately.

“I know you do, but I need to hear myself say it. I’ve never said it out loud. I like you. And I think it’s because after my dad died I wanted to find some sort of feeling to replace whatever I lost. And everything is so fucking crazy right now, and it has been since May, I... I was caught in between wanting to feel something and wanting to feel nothing. Everything I was doing was nothing. You’re something, and I know it’s dumb, but I wanted to say it so I know. Because tomorrow I’m gonna talk to my therapist about it, and I’m gonna figure out what I actually feel. I’m gonna figure out if this is real or if I’m just thinking that I have feelings for you because I have a tendency to gravitate towards anybody who’s nice to me.”

Ryan nodded, reaching out to pull Dallon into another hug. “I respect that. And listen.” He buried his face in Dallon’s shoulder, making Dallon sniffle and push his nose in his hair. “I want you in my life forever, Dallon. You’re my best friend, and nothing is changing that, nothing ever will. I love you too. And this...” He pulled away to brush his fingers over Dallon’s wrist suddenly, making him almost jerk away. “I don’t want you to do this to yourself. This world is already too bad to you. You don’t need to be bad to you too.”

“I know,” Dallon agreed, knew he should stop, but wouldn’t. Because he needed to be in control of something. He went to pull his arm away, holding it against his chest, and brown eyes followed slowly, calculatedly. “Um. Thanks for visiting. I was kind of expecting you to bring Josh.”

“I wanted to come on my own first. See you alone,” Ryan admitted, playing with his hands. And Dallon didn’t exactly know how to answer to that, because it felt too real. A lot of things did these days. When people were too scared to lie, scared he’d snap, and it was weird, having people he loved fear him. It was weird, and sad, but he got it. He got it and that was the worst part. “What’s it like in here?”

“Weird. I have a roommate and we don’t have doors and there are like, communal showers. Like a dorm. I don’t wanna ever live in a dorm. And people are nice, for the most part, and I have to talk to a therapist and stuff. And having scheduled bedtimes is kinda throwing me off.” He looked down at his socked foot, tucking it under Ryan’s thigh in their strange, tangled embrace. “But they don’t turn off the lights at night.”

“And you can’t sleep with light,” Ryan said quietly, and Dallon nodded, playing with the ring on his finger. “It’s only a few more days, right?”

“No, Ryan, I’m here for a month.” He admitted, realizing he hadn’t told him, and Ryan looked distraught. “I know it’s a long time. And I wish it wasn’t. But they’re trying to make sure I’m stable and won’t try to commit again before they let me go home. I miss home.” And he did. He never realized how much he loved his room until he spent so much time away from it.

“You’re not gonna, right?” Ryan asked timidly, and Dallon glanced up at him, eyes big and innocent, almost. Like he’d been caught, and didn’t know what to say. But it was hard not to get caught when you were being reckless. Sins like suicide were torturous things to have holding over your head. “Try to... kill yourself again. Because I’m really scared, Dal.”

“I... I don't know.” He looked away again, eyes fixating too hard on the ring on his finger as his twisted it on and off. “I can’t really make that promise.”

“That’s okay.” Ryan whispered, the truth, and Dallon looked up again only for Ryan to push his foot under Dallon’s thigh to make him smile. “As long as you try.”

And Dallon hadn’t thought about that. Trying. But he nodded, promised he would instead. Sure, he could try. There was no harm in trying.

* * *

Dallon had been in the game room once or twice, trying to get to know the people there. Mabel had tried to teach him mancala, but understood when he said it wasn’t really his kind of game, and when Silo returned from therapy Dallon found himself sitting across from him at a table, playing operation instead. It was almost dinner time, but Dallon needed to do something in between napping and therapy and trying to keep down whatever shitty hospital cafeteria food they were giving them.

“I feel like a therapist,” Dallon said as it was his turn with the tweezers, clinking the little ends together aimlessly.

Silo glanced up at him, half smiling. “Why’s that?”

Dallon shrugged, pinching the tweezers a little and shaking his leg as his foot had fallen asleep. “Pulling pieces out of someone to examine and judge.”

Silo hummed, and Dallon meant nothing by it, just that he felt like a therapist except in the metaphorical sense, and sometimes people didn’t get that but they never really needed to. Dallon hated when people got him, anyway. “You’re weirdly deep, Dallon.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugged, pulled out some little wish bone and frowned. “Everyone needs a hook. Wax poetic is mine.”

“Huh.” Silo folded his hands on the table and examined Dallon, bags under his eyes, bangs in his face, the sweatshirt two sizes too big because he’d stolen it from his father’s closet and wore it until it lost its smell. “You know, you don’t always have to be so negative. In a life like this you gotta see the bright side sometimes.”

“There’s never a bright side. Not to me.” Dallon looked away, pulled something almost all the way out only for the tweezers to twitch and drop it. “Guess it’s just the way I’m wired.”

“Maybe. Guess it’s genetics.” Silo said. A reiteration of Dallon’s words, a paraphrase, but it made something in Dallon’s chest tighten. It wasn’t. His father was the happiest person he knew, always smiled, always saw the best in everything. And his mother was sweet, caring, never saw the worst in people. It wasn’t genetics. It was just him.

“Dinner!” One is the nurses called, and Dallon got up, leaving the game unfinished. There was no use in saving lives, anyway. Not in this place.

* * *

“Hey, Silo? Why are you here?” Dallon asked that night after dinner, when the nurses had let them go and Dallon found himself too tired to play any more board games. Silo looked at him from where he was making his bed, quirked an eyebrow, and Dallon added, “I mean, you seem fine. Happy.”

Silo shrugged and said like it were the most obvious thing in the world, “I’m pretending.”

Dallon’s shoulders slumped like he were expecting anything better. Maybe everyone was pretending. Maybe no one was even happy anymore. That made it even harder, somehow. Like if nobody was happy, there was no point in trying. Why try to look for a destination that wasn’t there? “I don’t have the energy to pretend.”

“I don’t either, sometimes.” Silo sighed, and suddenly Dallon felt haunted, in a way. Because Ryan’s words were getting to him, and the way his mom stared at him across that chess table the day prior got to him, and nothing was okay and he didn’t think anything would ever be okay.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I wanna wash my face. I feel gross.” He stood up and Silo nodded, going back to making his bed like he always did. Dallon didn’t see the point, he was just going to mess it up again anyway, but he didn’t question it. Everybody had their thing.

The bathroom was vacant when he stepped in, denying the nurse’s help because he just wanted to do something alone for once. Without looking in the mirror he turned on the faucet and splashed ice-cold water in his face, chilling his skin and making him shiver. This place was always cold. He looked up, water dripping from his face, only to catch a flash of blue staring back at him. He watched his own eyes in the mirror, sad and tired and depleted. He hated those eyes, was so sick of them, just wanted something else. He was so sick of pretending.

He could feel soft extremities grazing his skin, warm eyes that watched him like he were a flower in a rainstorm. Unprotected, unsafe, fragile, weak. Because he was, in a way, or maybe everyone was right when they told him he was strong. Maybe everyone was lying, because he didn’t feel strong. If he was strong, he wouldn’t have downed a handful of pills and sat on the floor of his bathroom, back against the tub and tears in his eyes, waiting to stop feeling.

He could still feel skin against his own, pressing worry into him like bruises next to one he had made himself. He was worried too, once upon a time, but somewhere he just stopped caring. He could feel that touch, gentle and wary, and sometimes he didn’t want to feel it.

Only half thinking, he stuck his arm under the paper towel dispenser, pressing it to his forearm and pulling his arm back sharply. The pain was long and dense, leaving a deeply exposed wound and petals of blood rising to the surface of his flesh, and for a second it kept him sane, made him wonder why he’d never done it, and he pressed his fingers to the cut, about three inches long and jagged, probably not deep enough to scar but deep.

He hissed in pain and blood slid down pale skin, like he hadn’t seen the sun in days, and he needed some color. It was feeling too dreary in here. Drops of blood hit the floor, pooling by his feet, and tears gathered in his eyes but he just stared and stared and stared until he felt dizzy and a girl stepped in, the girl from the shower, and gasped.

“Oh, god.” She rushed over to him, reaching out to touch his arm though she second guessed it and pulled her hand back. “What’d you do?”

“I, um. Cut my arm on the thing.” He pointed to the paper towel dispenser and she put a hand on his back, guiding him into the hallway. He followed her to the infirmary down the hall, didn’t bother protesting because his eyes were fixated on crimson red, and his cheeks were sickly pale as the doctor rushed to clean out the cut, bandage it up, lay him down to rest. He said nothing, couldn’t muster up the courage to thank the girl because she should have just left him alone. Maybe he wanted to bleed out right there in the psych ward bathroom.

What a fucking way to go.

It was kind of sick. Dallon used to be bright and insightful and creative. That was what everybody said, anyway. He was smart and passionate, had goals and chased them. He wanted a future. He was a good son and a good friend, went to church and did chores and went grocery shopping with his mom every time she asked him to. He went to the mall with friends after school, and he was easy to deal with, he was simple.

That was before his life was ruined, anyway.

It was sick. Because a few months ago Dallon Weekes was determined. He was destined for greatness, even, if you wanted to go so far as to say it. But then somehow he ended up there in the psych ward’s infirmary with a burn marked arm and a giant gash up his wrist, bandaged up though it wouldn’t hide the truth. Nothing would. Eventually, everybody would know who Dallon Weekes really was. A hopeless, worthless, liar.

“Are you feeling okay? Lightheaded?” The nurse asked the next morning, and Dallon stared unseeingly out the window.

“I’m fine.” He insisted. She watched him for a second, and he counted cars in the parking lot outside and wished he was out there instead. It had only been a few days and he was already going insane. He understood why some people clawed at the walls. They just wanted to get out of this hell.

“Okay. Listen, Dallon, we’re gonna keep a tight watch on you for the next few days. We debated keeping you longer but we talked to your mother and she thinks that you’ll be better off staying the month and then going home with her. You have to promise not to do this again, though, alright? Dallon?” She rambled, but Dallon just watched a car pull into the lot. Visiting hours were soon, but they called Dallon’s mom and told her not to visit today. They needed to do some evaluations.

“Uh-huh.” He agreed, mind wandering. Maybe it was better if he didn’t see anyone today.

Except for his therapist, apparently. Because he had insisted that he didn’t want to see her, he just wanted to be alone today, but a tight watch meant talking about things he didn’t want to talk about. She was nice and everything, promised he wouldn’t have to say too much on his first day if he was too uncomfortable. But then things became more complex, and his bandaged wound stung as he played with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“Dallon, I want you to promise you’re not going to do this again.”

“I’m not going to do this again.” He sighed, but the words lacked meaning as he tasted them on his tongue, as they dripped from his lips with the blood that slid down his skin night after night when he had gotten so much better at hiding it.

“Are you okay?” Silo asked after it had happened the first time, after Dallon had showered and a nurse had helped him change his bandage. He looked up, running a hand through his hair, settling down on his bed and grabbing at his blanket. Silo pointed to his bandage and Dallon looked at it, and then away, as if not acknowledging it would make him forget.

“Just a dumb incident. It’s nothing.” He waved it off, tucking himself into bed and turning over to face the wall.

“Months.” Silo’s voice made Dallon turn, eyes lacking the curiosity they once held so deeply. “Hurting yourself won’t make you get out of here faster. Think about what you’re doing.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” His eyes followed the wall once more, not daring to look at the scratches and staring at an innocent chip in the wallpaper instead.

Thinking. That was all there was to do in this place, anyway.

* * *

Dallon didn’t bother to greet his friends at the door this time but had reserved a couch and a chair opposite of it, tucked in a hoodie and pouting until they came around the corner, Ryan smiling cautiously and Josh grinning until Dallon got up to hug him. It was strange, smiling in this place, but it wasn’t like it they knew what it was like. They exchanged hello’s and how are you’s, the causeries that were just about as painful as the deep stuff, too. At least they weren’t trying to therapy him.

“What’d you do, Dal?” Ryan asked as he took a seat beside him on the couch. Dallon shrugged, pulling his sleeve over his hand. Well, at least Josh wasn’t trying to therapy him.

Dallon shook his head and crossed his arms, he knew he should have worn something bigger. He should have told them he didn’t want to see anybody today. “Nothing. Cut myself. It’s not a big deal.”

“Dallon,” Ryan sighed, not meaning to sound judgmental though he couldn’t help it sometimes.

“Ryan.” Josh snapped quietly and Ryan folded his arms, knew he could get a little too protective of his best friend if he wasn’t careful. “Sorry.” He added when Dallon looked at him, hyperaware of all the people around them.

“No, it’s okay.” Dallon shifted uncomfortably where he was sitting, because people never knew how to talk to him. “You guys don’t have to talk to me like I’m a piece of glass. I just wanna pretend everything’s normal, right now.”

“That’s fine. We, uh. We can play checkers.” Josh gestured to the checkerboard in front of them and Ryan scoffed, kicking his feet up on the table.

“Since when have we ever played checkers?”

Josh sighed, he was just trying to make light of a bad situation, but Dallon stood up, muttering something about having to get a drink and disappearing to the cafeteria to ask for a cup of water. He knew they were trying to make things better, but how much better could one visit make him? He was still gonna be here, he was still gonna be suicidal. Small talk and a game of checkers wasn’t going to change that.

He lingered in the kitchen for a minute, sitting at the table and staring into his cup of water until footsteps made him look up in distress. Josh forced a smile as he took a seat across from him at the table, not saying anything as Dallon looked away, almost embarrassed though he didn’t know why. It was just something about their dichotomy, how Josh was probably the happiest person he’d ever met and, well, Dallon was in here.

“Do you remember when my grandma had a birthday party a couple of years ago? Ryan was being a bitch because he always got in these moods so I brought you with me and we didn’t tell him where we went?” Josh asked quietly and Dallon looked up, nodding because he remembered the night well. Sitting alone in the corner because Josh’s family was a bit much, dancing and laughing and Dallon was anxious because he was often, back in middle school. “We played checkers.”

“Yeah, we did.” He remembered because his father taught him how to play once upon a time, when they were moving into their new apartment in Boulder City. His father found the board and insisted he teach him. It came in handy, once or twice, but now the memory had a bitter taste as the simple words lingered on his lips.

Dallon touched the rim of his cup, and Josh added, “Ryan doesn’t know everything. He likes to pretend he does.”

“I know.” Dallon agreed, twisting the ring on his finger awkwardly and avoiding his eyes because everything felt too real in this place. “I still love him, though.”

“I know you do.” Josh whispered, though Dallon had never said it out loud. It felt too honest, and Dallon tried to smile but he ended up with tears in his eyes, anyway. “Dallon, you’re gonna be fine. And so is Ryan.”

“I feel like I’m fucking everything up.” He admitted, sniffling and trying to blink away his tears like he were still confessing in the middle of the desert, the metallic taste of blood on his teeth with truths he never meant to tell.

“You’re not.” Josh assured him, and Dallon wasn’t so sure. For weeks things felt different. He and Ryan were different now. And he wanted things to go back to normal but it wasn’t that easy, because confessions were confessions for a reason. They were secrets people didn’t want to have to keep. Dallon wished he had just kept all his secrets and succeeded. “Dal, you’re not. Things are just weird right now, is all. But Ryan loves you too, maybe not in the same way, but he does. And he wants you to be okay. We both do.”

“But I’m not.” Dallon said, exasperated, because he didn’t know how else to express it. He wasn’t okay. He didn’t think he was ever going to be okay. “It’s not because of him. It’s just... me. I’m miserable all the time, and I feel like nothing makes sense anymore, and I’m not happy and I wanna die and I don’t know what to do, Josh. This is pointless.”

“No it’s not, Dal.” Josh argued, and it was, it was, but not everybody thought so. “It’s not. I just want you to wait it out, and think about things, but don’t hurt yourself, Dal, please.”

“I don’t know how not to.” He admitted, and the words burned, he didn’t want to fall into such a habit, but it was hard not to when he found it so easy to fall into everything else.

“You don’t have to know. But you have to try.” Josh reached across the table to bump their hands together. “Don’t feel like you have to have everything together right away. But I think it’s gonna be worth it. You just have to take a minute to figure it out.” He pat his wrist and Dallon sniffled again, not knowing what to say because he didn’t think so, but then again life had a way of surprising him. “C’mon, let’s go back in there. Ryan was like, tearing up when I left.”

Dallon laughed, and guilt settled in his stomach because he never meant to make anybody worry about him, he wanted it to be a clean break, to just be gone, leave everyone to pick up the pieces. But he was going to try anyway, because he didn’t know how not to.

As visiting hours ended Dallon led them to the hallway where he’d say his goodbyes, hopefully not forever, as his friends lingered after him, not wanting to leave because it all felt so indefinite. He didn’t want them to leave, either. But he did, because they didn’t need to see everything, because sometimes maybe being kept in the dark was better than knowing. He wished he could be in the dark too, sometimes.

But they didn’t need to know everything, that he knew how to play checkers or that his body shook under the covers as he stared at the half lit up ceiling, trying not to cry because he’d be out in five days, four days, three, two, one, except it was like it never came. They didn’t need to know that every second of his life was a countdown, though he never knew exactly what he was counting down to.

“I’ll see you when you get out, Weekes. Take care.” Josh pat his back and Dallon forced a smile, letting his hand on his arm linger before Josh disappeared to the elevator, waiting for a reluctant Ryan to follow.

“Dal, hey.” Ryan reached out to grab his arm but second guessed it, instead stared and took his hand. Dallon shifted his weight, watching his socked feet against tiled floors toe to toe with Ryan’s sneakers. “You promised you’d try. I’m holding you to that.”

“Trying’s not that easy.” Dallon admitted, rubbing his arm above the bandage and managing to avoid his eyes.

“Nothing’s easy. Do it anyway. For me.” He pulled Dallon into a hug without another word and Dallon’s heart was pounding. He knew he promised but promises meant nothing to him anymore. But still he nodded, squeezing Ryan tight, and he knew what they talked about, that he couldn’t expect more, that this wasn’t anything, but it all felt so blurred sometimes.

He pulled away and studied his eyes, a light brown, hazel, a little bit of green, and he knew what they talked about, but he was going to be dead soon, anyway. He leaned in to press his lips to Ryan’s and Ryan stilled, not pulling away but not quite kissing back, and then Dallon felt it, just a little push against his own mouth, enough for him to wonder as he pulled away, breath uneven.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered like he hadn’t known where it came from, though he’d been wanting to do that for weeks.

“No, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” Ryan forced a smile and Dallon took a step back, regret clear in his eyes, but managing to keep them on Ryan’s, anyway. “Hey, I’ll see you when you get out. You, me, and Josh will go out to eat and you guys can sleep over. We can talk. Or not talk. Whatever you want.” And just then he looked like he knew he fucked up, like this was his fault, he had been neglecting him for too long, or maybe that was Dallon’s fault, too. When it came down to it everything was. “Bye, Dallon.”

Dallon swallowed thickly, biting his lip to trace the taste before it faded. What the hell had he done? “Bye.” He peeped, and when he disappeared, Dallon was right back in the bathroom, washing his hands raw until everybody else was gone, too.

* * *

Dallon stood by the door with his bag and played with the handle while he waited beside Silo for his mom to check him out. It had only been a month but it felt like a century, trying to fit in and realizing that nobody fit in in a place like this. He was almost scared to see what the rest of the world looked like after he had tried so desperately to leave it.

“Ready to go?” Dallon’s mother asked, and Dallon nodded, looking around because he promised himself he’d never see this place again.

“Hey, remember what I said.” Silo reminded him, and Dallon nodded again, pulling him into a hug. “You have my number, Dallon Months. Use it?”

“I will.” Dallon promised, crossing his heart as he pulled away and forced a smile. There were some people you wanted to keep around when they helped change your life. “You, um. You’re gonna be a success story too, I think.”

“We better hope. And I better not read your stupid name in the obituaries anytime soon.”

“No promises, but I’m gonna try.” Dallon crossed his fingers, forced a smile, didn’t want to say goodbye but he knew the world was waiting. So they hugged again, and Dallon promised he was going to try to be a success story as he followed his mother down to the parking lot and climbed into the passenger seat.

“Are you feeling better?” Dallon’s mother asked from the driver’s seat, and he shrugged, looking out the window at the cars.

“No, but I’m sure I will. They all say it takes time.” He said. And doubt clung to his skin as he had forgotten to scrub it off but he wanted to stay hopeful. Because it had been a month of being told that he could overcome, and that killing himself was a permanent solution to a temporary problem, and that some people come out successful. Dallon Weekes had been ambitious once upon a time, but he swore that one day he would find his old self in this new world. Maybe not yet, but he would. He had to. Because he didn’t know how else he was gonna make it.

* * *

Back here again. After years of managing to avoid it, after having fought with himself for ages over it, he was back here again, stressed and hurt and bruised. He ran his fingers over his skin idly, over a mark on his upper left forearm that could pass as a bruise or something if he didn’t think about it, if people didn’t ask. No one ever really knew, except Ryan and Josh, now Brendon, and he wished he had kept it that way.

Stupid. God, he was so stupid.

He tugged his sweater sleeves down over his hands and stared apathetically at the receptionist as she told him his room number and pointed him in that direction. He’d been through the motions before, knew the hallways and the barred windows and the sharp metal teeth on the paper towel dispensers in the bathroom. He knew that stupid feeling of relief when jagged cuts stung his skin and he knew the feeling of guilt that stung worse. He knew what it was like to wish he wasn’t familiar with all of this, too.

He swore he would never be back. He swore he would hide things better. Swore that the next time wouldn’t be a failure and that he would end up some success story, just like Silo had said, wondered how he was and reminded himself to text him when he got out. Something ached deep in his chest when he stepped into the doorless room and nodded his head at the man making his bed, not much more than a few years older than Dallon.

“Max.”

“Dallon.” They nodded at each other and Dallon dropped his bag on his bed, already exhausted. “How long you been here?”

“Four days. Not long. Roommate just got out.” He nodded his head toward the empty bed, Dallon’s bed, and the boy took a seat on the edge of it, the uncomfortable plastic crinkling under him. “How long you staying?”

“Um, until Monday morning. Not long. Just... making sure that I’m not gonna try to kill myself again, I guess.” Dallon shrugged, and in a place like this you didn’t get the usual reactions. You didn’t get the sympathetic gazes or the tears or the gasps. You got understanding nods, as if saying I hear you, and that was the part Dallon appreciated the most. People weren’t wasting time feeling sorry for each other. “I’ve been here before.”

“Haven’t we all.” Max sighed, and Dallon nodded, laying flat on his back in exasperation. He never meant to let this happen.

Dallon lingered around for a while after breakfast the next morning, not really knowing what to do because there were only so many times he could play checkers with the resident elders before he got sick of losing and went to walk around instead. But his feet got tired and so he found his room again, sitting in bed to think because that was what this place was for, anyway.

He didn’t tell Brendon he was coming. He didn’t tell Brendon that he couldn’t have his phone or that he was scared to tell him about this or that this wasn’t out of the ordinary. He didn’t tell Brendon a lot of things, and it didn’t bother him until he realized that Brendon was always so brutally honest with him and he was just taking that for granted.

“Are you okay?” Max asked suddenly, and Dallon shook his head, didn’t even have to second guess it. Friday was terrible. It was terrible, and so was Saturday, and he regretted it and he knew he would. He swore he’d never let himself do this. He swore he’d never do a lot of the things he’d done.

“I’m a really shitty boyfriend.” Dallon said quietly, tapping his fingers against the metal railing of the headboard. Max glanced at him but Dallon avoided his eyes, he didn’t need anyone else’s opinion, and instead ducked his chin against his knee and closed his eyes. “I swore the last time I was here that I would never let myself be bad when I had important people in my life. And I want to take care of him, I want to tell him the truth, but it just feels so unfair. Like I’m gonna keep letting him down.”

“Listen, man, I don’t know anything about your situation,” Max started, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, “but I think that if you’re worried about being a bad boyfriend then you’re probably not. I mean, you worrying about letting him down just proves that you care enough to want to change. So go for it. Talk things out with him, try to fix whatever problems you have. That’s what this place is for.”

He should have learned his lesson the first time around. Of course. Why else was he here? “You’re right. Thank you. I have to figure my shit out.” He got up, releasing his tight grip on the bed’s railing. He had a therapy appointment soon, anyway. He wanted to fix himself. He had a lot to fix.

The hospital felt oddly familiar to him as he walked aimlessly through the halls, though he hadn’t been in over three years. The posters on the walls of the game room and the faded tables in the cafeteria, the lemon pledge scent after cleaning and the sound of his shoes squeaking across the linoleum floor. It had been three years and it had hardly changed, even though he had.

He poked his head into Dr. Winslow’s office before she could send a nurse to get him. She stood up, welcoming him, and gestured to the chair as she claimed her own. “I was just about to send for you. Are you ready to talk?”

“Mhm.” He closed the door and went to take the seat across from her.

“Excellent.” She got out his file. “So, Dallon, you’re back for the weekend.” Wordlessly, Dallon nodded, making himself comfortable in that big leather chair of hers. “Why’s that?”

“Um, I’ve been really bad lately, and I self-harmed again.” He tugged aimlessly on the sleeve of his sweater, didn’t bother showing her because she knew already. She’d seen it the first time. “Mom said that I have to stay for the weekend and make sure I’m stable.”

“And if you’re not?”

“I guess that’s your call.” He shrugged, pulling a knee to his chest. He knew the drill, and she did too, because she turned away and nodded, reaching out to grab her pad of paper. That magical pad of paper, where she’d write out all his problems and then screw his head back on tight. He hadn’t been to therapy in a while.

“Let’s start out there, then. Your mother is worried you’ll be unstable. You said you self-harmed again.” Dallon nodded again. “What’d you do?”

“Burned myself with a cigarette. I do that sometimes. The last time I did it was May. Before that, it was like, March. My mom got a boyfriend and I drove out toward the desert one night and I smoked and I burned myself cause I was sad. And then I felt bad because it was right after I got a boyfriend, and cause we hadn't known each other that long so there were things he didn’t know about me then. He didn’t know about my depression. And then it was May and I did it again, just because May sucks. May is like, objectively, the worst month.”

“I remember. Because of your father.”

He nodded, and she sure was smart. “Uh-huh. And that time was worse because I didn’t think about anyone else, either. I just thought, y’know, he’s not gonna know. My boyfriend. And I was never gonna tell him.”

“Why not? Shouldn’t you be honest?” That was what everyone said. Honesty. Sure, but what was it worth? Hurting him? Reminding him that Dallon wasn’t who he thought he was? Brendon was the best thing to ever happen to him. He couldn’t risk ruining him like he was.

“Honesty is only worth it when the truth isn’t gonna hurt.” He shrugged like it made sense, because to him it did. Why should Brendon know? It was only going to hurt him even more. “Besides, he wouldn’t have handled it well. He’s this pure little thing. Not jaded yet. I didn’t wanna be the one to ruin him. That... that was my intention the whole time. To keep him innocent. I fucked that up, though, like I fuck everything up.”

She scribbled something and he sighed, watched her write though he knew she’d never show him. Just analyzing him, just trying to figure him out. Good luck, because no one ever had. “How so?”

“Yesterday I burned myself right in front of him. Like he wasn’t even there. And the sickest thing, I think, is that a part of me was so thrilled to do it. Like, this subconscious part of my brain thought, good. Because he said some really mean things and I wanted to get back at him. And to do that I just... hurt myself. It wasn’t just that, I didn’t do it out of spite, but... I don’t know. I don’t know what to say. I’m a shitty boyfriend.”

“I think it’s good that you recognize where you’re wrong, Dallon. That you know it’s unfair of you to cause harm to yourself and purposely scare him because you’re angry.” She said, and that was a therapist compliment. He knew what he was doing. What else could he ask for? “So I think you should let him express to you how he feels about that. Be honest.” He looked down at his lap and nodded again, because that was all he could think to do. He was forgetting how to be honest. It was just starting to scare him now. “Do you think your relationship is healthy, Dallon?”

Well, what qualified as healthy? “I think he might be the best thing to ever happen to me.” He admitted in a whisper, twisting the ring on his finger aimlessly. It wasn’t what she had asked but it was what he wanted to say. He really needed Brendon this year. He’d needed Brendon for a long, long time, he thought. “And I’m scared that maybe he doesn’t feel the same way about me.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

Dallon shrugged one shoulder, avoiding eye contact and watching his own lap awkwardly like things would change. They wouldn’t. “I’m... underwhelming. I think I seem exciting and shiny and new and then people get to know me and they realize that some things are only beautiful because you can only see the outside. I’m like that. He dug so deep under the surface and now it’s like... I don’t know. It’s like I can feel him realizing that I’m not what he bargained for.”

“Have you talked to him about this?”

“No. There’s no point.” He argued, but there was a point, he knew there was a point. “I’m scared that he’s gonna tell me I’m right.” He added with a sigh, and she jotted something down, reading between the lines. That he was admitting things he didn’t want to admit. That he was already making progress. He’d been here before.

“And what if he does?” She urged, and he shrugged. He couldn’t tell the future.

“I don't know. Then he’ll realize that this isn’t worth it. That I’m not worth it. Because I’m a mess, and I’m complicated, and I have baggage. It’s not like he doesn’t either, but it feels like mine is so much more... there. It’s like he let go of his inhibitions or whatever, like he’s letting himself trust me completely, and I’m still so apprehensive about everything.”

“Everything meaning within your relationship?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I love him. I know that I love him. And I know it hasn’t been long but I was thinking of asking him to move in with me. Y’know, given that we’re still together by graduation. And last night we had this fight, and like, it made me think that there’s so much about me he doesn’t know. And that’s scary because what if he finds out and runs because it’s too much? I wouldn’t blame him. Or what if I scare him again? He’s scared of everything, it’s like, a thing, and yesterday... he was scared. I could tell. And I told myself I’d never do that to him. It’s just that sometimes I don’t know who I am, and... how can I throw myself completely into somebody when I don’t even know myself?”

“That’s why you have to trust, Dallon. You trust him to trust you and you trust that he’s going to love you unconditionally and that you can work things out together.” It sounded so simple. Trust. He wished he could do that.

“It feels like there’s so much to lose,” Dallon admitted, and it felt honest, way too honest on his tongue. That was what he didn’t want. To lose Brendon. To lose anyone. It was heartbreaking, the thought of it, and the picture of big brown eyes watching him, filled with fear, drained of the light that had adopted him over the summer. July and August had been good, so why did all of it have to scare away so easily?

“And do you think you’re going to? Lose, that is?”

He squirmed in his seat, pressing his fingers to his knee. “I don’t know. I mean, maybe. Brendon and I never fought before. We’ve been together since March and friends for about a year now but we’ve never fought. We’ve barely even disagreed. And then I was sitting there and we were screaming at each other, like— like we were just trying to make each other listen, and I’ve never been so mad at someone I loved so much. And for a second I thought, you know, I can’t love him. I can’t because I think he’s gotten under my skin and he’s digging too hard and I’m scared that it’s going to get bad.”

“Brendon’s your boyfriend?” She asked and, realizing he hadn’t mentioned his name before, Dallon nodded. “So it sounds to me like you’re scared to love him because you think he knows you too well. You’re scared of letting him in. So there’s that trust issue again. And you know that’s part of your mental illness.”

Nothing got by her. “Yeah. But it’s not just that. It’s that... for months we kind of lived in this bubble. I was happy, and I’ve never been on such a strong level of happiness before.” He gestured with his hands. “And then suddenly we got back to school, and everything happened, and for a little while I thought that this was gonna be the perfect fairytale that I want and hell, deserve, but then it just ended up being... normal.”

“Normal.” She repeated.

“Uh-huh. And I know it sounds crazy. I know I make it out to seem like I thought we were gods. It’s hard to explain. I... I thought that we were gonna be it. That couple that doesn’t fight, doesn’t hurt each other, doesn’t play games just for fun. I thought that we could be something... clean.”

“That couple doesn’t exist though, Dallon.” She reasoned, and he sat back in his seat. “Everybody argues. It’s normal. Especially being together for as long as you have, I think an argument is long overdue. You have to understand that just because you had one bad day doesn’t mean your relationship is doomed.”

“I guess. It just... for a long time I thought we were magic. And now seeing that we aren’t... it’s disappointing.” He shrugged again, looked away. He loved Brendon; he really, really did. And sometimes that magic was there. Sometimes he could feel it, and maybe it sounded crazy, maybe he belonged in a place like this. But he knew what he felt. Magic. It was just that that night, it bled away when Brendon threatened to bend and break it, scared. “It sounds stupid out loud.”

“So what you’re saying is that you held this relationship on a pedestal only to be let down.” She figured, scribbling it down, and he swore sometimes therapists kept track of what they said to their patients. She was trained to know what words to use. Dallon’s tongue was still uncivil and uncoordinated.

“I mean... to some extent. But not completely. I was never so naive that I thought Brendon was going to fix me, I didn’t walk into this thinking that he was going to be a cure. But he helped. And for months I relied on him, and I know it’s like I was using him as a crutch, and I know dependency is something you’ve said to work on in the past, but it was like he was the only thing that could help. He just has this thing about him. And I thought that aspect of it was magic. That I felt safe and secure every time I was with him. And last night it felt like just everything he said broke that, and I know it’s not permanent, and I’m not mad at him, I’m mad at me because I let it get that far. Because I never act out like I did. But I let him see part of me that I never wanted him to see and it’s my fault.”

“So you think that your fight was on you?”

“I think...” He shifted, semi uncomfortable. “He was scared because he realized I’m not who he thought I was. Because he’d never seen me in that way before. So I can’t blame him for being scared and trying to get me to listen. Because I wouldn’t. Because I’ve always listened to him and taken into consideration what he said but now I was just treating him like nothing he said mattered. He may have set me off, but he didn’t have any cruel intentions. That’s where we differ.”

“And like you said before, you wanted to hurt him.”

“Yes.” He confirmed, and it sounded sick, twisted, made his body ache with regret. “I think that for the past few years I’ve gotten so comfortable hurting myself and others that I forget sometimes when I have something good. I don’t want to hurt him, I don’t want him to know that there are those really bad parts of me, but I’m scared that I’ve already messed up.”

She nodded in understanding, wrote that down. “And you think it’s irreparable.”

“I think that this whole thing made me realize that I’m scared to completely let him in.” He corrected, but it wasn’t exactly irreparable. He could fix things if he tried. “Like I’ve had one foot out the door just in case, and I’m trying to protect my heart, and every time I realize that he and I are deeper than I thought I get scared.”

“Okay.” She wrote it down, what he said and that he was coming to terms with what was wrong. A major step, she would say, that it was good that he recognized his faults. “How does that make you feel?”

There was that classic therapist talk. “Mad. At myself, mostly. Cause he’s never given me a reason not to trust him. Because he has told me everything about him, like he had no problem opening up. And I know that’s not true, I know he was scared to open up too, but he’s so much better at it than I am. He’s so honest and I hate myself for being reluctant to immerse myself in us.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe cause I’m scared that if I let myself trust him completely and open up then he won’t like the real me. Or that I’ll give him all of me and then something will happen and he’ll leave and I’ll be losing someone again. Maybe it’s just everything.”

“And this is something you’ve experienced before. Losing someone. Your father.” Wordlessly, Dallon nodded. “And you’re scared of trusting someone only for them to disappear.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have trust issues with everybody, or is this exclusively in relationships?”

He shrugged again, playing with the ring on his finger. “I think with everyone. I mean, I’ve only ever trusted a few people. My best friends and my boyfriend. My parents, a few people here. I think I try to protect myself as much as I can so that when I get hurt it’s not as bad. That’s why fighting with my boyfriend for the first time was such a big deal. I trusted him and...”

“And he broke that trust?” She suggested, trying to find the words he couldn’t.

“I don’t think he broke it. I just think that he hurt me, and he didn’t mean to.” He corrected before she got the wrong idea. He loved Brendon. He still trusted him. It was just... a little cracked, right now. “But he recognized that he was wrong, so isn’t that a good thing? That he realizes he hurt me and apologized and took the blame?”

“Yeah, Dallon, I think that’s a good thing.” She nodded, scribbled something down, and he tried to catch a glimpse of her paper. “Have you spoken to Brendon since you’ve gotten here?”

Guilty, he shook his head, and she added something else to the pad of paper. Avoiding the world outside, maybe. He hadn’t done that the first time. The first time, he desperately needed that support. That was the week he learned about his mental illnesses and how he relied so heavily on people who took care of him. Why he leaned on Ryan so much, at the time. “I think I need to take a break. I think he does too. I could call him from the phone here, if I wanted to, but...”

“But you need to think about yourself right now.” She finished for him.

He nodded promptly, and maybe that made him a bad boyfriend, maybe that made him a bad person, maybe Dallon just really didn’t want to think about that right now. “Right.”

She wrote something down and then flipped the page. He hadn’t realized how much he was talking. “So, Dallon, you have MDD, right?” Wordlessly, Dallon nodded. “Okay. So you know that trust issues and fearing abandonment are symptoms. Because you’re scared that if you trust someone, let them in, then they’ll leave you.”

He’d been told before. Therapists, doctors, his mother. So many times by his mother. Every time he snapped or did something impulsive, whenever he stayed in bed too late. His symptoms, he was getting bad, blah blah blah. “Yeah, I know. And I’m taking my meds, I promise I am, it’s just that everything is hard right now. I’m... bad, but I’m not as bad as I have been before. I’m upset about my mom’s relationship, and I’m upset that Brendon blamed me. I don’t want to believe that I have trouble trusting him. And I don’t want to believe that I think he’s gonna leave me if I let him in. I don’t wanna believe that I think anything wrong can happen between us.”

“But you do.”

Dallon bit his bottom lip, stretching his arms to rest on his knee, and nodded hesitantly. “But I do.”

She nodded, wrote something down. “And it’s good that you recognize that.”

“But it also makes me a horrible boyfriend.” He put his head in his hands and sighed. “Aside from this one stupid fight he’s never given me a reason to question my trust in him. He loves me so much and I love him too but I’m scared. I’m bad at trusting people. I know that’s the depression but I can’t help it. It freaks me out. Putting so much of me into someone else. Is that horrible? That we’ve been close for a year and I’m still scared of completely letting him in?”

“It’s not horrible, Dallon. It’s just honest. You have trouble letting people in and being in a serious relationship is unfamiliar to you.” He nodded, looking down at his lap. He knew, and it wasn’t like he was having second thoughts. It was just that one mistake made him all too wary. “Maybe it might benefit you both to talk to Brendon about this. Tell him if you’re having doubts, what you’re scared of, how you feel. It’s important to communicate.”

“I’m worried that he’s gonna say something that I don’t wanna hear.” Dallon admitted, didn’t even want to think it. Because there was so much possibility for failure, so much potential to let everything crash and burn.

“Like what?”

“Like he doesn’t wanna be with me anymore.” Dallon snapped, and tears slid down his cheeks as he said it. She settled back in her chair, rested her hands in her lap. He didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to have to say it. But it was the truth, raw and honest, and that was what this place was for. The things he couldn’t say outside. “Like he thinks that we might be a mistake. Or that he’s scared of me. Because he looked so scared, and just... what if I scared him so much that he doesn’t want to be with me anymore?”

“I think that’s something you should talk about with him, Dallon.”

“I guess.” Dallon played with his hands awkwardly and she was right, he had to talk to Brendon, but what would that do? He’d know everything. That Dallon was betraying him, that there was no trust between them, that he was just a liar. He never meant to lie. “I just wanna trust him.”

“And you will, Dallon, if you really feel like you can. But you can’t force that.” She wrote something down and he swore she was just keeping track of what she said now. Dallon stared after her and shrugged, in the way that patients did when their therapists were right and they didn’t want to admit it, and looked back down at his lap.

“I wish I did.”

“But you don’t.” She figured. And he shut his eyes, the words felt like ice as they bled deep, and he wanted to, but when trust was so fragile he didn’t know how to hand it out without breaking it.

“I don’t wanna say it,” Dallon whispered, because saying it meant it was true and some truths didn’t deserve to be spoken.

“That’s fine.” She assured him. “That’s fine, Dallon. Baby steps. Let’s talk about something else.” She clicked her pen twice and he looked over at her sheet of paper, watching her keep notes. How to Be A Horrible Person by Dallon Weekes. He could add the title himself later.

“Yeah.” He agreed, looking away. “Yeah, let’s talk about something else.”

* * *

The lights were dim but Dallon preferred them like that, anyway. He already felt blinded and in the dark and lost, so having to watch his white socked feet glide across the wood floors like he were in some blurred out, ethereal dream was nothing. He walked steady like he were trying to remember how and then let his feet drag, testing different ways to step like either would make him feel something. He just felt light, and then slow, and then heavy, like suddenly something was weighing down his shoulders. Guilt. Shame, maybe. Only coming to God for help when he needed something.

“What’s up, God?” Dallon asked, putting an arm out to trail his fingers over the top of the pew, and then laughed weakly in spite of himself. “Just kidding. I don’t know if we’re on best friend kinda terms anymore. But can we pretend today, please? Cause I really need to talk to you.”

He walked carefully down the aisle, socks stepping silently across waxed wood floors toward the front of the little chapel. It felt familiar, like he had just been here. It was starting to feel homespun, almost, like it was welcoming him like everything else in this place, a thought that scared him as he wondered if maybe he was adapting too well. He did the first time around, and now...

He just hoped he could be one of those success stories.

He sat down in a pew, not in the front but not in the back, just took ahold of the top of one and sat down behind it. Gripped the wood tight and felt his fingernails dig in, the soft wood underneath them, leaving crescent moon shaped indents behind like a legacy. He’d make his mark the only way he knew how. He looked down at his lap, put his hands together, and prayed.

He prayed for his soul. It was a cliché, pray for the poor little gay boy’s soul. Damn him to hell, pray he finds his way. That wasn’t what Dallon was praying for. He prayed for his heart, his body, his mind, his soul. He prayed for his mother and for his father and for Brendon Urie, a boy he broke and vowed to fix. He had vowed months ago never to hurt him, too, but sometimes things changed. Sometimes that wasn’t a good thing.

The thing was, he used to love church. Now it just felt like someone was waiting to burn him down in one.

He prayed for a broken heart and promised himself he’d mend it.

Dallon was quiet as he stared at the road ahead of him, listening to the hum of the engine and feeling it deep in his bones as he left a place he’d hopefully never see again. And he sent a text, a message that didn’t speak louder than words, a weak apology or not an apology at all because he didn’t know how to apologize for who he was.

I love you too, he thought. I love you too, and I messed up, and I need you and I’m sorry.

“Do I tell Brendon the truth?” Dallon asked quietly, looking up from his phone as he tugged on his seatbelt, away from the missed calls and dozens of texts left on a phone that belonged to a terrible person, leaving a terrible trail behind.

His mom looked at him too, at the highlight of bags under his eyes because he couldn’t sleep with the lights on, the hesitance because he had been keeping secrets for a reason. “I think you know the answer to that.”

Dallon sniffled, letting his phone fall into the middle console and looking out the window, anyway.


	48. Chapter 47: Relearning How to Be Okay

When the sun leaked into the room Brendon cracked an eye open, heavy with the feeling of sleep, and groaned while Dallon quietly tugged on his jeans. He grimaced, he hadn’t meant to wake him, but Brendon was up with the sun most days anyway, his body not wanting to let him sleep more than a few hours lately. He sat up, stretching his arms above his head, and things didn’t feel perfect but at least they felt better. That was a step.

“Morning, sunshine.” Brendon greeted, watching Dallon zip up his jeans and reach around to grab at one of Brendon’s sweatshirts.

“Good morning. You slept really well. No tossing and turning or talking in your sleep or nightmares. I can tell cause when you’re having a good dream you smile a little, and I woke up a couple of times. You were smiling. I’m glad you did well last night.” Dallon second guessed a pink sweatshirt with a heart pattern and grabbed a plain black one instead. “Sharing clothes with you is hard when you get most of it from Justice.”

“Shut up.” Brendon laughed, extending an arm until Dallon sat on the edge of the bed and pressed a kiss to his mouth. He felt better today. A little better. “Not all Justice. Thrift stores too. Tyler has a knack for finding ridiculous stuff and he used to point it out as a joke but it’s the kind of stuff I wear, so. Y’know. Don’t judge me.”

“I would never.” Dallon put a hand to his chest like Brendon had offended him and then stole the resulting smile with another kiss, he’d really missed him during the past couple of weeks. “Your mom made breakfast, she wanted me to wake you anyway. I’m staying to eat with you before volunteering.”

“Okay.” Brendon watched Dallon get up and cross the room to root through Brendon’s desk drawer for a hairbrush, not bothering to ask because he had long since made himself at home. “So, I had a dream that I was auditioning for some movie and I got the role and I was trying to convince the director to let my character be gay. Psychoanalyze me?”

Dallon turned to look at him as he pulled the brush through knotted hair, always getting so messy when he slept. “You stay true to who you are even in situations where you have to pretend to be someone you’re not.” He figured, pointing the brush at him.

“Oh. I was gonna say that one day I’m gonna be a famous actor, but whatever.” They both laughed, and Dallon pulled his excess hair out of the brush and threw it away before he climbed onto the bed and tackled Brendon in a hug, pushing him back down onto the pillows.

“Back to sleep.” He concluded with a playful sigh, and Brendon giggled, hooking a leg around Dallon’s body and resting his foot on the small of his back. Dallon peeked up at him, grinning sinuously like a shark, and shifted up to catch Brendon’s lips like his prey.

Brendon made a noise of acknowledgment when Dallon hovered over him, holding his waist tight when Brendon brought both legs up to hook around his waist. it wasn’t a no, it was a maybe I’m okay, maybe we could get away with it, and Brendon sighed, letting his mouth fall open for Dallon’s as they kissed.

Dallon pushed up Brendon’s shirt, didn’t take it off but let his fingers touch bare skin, and Brendon arched his back, squirming underneath him and kissing harder until Dallon had to pull away for air. But Brendon just captured his lips again, he didn’t want air, he just wanted Dallon, and he went to tug at his sweatshirt when Brendon’s mom called them down for breakfast.

Dallon sat up, wiping his mouth, and Brendon was breathing heavy when he stared up at him, cheeks red. He knew it probably would have ended up like last time, him freaking out the second Dallon tried to strip him bare, but at least he was making some sort of progress. Dallon took his hand, helping him sit up, and said, “To be continued, Urie.”

Breathlessly, Brendon nodded. Maybe he’d like that.

* * *

That night Dallon ended up back at Brendon’s house because they never really wanted to be apart for long. After their break, Brendon just wanted to be with him. Make up for lost time. That feeling of regret sat like a rock in his stomach, though, that night as Dallon slept soundly in his bed.

Brendon stared at the ceiling, at the dinosaur holding a cake in the darkness of his room because it wasn’t light without the stars. It was a cloudy night, there were no stars out there either. The moon had been stolen by the fog and he had no idea what it must be like to be hidden up there in the dark. He already felt so in the dark all the time, anyway.

He felt the cool metal from Dallon’s piercing press against his bare arm, and subconsciously he went to tug his short sleeve down. It was cold tonight, Dallon was sound asleep against his side, and Brendon couldn’t stop thinking about how he had slept on the cold bed of a hospital where you couldn’t tell left from right. Where the lights were on all the time and you had to line up to take medicine and everyone was a stranger.

He drifted off to sleep at some point but his body ached and he was cold, anxious, tossing and turning. He’d never been a good sleeper. Especially not on nights where he had so much on his mind.

“Brendon.” A voice whispered and Brendon made a noise of discontent as he awoke, squinting in the darkness. It was still nighttime. Still dark. Dallon was still there. “Hey, you were kicking in your sleep. Were you having a nightmare?”

“Mhm.” Brendon rubbed at his eyes, going to lean against Dallon’s body innately as he pulled on the covers. His skin was clammy. Cold. “Sorry. I know you probably don’t want me to be like, up your ass, but-“

“It’s okay.” Dallon whispered, pulling him in closer and wrapping an arm around him protectively. “When you’re having nightmares, it’s okay.” Brendon made a noise of appreciation and buried his face in his chest, feeling his heart beat, and Dallon added, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Mm-mm. Just wanna sleep.” Brendon whispered, tugging sleepily at his shirt. He was sick of trying to find the words. He just wanted to go without them for a minute. Dallon nodded and curled in on him, pushing his nose against his forehead and leaving a kiss for good measure.

Brendon tightened his grip on Dallon’s side and refused to let go, scared that if he did he’d lose him. He never wanted to lose him again. Dallon held him right back, so in sync, and at least he felt the same. That meant something. Everything had to mean something. Especially when they were them.

Brendon was cold, and he buried his face in Dallon’s chest to try and remind himself he was alive.

* * *

The strangest thing about southern Nevada was that even in the winter there were birds because it never got so cold that they wanted to go south. Waking up to hear birds chirping was something you got used to eventually, when you lived somewhere where there was never a break. But when Brendon woke up Sunday morning with a head on his chest and this feeling in his stomach like maybe he wasn't making all the wrong choices, he could hear the birds chirping and he listened for a few minutes, his eyes closed, as he brushed his fingers through Dallon’s hair. He loved the sound of the birds in the morning, when the sun peeked over the mountains and everything felt like home.

He sighed deep from his stomach and Dallon shifted suddenly, grunting as he arched his back under the covers. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Brendon asked, rubbing Dallon’s shoulder carefully.

“Mm-mm.” Dallon yawned, stretching and then curling up into his side once more. “M’just done sleeping.”

“Oh.” Brendon’s eyes followed the way Dallon’s fluttered, his eyelashes dark on flushed cheeks. He was so beautiful. Sleeping, awake, he was always so beautiful, and Brendon didn’t see how he didn’t know that. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mmm. Yeah. Your bed is so comfortable.” Dallon groaned, stretching out an arm, using Brendon as a pillow. “So are you. My baby.” He added quietly, kissing his chest through his shirt. Brendon loved him in the mornings, when he was sleepy and disgruntled, still milky tired and warm from a dream and with his guard down. A few minutes where Dallon’s guard was down were a good few minutes in any regard.

He rubbed Dallon’s shoulder gently and Dallon smiled, peeking up with one eye squinted open at him. “Good morning.” Brendon said quietly, thumbing his cheekbone adoringly. “You’re so cute when you wake up. You look like a bunny.”

“Stop, you’re cuter.” He returned, poking his chin lovingly. Brendon smiled back at him, he loved him so much sometimes, and Dallon shifted to sit up on his forearms. “Hey, you’re still having nightmares?”

“Yeah.” Brendon admitted, playing with the hem of Dallon’s shirt. “It’s okay. Just the usual stuff. I’m getting used to it.”

“It’s not something you should have to get used to.” He lamented.

“I know.” Brendon sighed, sliding his hand up Dallon’s arm, shoulder, to the back of his head. He said nothing more, just looked at him, too tired to talk about it. Nightmares were just nightmares. There was nothing he could do about them. There was no use in talking about it. He just stared at Dallon, prayed he couldn’t read his mind.

Dallon stared back at him, his sleepy eyes watching him too, and crawled up to kiss him without a warning. Brendon wrapped a hand around his neck and sighed against his lips, it felt like forever since this fit. It had been forever. Dallon’s heart beat and Brendon loved that feeling, the feeling of him being alive, the excitement when Brendon kissed him. He pulled away softly, let out a quiet huff, rested his chin on his shoulder. Searched his eyes and wondered how he’d ever gone a day without him.

“I missed you.” Brendon whispered, poking at the scar on Dallon’s chin as Dallon rubbed his back slowly, carefully.

Dallon’s lips curved in that way where it wasn’t a smile but it wasn’t not a smile, it always took a lot to get him to smile, and Brendon kissed it away, anyway. Pulled away to look him in the eye, almost forgot how fucking beautiful he was, and placed a hand on his cheek. Dallon tilted his head up to kiss him again, and again, and again until Brendon was pushing fingers against his sides and Dallon was tugging him closer by the waist.

Brendon was on the fence between not wanting anybody to touch him and wanting to replace those bad memories, and while he was unsure he didn’t want to mess things up. He didn’t want to go too fast and suddenly end up back where he’d been a month prior, having a panic attack because he wasn’t ready yet. He wanted to be doing this for the right reasons.

He let Dallon kiss him for a minute because it felt good and he missed it, feeling comfortable, actually comfortable, until he realized that this was the body he wasn’t comfortable in anymore. He was getting there, very slowly, but not quite. “Okay, I think that’s it for the day.” He pulled back to pat Dallon’s chest, hesitant but knowing his limit. He could hear Dallon sigh, not annoyed, just maybe a little physically frustrated, and Brendon knew, but they both got it. Baby steps, but in the right direction.

“You sure you wanna stop?” Dallon asked, more for him than anything, smirking up at Brendon when the boy rolled his eyes and laughed. Dallon put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I can live with that.”

“Sorry.” He apologized, sitting up and stretching his legs. Maybe he’d be okay with jerking him off or something, trying to ease into things, because he knew this was a lot to ask of his boyfriend too. It was just that he didn’t want to chance things when he didn’t know how easily he could. “I wanna do something for you, I just...”

“Hey, no, I get it. Don’t worry about it. I have a hand.” He shrugged and Brendon tried to smile, but even the thought of Dallon doing that didn’t make his stomach stir. “Besides, you’re not ready. I’m okay with that.”

“Give me some time. I’m just trying to figure things out right now.” Brendon assured him, adjusting his shirt and trying not to look like he was just a tease. He knew it wasn’t a big deal. He just felt guilty anyway.

“Hey, I get it. Take your time. I’m in no rush. I’ve got you forever.” He said like a vow and it made Brendon’s stomach ache with this unfathomable adoration. “I gotta go anyway, Urie. No correlation to us not having sex, of course.”

“Stop.” Brendon kicked at him when he got up, smiling because he knew Dallon didn’t mind. He was a great person in that regard. “Mom making you come home?”

“I’m going to church, actually.” He zipped up his hoodie and looked up to catch Brendon’s look of surprise. He didn’t know Dallon was going back to church. He thought... he didn’t know what he thought, but maybe it really had been too long since they’d talked. “I went last weekend and I think I should go more. I think it’s good for me.”

“No correlation to you getting drunk just hours after.” Brendon joked, and Dallon half smiled. “Which we should still talk about, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dallon leaned down to wrap a hand around his neck and pressed their lips together, hard enough to leave Brendon smiling in spite of everything. “But not on God’s day. I will see you later, yes?”

“Yes.” Brendon confirmed, and he felt a little better when Dallon headed out of the room, smiling down at him like he were the most beautiful thing to come back to. “Wait, Dal?” He called, and Dallon swung back around, poking his head into the room. “Have fun at church. I’m glad you’re going back.”

“Thanks. I’m glad I’m going back too.” He nodded his head gratefully and Brendon did too, only smiling when Dallon blew him a kiss and slipped out again, on his way to revisit his past. Brendon wondered if maybe he should get back to church, too, though he’d decided pretty early on that he didn’t want to go anymore.

Still, Brendon thought, maybe believing in something would give him the answers he was looking for.

* * *

His Monday afternoon ritual, Brendon closed the door behind him, set his backpack down, chose a soda from Ms. Kenny’s mini fridge. Today it was Diet Coke. Over the span of the week he always composed a little list of things to tell her, this week it was about how he and Dallon’s break was officially over, and how they talked about their communication issue, and how he kept having panic attacks in public. Because that one scared him a little, and it was the only non-positive on his list today.

“You’ve always been negatively reactant to social situations.” She observed after he’d told the grueling story of the bus and the Starbucks bathroom. “The New Year’s party is one thing, especially given the circumstances, but being alone out in the world may have triggered you into thinking you were unsafe. Do you think you’re unsafe, Brendon?”

He fidgeted, tugging at the chain on his neck and shrugging. “I don't know. Sometimes. If I’m with people then I’m cautious, but alone I just... freak out. I’m sick of feeling like someone’s gonna jump out of nowhere and attack me.” He had always had stupid irrational fears, that every time he was out alone someone was going to kidnap or murder or rape him, he had so many nightmares about it, but he had no idea where it all came from. Now it seemed more rationalized than it had then, but scary all the same. “I’m still scared to go to the school bathrooms.”

“Certain environments can be triggering.” She reasoned, writing something down that he could only assume was adding to his list of fears. “Is there anything specific that you find triggers you when you have panic attacks or are there no similar qualities or correlations?”

“I don’t think it’s anything specific. It’s just anywhere. Any time. I have these uncontrollable panic attacks all the time and I don’t know how to stop.” He wiggled around in his seat, pulling at his sleeves. “I just keep thinking of things that have happened to me or things that scare me and then I can’t seem to get myself under control.”

“And are a lot of these fears irrational?” She asked, trying to piece it together. At that he nodded, and she clucked her tongue in consideration.

“Okay. I’ll tell you what I think. I think, Brendon, that you hold on to things and don’t want to let go, in the sense that you’re letting all of your past fears and minor experiences affect your present. What happened recently is separate from the irrational fears of your youth. These are things you don’t know why you’re afraid of and you’re letting them dictate you. I think you should make peace with the things you can’t control and try to find some serenity in who you are now.”

“But I don’t know who I am now. I just want to be who I used to be.” He whined, but sounded like a child when he heard himself say it. He wanted to be his old self. His childhood self. He never should had become this.

“I don’t think you can, Brendon.” She said, and it sounded apologetic, but insistent, sometimes she had to push because he didn’t exactly get it. Or he didn’t want to get it.

“Can we change the subject?” He asked in lieu of a response, feeling confronted, and she nodded, jotting something down as if he would miss it.

“Sure. What else did you want to talk about today? You gave me a few positives. Do you have more negatives or would you like to stay on the positive side today?”

He fidgeted in his seat again, always rather uncomfortable talking about himself when people were judging his every word. Analyzing him. That was why he never wanted to go back to therapy. “Uh, I have another negative. Or I guess it’s not a negative. It’s not something that happened. It’s just something I feel.” She nodded, telling him to go ahead, and he started to pick at the skin around his nails as he’d already chipped the polish off. “I, uh. I feel detached from my body. Like I’m watching it from outside of me. I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean or if it’s a bad thing or if it’s normal.”

She watched him skeptically, jotting that down. “It’s not entirely abnormal. A lot of people do that too. Do you dissociate often?”

He shrugged, not bothering to calculate. He never really kept track. “I guess so.”

“Well, that can be a coping mechanism. It’s typical in people who have been traumatized. Now, when you dissociate, do you see yourself in the situation where you were traumatized?”

“No. And I don’t think it’s cause of that. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. Dissociating whenever I feel out of place. I don’t know how to explain it.” He broke off a piece of his nail, so fragile, and ran his thumb over the jagged edge. “I don’t know. I just thought it was something you’d wanna know.”

“No, yeah, that can be very important to know. Thank you for telling me. Maybe you and I can do a little research on that then, yeah? Figure out what that means for you?” She suggested, going to click awake her laptop, and he nodded, inching forward in his seat. There were some things he just didn’t want to do alone.

“Sure. Yeah. Okay.” He agreed, because figuring anything out at this point sounded like a great idea.

* * *

As January came to an end Brendon tried to reflect on it as he would any other month, but it felt different somehow. More defining. It felt like the beginning of it had been another lifetime. A lifetime that had ended on an acquaintance’s bathroom floor, gasping for air but maybe not getting enough of it. In an alternative universe maybe Brendon died on that floor that night. That was why all of this felt so surreal.

Over the course of a month Brendon had grown into a liar; or perhaps more truthful than he had been. Everybody kept a watchful eye on him but he bristled away, denied the help, lied and said he didn’t need it. But the beauty of that was that in such a fragile state, he didn’t lie well. Everybody knew, and nobody said it.

February dawned and it didn’t exactly feel new. Still cold for a Nevada winter, it felt the same as January, less refreshing after the groundhog had seen his shadow. Used to panic by now he had stayed glued to whatever pride he had left, contrarily lying too when anybody asked if he was okay. Nobody had to know. Dallon especially. Not after what had happened, their break, the realization that maybe he should put less pressure on him.

But the dichotomy between Dallon and Brendon was that Dallon had matured lying so he knew. Of course he knew. When you knew someone as well as Dallon knew him, learning their hiding places becomes inevitable.

They promised they’d communicate better. Brendon knew that. Kept it in the back of his mind. So maybe if it got really, really bad then he’d tell him. In the meantime, they found a balance of Brendon pretending to be okay and Dallon pretending to believe him, though behind his back he tried to figure out how to help.

He wanted to talk about what had happened. He really did. But there were only so many permutations for the words I regret it, and he was sick of saying that because in the grand scheme of things it really just got him nowhere.

He wanted to take it back. He wanted to erase what had happened. There were two, but not enough to say what Brendon wished he could. He didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to make up for the time that had been stolen from him, stop feeling the need to hide, start feeling safe again. Get baptized again, or become a born-again virgin, or reclaim his sexuality.

What happened to him couldn’t ruin him. That was what everybody expected. That was what Shane wanted. To ruin him. To make him dwell on things out of his control, harsh words and foreign hands and unconsent.

“-No, I mean, I think she’s a good person, she just doesn’t know how to teach.” Dallon rambled as he unlocked the apartment door, letting Brendon in first as always and dropping his backpack on the floor.

“I feel like health is pretty self-explanatory.” Brendon figured, toeing off his shoes and peeling off his jacket to hang up by the door. “And as if you could do it better.”

“Shut up.” Dallon shoved his shoulder with a laugh and Brendon giggled, shoving him back and making himself at home again. It was easy to do there. Where he felt the safest. “I’m not saying I could do it better. I’m just saying I prefer to get A’s on my tests and that’s hard when I’m not being taught everything that’s on them.”

Brendon raised an eyebrow at him, making a comical face. “You’re so pretentious. And if you don’t know how the reproductive system works, Dal, you’ve got issues.”

“Whatever. How was your day?” Dallon reached out for Brendon as he headed toward the living room and Brendon turned, going to take his hands playfully in between them. “You seem to be in a good mood, Urie.”

Brendon shrugged. Put on a fake smile. Some days he was a better actor than others. “I’m alive. I guess that’s enough. How was your day?”

“Long.” Dallon followed him to the couch, bags under his eyes, wearing the sweater he always wore when he was tired, Brendon had grown to know it well.

It was the last day before February break began and the only thing Brendon had plans to do was think. Pathetic to a fault, having to plan his thinking around a tight schedule of pouting and crying and wishing against things he couldn’t change, but he needed the time. All he had was time, yet not enough of it. He was sick of the stop and go. He had to see what his next step was.

“Same.” He sighed and plopped down onto the couch, leaning back and wedging himself in between the arm of the couch and Dallon’s side. “Hey, Dallon?” He hummed and Dallon nodded, patting his lap, so Brendon kicked his socked feet up to rest on his thighs. “I wanna talk to you about something. It’s been on my mind and I kind of can’t shake it.”

“Sure,” Dallon agreed with apprehension in his voice, as they were trying out honesty.

Brendon closed his eyes as they hung heavy, tired from all of his thinking and talking and not actually doing, not yet. “So, I think I wanna try to sleep with you again. And I can’t promise it’s gonna go well, because it probably won’t at all, but I need to try again. I mean, I’ve been reading a lot about sexual assault survivors and a bunch of them say that they felt, like, empowered after reclaiming their sexuality. I think maybe that’s what I should do. Try to take back my body. If it doesn’t work then we wait again, but there’s no harm in trying.

Dallon ran a hand up and down his leg slowly, and that was the thing. Dallon was always so careful, made him feel safe when it mattered. “If you want to and you’re confident in that choice then yeah. We can try it. But you said a couple of days ago that you didn’t feel ready. I don’t want you to feel like you need to sleep with me to make yourself feel better about what happened. I mean, you told me before that you thought having sex would help you pretend everything was okay. But it’s not. And it doesn’t.”

“No, I know.” He reached out blindly to grab at Dallon’s hand. Dallon learned his secrets. Figured out why he was guarded. He trusted him. This wasn’t some false attempt at safety. “But I think I need to get rid of that experience. Or at least try to build new ones around it. Keep living my life in spite of it. I can’t do that by mulling around and feeling bad about myself all the time. I feel comfortable with you. I wanna feel comfortable again. I need you.”

“And you’ve got me, you know that. And if it’s what you really want, then we’ll try it. We don’t have to, of course, but—“

“No pressure. I know.” Brendon smiled sleepily and crossed his ankles, stretching his feet and his shoulders and arching his back like a cat that was preparing for its eighteen hour nap. “I can’t promise that I’m not gonna be weird and freak out but I want to get back to my life. I need to get back to my life.”

He could hear the warmth in the way Dallon spoke, tracing his thumbnail over the back of Brendon’s hand. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you feel better, then. We’re in this together. As long as you know what you want. And even if you don’t then I’ll help you find it.”

Brendon yawned, nodding, and extended his fingers languidly. He was too tired to talk anymore. Think about his impurity and how trapped he felt in his body. He just wanted to replace the bad memories with better ones. Maybe it would end up the same way it had last time, but then again a lot had changed between then and now.

“Hey.” Brendon pushed the heel of his foot against the inside of Dallon’s thigh, making him look up from where he’d started to drift off. “You look exhausted, Dal.”

“Haven’t been sleeping well.” He sighed, cheek in hand and prominent bags under tired blue eyes. “I just want eight hours of sleep without any medication. Sleeping pills are kind of eating me alive right now. My mind just... doesn’t stop.” He pointed to his head and Brendon nodded in understanding, they were always so in sync. He was tired too, but it was the kind of tired sleep couldn’t shake. It had been a while since he’d closed his eyes and not seen a ghost of a boy he wished away behind his eyelids. He reached out to slide a hand up Dallon’s arm, feeling the cotton sleeve under his fingertips. God, what it was like to be alive. What it was like to wish you weren’t.

“Can we take a nap?” He requested quietly without pressing the issue further. Dallon nodded, letting his gaze linger on Brendon’s for a minute like he were really trying to think. About what, Brendon had no idea, but it was impossible to decipher before he seemed to give up and let his eyes fall shut.

The feeling of Dallon rubbing his leg gently lulled him to sleep as his mind wandered, thinking about school and work and home and Dallon, how things had been different lately. How they were both just trying to get back to normal. This felt as normal as it could get right now.

Brendon hadn’t known that he’d fallen asleep until the quiet sound of footsteps made him stir. Afternoon light bled in through the balcony window, making the room a little too bright, but it was warm, comfortable, and Brendon squinted as he tried to make sense of where he was.

Dallon’s hand laid motionless on Brendon’s calf, the boy deep in sleep, and Brendon peeked up to see Dallon’s mother examining them with intrigue. She caught his gaze and smiled warmly, a nonverbal you look like you’re doing better, and Brendon offered a lazy smile. Better, no, but he had a better day. That counted for something.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” She apologized, but Brendon simply shook his head. Any more napping and he’d never get to sleep that night. “Dinner is almost ready; I didn’t want to disturb you any earlier.”

“It’s fine. We just had a really long day, it was quiet, you know. I’ll wake him.” He nodded his head toward his boyfriend, his head tilted back against the couch as he slept soundly, never having been a heavy sleeper but somehow managing to not wake up.

“Okay.” She nodded gratefully and disappeared into the kitchen. His stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten, not for a while, though he wasn’t sure how long they’d been asleep for.

He sat up carefully and rubbed Dallon’s shoulder, watching his eyelashes flutter open, disoriented until he met Brendon’s eyes. He half smiled, sleep in his gaze, and leaned forward to bump his nose against Brendon’s. “Hi.” He hummed lazily. “Sorry. I shoulda carried you to my room, probably woulda been more comfortable.”

“No, the couch was fine. And you fell asleep before me. You’re tired, I don’t blame you. We’ll sleep well in your bed tonight; I’ll hog all the blankets and kick in my sleep. It’ll be fun.” Brendon smiled when Dallon looked at him, an eyebrow arched. “Come on, your mom says that dinner is almost ready. And I’m starving.”

“Sure.” Dallon got up and stretched his arms above his head, falling asleep sitting up was uncomfortable but still somehow worth it with the lack of sleep he’d been getting. “So I had this dream where you and I were on some weird conquest or something, I don’t exactly know, but we were getting sent to all these guys who kept sending us to other guys and we couldn’t figure out how to get where we needed to be. Psychoanalyze me.”

“Um, I think it means that the world keeps pushing us in different directions and we don’t know where to go.” Brendon reached out and nudged Dallon in the side because it made so much sense, when he thought about it. Dallon smiled, he didn’t get how Brendon just knew sometimes. Knew how to make light of a bad situation. He had a habit of doing it himself, never really realized it, but it was heartwarming, sometimes. To see a boy that had fallen so far find a way to smile about something so minuscule.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. C’mere.” He pulled Brendon in with an arm around his neck and Brendon smiled as his bones glowed, slowly mending. Slowly, slowly, but surely mending.

* * *

He hadn’t bothered to check the clock in what felt like far too long, though the concept of time had long since become a lost one on him. The rest of the world was fast asleep outside as Brendon’s tired eyes wandered over useless terms, trying to ingrain them in his brain. He rubbed at his eyes underneath his glasses tiredly, trying to wake himself up some, and then gave up and removed the black frames. He was getting a headache.

Dallon had been staring at his sketchbook for a good fifteen minutes with no motion. Just staring, like he was frozen in the thought that if he tried hard enough, whatever he wanted to get done would do itself. But it didn’t, and it wouldn’t, and he just stared, exhausted.

All of a sudden Dallon put his sketchbook down on his desk and sighed. “I’m gonna get some water. You want anything? Any snacks?”

“Um, yeah. I’m gonna come with you.” Brendon crawled out of Dallon’s bed and followed him toward the door. His mind was wandering again. He could use a break from studying.

They kept their steps quiet as they slipped out of Dallon’s bedroom and made their way down the hall, their plush socks against smooth wood floors making a soft pitter patter as the floor creaked underneath them. Dallon’s mom was asleep, she had been for a couple of hours, and Brendon hadn’t checked the clock but he was sure it was after midnight. The darkness of the kitchen proved it, for the little glowing digits on the microwave said one forty-two. Had they really been awake that long?

Brendon stood by while Dallon got himself a glass of water, asking Brendon if he wanted some though he denied. Instead he watched him move swiftly around the kitchen, rocking back and forth on his heels. The lights of the city outside were off, even the moon was tucking itself in, but Brendon liked being awake at night. There was too much to do. Too much to see.

“I like it in here at night. It’s like a liminal space.” Brendon observed as he wiggled his toes, feeling the cool tile through his socks like the cool air from outside had worked its way in and made a home. Dallon turned to smile at him and set his glass of water down, moving across the kitchen to reach out and take his hand, a proposition.

Brendon took it. “I know. It’s solitary.” He pulled him close, a hand tucked in his and the other on his waist, forgetting the way the refrigerator door hung open and let out a draft of cold air. “Perfect for us. Just us.”

Us against the world, baby. You and me.

“Dance with me,” Dallon requested, voice smooth like honey and probably three times as sweet, dripping with the taste of comfort that Brendon so often found in him.

His tunnel vision focused on Dallon when he nodded, snack forgotten, and started to sway against Dallon’s body, a welcoming warmth that held him captivated. The room was illuminated only by the light of the refrigerator, shining an artificial glow on Dallon’s pale skin and making Brendon’s eyes appear golden. He kept his gaze on Dallon’s, trying to read him well enough to tell what was on his mind. He didn’t ask, didn’t bother to, just let the amicable silence linger.

His gaze flickered down toward Dallon’s lips, to his nose, up to his neat eyebrows above calmly settled eyes. Brendon told him he loved him with a simple smile and a flutter of his eyelashes. Softhearted, honeyed. A look that Dallon had learned to read well over the last year. He’d mastered the art of a sentimental response as well, the way he scanned Brendon’s face with adoration before he turned to dip him, making both of them laugh before their noses bumped together and he pulled him back up.

“What are you thinking, babe?” Brendon asked softly, and the words lingered heavily in the air above them as the two moved against each other. Dallon’s chain still hung from his neck, light against his skin, and the weight was a constant reminder. He was with the boy who loved him despite himself, dancing with him the only way they knew how: gentle, careful, lacking coordination. Brendon was always uncoordinated. Dallon had learned to be.

Dallon smiled lazily. “Um, I used to spend weeks in Salt Lake City with my parents and grandparents over the summer, we’d have these barbecues with my parents’ siblings and my cousins and y’know, my whole family. Back when we were more in touch with them. My grandparents on my mom’s side would stay in the guest room— not ours with the ugly ceiling— and so I would stay up and bake cookies with my grandma at midnight. She would give me advice all the time, I was in my early teens so I took it in stride, really needed it at the time. And you know what she used to tell me?”

Brendon’s lips twitched into a smile, fond memories of that off-white ceiling drifting into his mind. “What’s that?”

“She told me that when I fall in love, I have to picture myself slow dancing with them in the kitchen in the middle of the night. Eating ice cream on the floor because it means more than at the table, laughing too much, making breakfast on Sunday mornings. Making dinner for each other and getting home from work to surprises and learning our children’s favorite meals one day. She said if I can see us together in the kitchen, then it’s worth it. It’s all about who I see dancing in the kitchen. And, well...” He spun Brendon around, smiling bright, neon eyes burning through the dark. “I can see us dancing in the kitchen forever.”

“That’s really sweet, Dal,” Brendon ran a hand down his chest, palm flat against it, and leaned in close to whisper, “for the record, I can see us dancing in the kitchen forever too. Maybe our own kitchen, though. Just a thought.”

He tugged at the neckline of Dallon’s shirt and Dallon smiled like he could see it all laid out in front of him. “Yeah, baby. Of course.” He slid his hand up to slip his fingers into the tips of his hair. “I like to picture it all sometimes. Us, dancing in the kitchen. With our natural light and the fresh breeze coming in from the open window. Almost burning your oversized pancakes because that’s the only way you know how to make them.”

“Me wearing your shirts and no pants, obviously.” Brendon added and they both laughed, as Dallon leaned down to press his forehead against Brendon’s.

“I think she was right. You know that when you picture yourself with the love of your life in your kitchen then you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

And in that moment, Brendon could see it. The rest of their lives. How he hoped it would be. He thought of the way they spent that one night sitting on the floor of Dallon’s kitchen, sharing a carton of ice cream with too big spoons that knocked in the darkness, laughing over nothing. The way he felt like maybe he belonged there, with Dallon making him feel safe. He wanted to feel that safe all the time. Dancing around the kitchen in the refrigerator light made him feel that way. He wrapped an arm around Dallon tighter, one hand on his side, the other resting against his upper back. Fingered the loose fabric of his shirt, planted his balled-up hand in between his shoulder blades.

“Thank you for keeping me safe this past year. And putting up with me without complaining even once. We’ve been through a lot together and I just...” He trailed off, looking down at their socked toes bumping together carelessly. “I wanted to say thanks. It’s been hard for me lately, trying to remember who I was before all of this. Or who I want to be, I guess. I don’t really know anymore.” He let out a huff, and Dallon dipped his head to try and catch the look on his face that he was trying so desperately to hide. “I’ve felt pressured to be who people want me to be. To put on a happy face and pretend nothing ever happened. I have to reach some quota that I can’t always manage, you know? I’m always someone’s son or brother or friend but you make me feel different. I feel safe with you.”

Dallon tilted his head down, slipped a finger under Brendon’s chin to meet his gaze. “Where’s this coming from?”

Brendon let his eyes settle on the azure ones in front of him. “I, uh.” He slid his hand up his back to rest on his shoulder, hesitant. “I heard you talking to my mom in the kitchen about me. About how I used to be happy and that I should smile more and that you guys miss me. And I’m sorry I can’t be the person that you started dating a year ago or fell in love with but I’m trying, Dallon, and—“

“Hey, hey. Shh.” Dallon pulled him closer and buried his nose in Brendon’s hair, and only then did Brendon realize that he’d been tearing up. He tightened his grip on Dallon’s side, pressed his nose against his neck, burrowed against his chest. “I know, honey. I know you’re trying. That’s okay. I fell in love with all of you, Brendon. We’re okay, you and me. I’m gonna be here for you. I am here for you. You don’t have to worry.”

“Okay.” Brendon muttered, feeling extremities flatten down his messy hair on the back of his head, the sound of Dallon’s heart thumping in his chest keeping him focused long enough to think, think, think.

“So, um. That means...” Dallon trailed off, and yeah. That means.

“Yeah. I know that there’s a history of depression in my family and that you and my mom and probably the rest of my family have been lying to me about it.” Brendon pulled away from the embrace, catching immediately the guilt pooling in Dallon’s eyes. He hadn’t meant to. Really.

“Brendon, I’m-“

Brendon shook his head in interruption and Dallon looked down when the light reflected the chain. His chain. “Stop. Don’t apologize to me. I can’t—“ He stopped and sighed. “Look, Dallon, I don’t wanna do this anymore. I don’t wanna harbor this unbearable feeling of guilt over something I can’t control. And you can’t control it either, okay? So stop, please. I know you don’t mean for it to be this way but I’m feeling kind of pressured to be okay when I’m not. I need time. And you need to be okay with that.”

Hurt flickered on Dallon’s face. “I can be.”

“Good.” Brendon stepped away to look at his face. “Don’t ever lie to me again. Don’t keep things from me. Don’t pretend to not know something when you do. I don’t want to fight with you and I don’t want to resent you so don’t give me a reason to. I really need you right now.”

Dallon nodded fervently. “Okay. I’m sorry. I’m gonna try to do better. And you know I’m here for you. I’m always here for you.” He extended a hand, so Brendon took it in his own and stepped forward, deciding that he’d let one mistake go. “I’m proud of you, kitten.” Brendon really wished he could say he was proud of himself too.

He felt like he belonged in the place where one sock in every load of laundry disappeared to. In some reality where nothing made sense but nothing was supposed to, only he was twisting and turning, trying to find some solid ground when everything around him was pulling it out from under his feet. Being poked and prodded and pulled in different directions. He was living in a lost and found, except who was going to retrieve him?

He lived like a ghost. A shadow of his former self. His mother was right. He wasn’t himself anymore. But how do you measure yourself? He’d tried countless time but it all proved fruitless. A bit obsessive, a lot compulsive. Hopeless dreamer, lost amidst a fog of who he wanted to be versus who he was versus who he was trying desperately to find. Anxious, scared, sad. Fixated on the Brendon that he didn’t know anymore, fearful that he had been better before. He never wanted to face it, but now he had to.

Rest in peace to his naivety because the cold, raw truth was the lone survivor of the shipwreck. He hoped for a while that he could forget it all, wake up with amnesia to a day of warmth and healthy gratitude. He’d stretch out and go outside in the sun, maybe. Let his skin hydrate itself, drink up the atmosphere like he were living on cloud nine. Only that couldn’t happen and it wouldn’t, and each new day Brendon woke up more apathetic than ever. He hadn’t realized until now, but he completely agreed with his mother and Dallon. He was losing touch with himself. Who the hell was he anymore? He was just... used. A brand name bought and sold. Useless. Like a stolen car in a parking garage. So much wasted potential.

“I’m nothing to be proud of, but thanks.” He tried to smile, and Dallon grazed his cheek with his palm.

“I’m proud of you every day, Urie.” Dallon whispered, eyes glistening with this adoration that Brendon couldn’t seem to understand.

Dallon held him tight as they swayed back and forth, floor creaking almost silently in the way that it did. They felt crystallized in an hourglass, frozen in time, and the night stretched over them like a guardian, like they were sons of the moon themselves. Brendon listened to the thump of his heartbeat and wished he was better, and Dallon felt his pulse point and thanked God he was alive.

“Can I tell you something?” Dallon asked quietly and Brendon nodded, eyes closed against his shoulder. “I’m gonna go back to therapy.”

Brendon stopped, pulling away to look at him incredulously. “You are?” He asked, and Dallon nodded. “Wow, Dal, that... that’s really good.”

“I’m hoping it will be.” He said, which meant he wasn’t sure it would help, but at this point anything was better than nothing. When he was doing everything he could to hurt himself then anything would help.

“I’m proud of you for trying.” Brendon told him truthfully, running a hand up his shoulder like he were searching for something in his eyes before he pulled him into a hug, more full of pride than he’d know. “I’m proud of you for a lot of things. I just think you need to hear that.”

“I do.” He nodded, and it felt like home when he leaned his head against Brendon’s. A home he found himself consistently demolishing. Smashing windows. Breaking down doors. He didn’t know how to stop. “Um.” He pulled away, looking down in between them like he were trying to ingrain their closeness in his mind before Brendon would pull away. “I have... something else to tell you.” He hesitated, watching Brendon nod gently. “I almost... kissed Ryan. During our break.”

Brendon pulled away suddenly, something unreadable in his eye. Dallon felt guilty immediately, the feeling familiar after so long, and Brendon just stared. Stared at him in the dark, the light of the refrigerator reflecting in their eyes, and asked quietly, “But you didn’t?”

“No. I didn’t. I didn’t really want to, either.” He assured him frantically, and still Brendon stared. “I just... self-sabotage to protect myself. I got drunk because I’m too much of a coward to be sober with my thoughts, and tried to give you a reason to leave me so I would stop fearing it because I can’t help but feel like you’re just waiting for the right time.”

Brendon’s eyes burned on blue ones and Dallon prayed he hadn’t ruined them. He always seemed to be the one doing that. Brendon was too good for him. Too innocent. Dallon was just a coward. It just wasn’t that he didn’t trust Brendon, but that he didn’t trust himself. Why should he when he never gave himself a reason to? He opened his mouth to apologize but Brendon shook his head wordlessly, enveloping him in another solid hug. Dallon hugged him back, shocked, but didn’t want to take it for granted. He realized then that he always did.

“I wish you treated this like it was permanent.” Brendon admitted softly, his cheek against Dallon’s shoulder. “You tell me you want me to treat us like we’re permanent but then you don’t, Dallon, and I just-“

“Hey, yes I do.” He interrupted, pulling away again to look him in the eye. “You don’t even know how permanent I treat this. That’s why I’m so worried. When you’ve messed up as much as me, and you’re used to losing people like I am, you defend yourself. I wouldn’t be so scared if you didn’t have so much potential to break my heart.”

“I suppose that’s supposed to be a compliment.” He figured, but he wasn’t mad. Couldn’t find it in himself to be. Just upset, was all. Self-aware. “You know what, though? It doesn’t matter. We were on a break. We didn’t define what that meant. I can’t be mad at you for using that time away from a relationship to do... whatever you were doing with him.”

“I wasn’t doing anything with him.” He defended himself.

“I don’t care.” Brendon sighed, shaking his head and pulling away. Saying he wasn’t mad, but he didn’t really know how he felt. It was so difficult to tell. “Really. It’s none of my business.”

“It is your business. You’re my boyfriend. Me almost cheating on you is your business. Look at me.” He cupped his cheek, tilting his face up to look at him when Brendon pouted. “I wasn’t doing anything with him. I cried about you and my dad and threw up and drank a bunch of vodka that he stole from his mother. I just need to get it all out sometimes. I’m sorry I tried to ruin us. But I’m telling you this because you told me not to hide things from you. I wanna be honest with you. Even when I mess up. Even when I mess up a few times in a row.”

Brendon looked between his eyes timidly, letting him brush hair behind his ear. He appreciated his honesty. He didn’t know anybody else that would admit to that and take the blame. “I’m sorry I asked to take a break.” He apologized, feeling ultimately like it was his fault. They were always so back and forth, blaming themselves and refusing to admit the others’ fault.

Dallon observed his face, calculating, and lamented, “You don’t have to apologize for everything, you know.”

“I’m kind of conditioned to do it.” He admitted, and Dallon frowned, reaching out to place both hands on his hips. “Look. I don’t... care. If you’re upset, then you can talk to Ryan. He’s your best friend. You have a history. I get that, and I’m okay with you guys talking. I’m really not a jealous person. I know it comes across that I am because I ask so many questions but that’s because I try to understand you. That’s a really hard thing to do. But Dallon. I know you wouldn’t try to hurt me. Not for the sake of hurting me, anyway.” He brushed Dallon’s hair with his fingers, making sure he was hanging onto his words. “But that’s the thing: you can’t hurt me. That won’t make me hate you and break up with you because you deserve it. That’s just unfair thinking. That would never make it better. That would make it worse. You would be hurting me more than you could ever hurt you. So don’t you dare.”

“I won’t. I promise. I won’t.” He swore, crossing his heart, and Brendon nodded transiently. “Besides...” He added, pulling him in by the waist when he thought he saw a smile. “I am so fucking crazy about you, Brendon Urie. You have me wrapped around your finger.” He lifted him and Brendon gasped, grabbing his shoulders as Dallon hoisted him onto the counter.

“Trust me,” Brendon wrapped his arms around his neck and Dallon smiled up at him, enamored. “I am way more wrapped around your finger.”

“Doubtful.” He bit back, and Brendon smiled, running his fingers through his hair. “Hey, listen, Urie. Never apologize to me. Sometimes I can get out of line. Tell me when I do so I can fix it. I never want to hurt you. And I’m gonna try not to. I swear.” He stuck out his pinky and Brendon linked his own with it, pulling him closer to kiss his hand.

“Good. Cause you don’t know what I’m capable of, Dallon Weekes. I’m protective of my heart.”

Dallon nodded, loved how fiercely he put himself first. “I know you are. I love that about you.”

“I love that about you too.” Brendon whispered, scratching at the back of his neck, though Dallon would never describe himself as prioritizing his heart over anybody else’s. “Which is why it would be a shame if you did anything to hurt me.” Dallon laughed at the hint of a threat, and Brendon added, “I know where you live.”

“You-“ Dallon pinched his waist and Brendon kicked him in the side playfully, deciding then that he would try to stop taking everything so seriously.

* * *

Sunday evening was cold and Brendon planned to be alone, as they could both use a night apart after having gotten used to it during their break. But sometimes things came up, like Dallon’s mother’s boyfriend staying the night and their walls being too thin. And Dallon calling Brendon without an answer. Brendon always answered, unless he was off getting lost. And sometimes he wanted to be found, but it was getting hard to tell when Brendon wanted to be found or stay lost. But there was no pain in trying.

Brendon found himself sitting at the lake where he and Dallon had wished on stars in December, for a better year that so far hadn’t come. Where years and years ago a man proposed to a woman and had a baby boy, a miracle baby, one that was purer than diamonds. That baby was Brendon’s now, a different kind of baby, older and more intimate but still somehow just as pure.

Now he had the lake all to himself, and the world felt like his for a moment. He felt the wind and heard the sounds of the city around him, but it was just him in this universe. Everything else faded away to nothing. Down at this hidden little lake where he would find himself relearning how to be okay, all in due time.

He knew the air like a lover. Salt and pine, the lingering remnants of gasoline from a station somewhere east of the lake because that was what you got way out here. But it was comforting in its familiarity, the sounds of midnight traveling beyond the barrier of nothing. Just off the road enough so that he was enveloped in the silence, where he could bathe in his own brokenness.

Brendon looked up toward the rest of the galaxy above him, stars stretching out across the wayward sky, and sighed as he let his eyes fall shut. There was something about the feeling of the cool air on his skin and the sight of stars casting their gazes upon him that felt promising. Right now it was just him and the lake and the sky, sharing a secret no one else was in on. The world was too big for him, and if he let his mind wander it scared him. He didn’t need to think about the rest of the world. It did nothing for him.

Slipping into a dreamy, hazy state of psychosis, Brendon felt himself begin to sway along with the cool breeze on his bare cheeks, flushed red and pale with the cold. But the smell of the lake and the cold front filled his senses, and he smiled, smiled despite himself. He loved the water. He always had. If he could he would work in a lighthouse, a home away from home. He could man the light and watch ships passing in the night, just as he felt he had done too often. He and higher possibilities.

Sure, a lighthouse. He’d been looking up too long, up at the big world around him, at everyone who knew better and everyone who tried their hand at the magic of what went wrong. Looking up was getting exhausting. But his lighthouse would give him a perfect view of the world he never really got to know. Or maybe he would only look out at the vast expanse of an ocean he had once been afraid of, where millions of crabs would walk over millions of feet, but at least he’d be looking in a new direction.

He’d collect seashells and cable knit sweaters and he could hide in his lighthouse all the time. People could visit by boat, if he really wanted them to. Dallon and their friends and his family. He could even see Dallon at the lighthouse with him, wearing a too big yellow raincoat and walking around outside in the morning fog and dusky mist. Just him and the sea, some comfortable sweaters and a few good books and a lost heart that he’d learn to search for and stitch up once he’d taken up knitting. He’d stare out that window with his cheek in his hand, he’d fall in love with himself the way he needed to learn how to do, and he’d make a few major life discoveries in himself.

Maybe he’d look for mermaids too. If mermaids really were real, they were lucky. They hid from humanity in beautiful underwater caves, able to sink to the bottom of the ocean when they wanted to disappear. Brendon would kill to have that kind of luxury. Maybe he couldn’t disappear, but at least he could fade away for a little while. Sometimes fading away was the only way he could let himself go completely. Besides, too much would be left behind. That was why he needed his lighthouse. He wouldn’t have many material items. Just the sea. He was really growing to love the sea.

When he was younger Brendon would sit at the bottom of swimming pools just to feel calm for a second. When there was too much noise and it wouldn’t stop, back when the world had him wrapped around its finger and he was trembling at its feet, Brendon would ride his bike up to this motel in a rundown town just outside of Vegas where there was always vacancy. Away from the neon lights and the buzz of the city, he could breathe in the quiet town in which he was never invited. He never went in or got caught, just jumped the fence and hopped into the empty pool late at night when everyone was asleep.

He would sit at the bottom and open his eyes to see the distant glow of the motel’s sign, he’d see the ripples of the water and the way it distorted everything above it, how the pool lights flickered dully around him like even they were too tired to do their job.

There was something so immensely peaceful and comforting about sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool. The way reality was a bit altered, letting yourself become engulfed in water and having nothing to think of except yourself. At the bottom of a swimming pool, the rest of the world faded away. Nobody else mattered. Your soul and your secrets were your own, and your own only. That was where the demons you kept bottled up drowned as they poured out of you in desperation.

The sudden and unexpected crunch of sand from somewhere behind him got his attention, and he turned to see a familiar figure walking toward him with caution. Brendon turned back around to face the lake; the shock that Dallon had actually found him was frozen in his bloodstream in the cold of the night, and he couldn’t find it in him to be surprised anymore. Life was too good at surprising him. He stopped reacting months ago.

With a grunt, Dallon took a seat beside him in the sand and raised his knees to his chest to rest his elbows on. Brendon looked down at his thighs and sighed, and Dallon said, “When so many are lonely as seem to be lonely, it would be inexcusably selfish to be lonely alone.” Brendon furrowed his eyebrows in perplexity but didn’t look up, and Dallon added, “Tennessee Williams. He’s a playwright. It’s a good quote, I think.”

Maybe he’d let one more person in on his secret.

“Funny name.” Brendon answered, and suddenly his heart was beating faster. The cold wind bit again. “How’d you know I was here?”

“Those weren’t your breadcrumbs?” Dallon’s inquiry made Brendon turn to look at him for the first time, and Dallon only smiled to indicate that it was a joke. Funny, really. “Because I know you.” His voice was quiet, and the cold on Brendon’s skin felt just a little warmer. When you care about someone, you get to know them a little better every day. They'd passed a lot of days. Today was one where Brendon needed something refreshing, something that would give him hope. Where he finally admitted to himself that he was a liar and he wasn’t fine. “What’s on your mind, Urie?”

“Oh, you know. The usual.” Brendon leaned back in the sand to look up at the stars. They hung above him lazily and with purpose, twinkling blue and white as the sky engulfed them hungrily. “I had this dream last night where I was in this weirdly eerie little town and everything was dim, and all I could see with was a lantern. It looked like something out of an eight-bit video game, you know? I was holding the lantern and I passed these weird ghost creatures with these pointed masks and it was like I was trying to find something in the dark but couldn’t. Psychoanalyze me.”

Dallon shifted in his spot, resting his elbows on his knees. The moonlight glistened on the water, and he watched it shimmer. “It sounds like you’re searching for something but you don’t know what it is. Try again tomorrow, young Aries, for better luck.”

Brendon half smiled up at the sky like it would give him his answers. What was he looking for? He’d spent his whole life... no. He couldn’t dwell anymore. He spent too long searching and not enough time finding. What was it worth anymore? Sifting through his demons, pushing skeletons on coat racks aside but instead finding a walk-in deeper than the ghosts would allow. They pulled him back, kept him confined. Tied up his inhibitions and kept them tethered a little too tightly.

Dallon sighed suddenly like it was taking all of his energy to sit there in front of the water with an indistinguishable desire to help. Could Brendon even be helped anymore? “Why are you here, Brendon?”

Brendon shook his head like he didn’t quite know himself. His bedroom had started to feel too small and stuffy and he had to get out before he suffocated. He felt so trapped sometimes. “I needed to breathe.”

Dallon glanced at him skeptically, gaze flickering from the glimmer of the moon reflecting across the center of the lake to the tired boy laying there in the sand, so small and infinitesimal compared to the rest of the nefarious world that had siphoned all of the energy out of his bones. “You came all this way just to breathe?”

“Mhm. Rode my bike. Forgot I had it, actually. Been a while.” Brendon ran his fingertips through the sand, the wind whistling through the trees. “I’m just... I’m exhausted, Dallon.”

Dallon's gaze lingered on his face, eyes following him pensively like he were this creature of the night that needed to be watched or he’d escape down alleyways and up fire escapes to get the hell out, but Brendon let his gaze stray anyway. “Exhausted how?”

“Like, I just... want everything to be done. Depression and self-hatred and thinking that none of this will ever be over. Feeling like I can’t breathe in my own home, my own room.” He let out a shuddering breath. “I feel suffocated. This fucking— God, this fucking world is suffocating me.”

“I wish I could tell you that it gets better but to be honest I really don’t know if it will.” Dallon sighed, directing his gaze upward to look at the moon. A waxing crescent, a pale white cutting sharply through the inky black sky, seemingly the only thing that couldn’t keep Brendon confined. But was he free yet? How could he find himself out in the clear? “The thing about being sick is that it’s tricky. Everyone tells you that it gets better, but sometimes it feels like it won’t. And I try to stay as positive as I can because sometimes that can help but sometimes it doesn’t. And I don’t know, Bren. Sometimes I think that this lasts forever too.”

Brendon turned to look at him, eyes unreadable. “Well, it’s true what they say about the best of us.”

Dallon let out a weak laugh, eyes following a distant blinking light in the sky wearily. “You know, it’s fucked up. That we kind of have to just sit by and wait. It’s a tricky, tricky thing, Brendon. Because one day you’re fine. And then the next day you’re wondering how long it is until... well, I’ll spare you the details of my highs and lows.” He sighed out unevenly, and Brendon guessed he really didn’t want to know. “But the thing is that you’ll go to bed not knowing how you’ll feel in the morning. And you’ll have a really, really bad day where you wish you could reach inside of you and pull the anxiety out or you’ll have a great day and then you’ll see something that will ruin your mood in a second and put you right back where you don’t wanna be.”

Brendon let his gaze fall. “It’s scary how out of control I feel sometimes.” He breathed out in a confession, feeling Dallon's presence beside him stronger now than he had. Like he meant more when Brendon could materialize him as a catalyst for remedy. A breath of fresh air on the first clear night in a while.

“I know.” He ran his hands up and down his legs. “I know, and that’s the one thing I never found out how to fix. That feeling of losing control. Because you think things are going one way but then everything... shifts. And then it’s three in the morning and maybe you’re okay but maybe you’re not. Maybe you’re having the best night’s sleep in weeks or maybe you’re making love or dancing by yourself or having a movie marathon with your friends. Or maybe you’re crying to yourself somewhere where no one can hear you and you’re exhausted but you can’t fall asleep. Maybe it’s this kind of exhaustion, I don’t know. And it’s powerful, in a way. It’s powerful but it’s heartbreaking and I wish I could find that silver lining for you. I wish I could find it for me. But I can’t. I’ve tried.”

“That’s okay.” He tried too.

Brendon glanced up to watch the blinking light. An airplane. Where were they going? If his calculations were right then the plane was heading north. Wyoming, Montana, Washington, maybe. Canada or San Francisco or somewhere else far from the little lake where Brendon sat that night, wondering why he was stuck running in circles when everyone else was on their way elsewhere. Dozens of people all going to the same place. Maybe everyone was always going to the same place. Maybe there was one common destination, and the point of life was to get there first. Or to get there at all.

“My mom used to say you have to parade through the ballrooms.” Dallon said just then, and Brendon glanced up to look at him. His cheeks were nacreous in the moonlight, the slope of his jaw sharp underneath the stars dancing above them. He looked so flawless, even when he had spilled his soul like he and Brendon had done so many times, disgustingly beautiful.

And Brendon found it sickening sometimes that he could let himself think that Dallon’s life and being was without flaw after everything. How he overlooked all the bad that had happened to him, idolized him, put him on a pedestal. Dallon’s life wasn’t flawless. He was just good at concealing. That is, until nights like this rolled around, and the only form of comfort to a broken soul was the cold, raw truth. The truth Dallon had tried so desperately to hide.

But things were different now. Brendon knew, and he idolized him anyway. Idolized him for his bravado, his effrontery, his resilience.

Things were different now.

“What?”

“Parade through the ballrooms.” He shrugged as if the metaphor were simple, but Brendon didn't understand. “There are gonna be times where you go through something you don’t wanna be going through. Where you’ll have to endure all these fake smiles and are you okay’s and... well, all the shit you’ve experienced these past few months. Take it in stride. Keep your head up. Get through it.”

Brendon turned straight ahead to watch the moonlight glisten on the lake once more. How Dallon always knew just what to say, he didn’t know, but there were nights when he needed to hold close everything he said to tuck behind his ear when all he could hear were voices telling him the opposite.

Months had gone by so slowly it seemed like centuries, and Brendon felt like he had been mummified. Brought back from the dead to live painfully in a world where things didn’t quite make sense anymore. He just wanted something to make sense. But Dallon had always been superluminal anyway.

Brendon was tired. He was tired, there was a hazy milky feeling in his bones, and suddenly all he really wanted was some rest. Slowly, he shifted toward Dallon with the sand soft underneath him and laid on his back, reaching out a trusting hand only for Dallon to slide his fingers into the spaces between Brendon’s.

Parade through the ballrooms. Get through it. Smile back at those fake smiles and give them nothing to sympathize. Tell them you’re okay when you’re not because saying it a million times will make you start to believe it. And maybe he would gain confidence that way too, if only he was good at make pretend. But he was going to do what he was told. He was going to try. He was going to parade through the ballrooms.

Dallon laid down in the sand beside Brendon, eyes on the sky but his body pressed close. When his back hit the sand and he made himself comfortable, Brendon moved in to rest his head against his chest, feeling a tightness in his throat somewhere where he meant to tell Dallon that he meant a lot to him. That his words held some essence of healing and that he really was good for the soul, but he couldn’t find the words to say, so they died behind his teeth.

“Seems so impossible sometimes.” He said instead.

“I know,” Dallon agreed.

Maybe he would move to a lighthouse. Maybe he would wear some cable knit sweaters and read a few good books and look longingly out that little window at the sea, where black tides rolled over each other and fizzled at the shore he once feared. But if he decided to disappear one day, then he knew he would take Dallon with him. Dallon and his affinity for creating something— well, he’d created something in Brendon. Built him up, made someone worth something. He didn’t know who he was without Dallon. He didn’t know if he wanted to know.

He was just tired.

And they laid there under the stars, bodies inseparable by their moonlit vows, souls entwined by silent covenant, and neither said a word.

* * *

Five forty-five a.m., and Brendon was blinking his eyes open to catch sight of the hazy, dull morning hanging over him in the cool air of the dawn. He could feel dry sand clinging to his back as he shifted his weight, and a hand was tucked half-heartedly in his own. He moved to sit up with confusion in his eyes, and only when he saw a sleeping Dallon did he realize.

“Hey, Dal. Wake up.” He reached out and pushed at his arm, waiting only for a moment before he awoke. His eyes met Brendon’s before he sat up. He didn’t say anything; he didn’t need to.

Six o’clock and Brendon was loading his bike into the trunk of Dallon’s car with the help of the tired boy beside him, dark circles under both of their eyes and the same shared thought. Dallon slammed the trunk shut and opened the passenger side door before he climbed into the driver’s seat and stuck the key in the ignition, wondering how the night had faded into morning without them even realizing.

“Morning,” Dallon said.

“Morning.” Brendon said.

Six fifteen and Brendon was tilting his head against the glass of the window to watch the slowly rising sun peek over the horizon. Exhaustion hung heavy in his bones and he counted it down. If he fell asleep now, he would get twenty minutes of sleep. Fifteen minutes. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five.

Six forty-five and Dallon was pulling into the empty bus stop in front of the diner, where the smooth stop of the car pulled Brendon into consciousness. He peeked up at the gleaming sun and squinted, pushing himself up straight. He and Dallon exchanged simple words only for them to hear, and they laced their fingers together transiently before Brendon climbed out of the car. Dallon promised to return his bike when they weren’t half asleep and Brendon made him promise to get home safe.

Six fifty and Brendon’s mother was taking one look at him and telling him to stay home for the day. He didn’t refute, only nodded, and slumped over in his seat at the table as he prodded at the syrup doused pancake on his plate. His siblings came and gone as he explained to his mother about how he spent the night out with Dallon, trying to remedy a feeling so deep in his chest that he couldn’t quite detect what it meant. In less wax poetic, though it could be interpreted however.

“You were nine.” Kara said suddenly, and Brendon turned to look at her half smile as she slid into the seat beside him. “When you tried to run away. You shoved all your little clothes in your little backpack and you left really early in the morning. And then on the way to school, we saw you walking down the street and mama had to pull over and make you get in the car. She asked where you were going, and d’you remember what you said?”

Brendon looked down at the table and let himself let out a half laugh. He was so little back then. So naive. He’d like to think that he was a bit less naive now, but sometimes he wasn’t so sure. “School, cause that’s the only place I know how to get to.”

“Right.” She laughed quietly and placed a hand on his knee. “You were mad that you weren’t getting enough attention so you ran away from home. You didn’t even have any money. Just a bunch of clothes and a box of cereal shoved into your bag.”

At that Brendon laughed, and she grinned down at him as he rested his head in his arms tiredly. “Yeah. Cause you all had so much stuff going on and I was just there. I was tired of being the baby cause Matt and Mason always teased me and mama and daddy seemed like they were tired of me being scared all the time and I felt like no one would care if I were gone.” Sometimes he still felt that way, the thought crossed his mind as he shifted in his seat. “I didn’t wanna be gone forever. I just... needed a break.”

She tilted her head solemnly at him like he’d accidentally spoken with meaning. He found himself doing that less and less lately. “What, then or now?”

And maybe it did mean something. Maybe it all meant something. Maybe the lighthouse was just a pipe dream and he never really intended on embracing it full-fledged. It was just a dream. All just a dream. Tilting his head against his bicep, he decided, “Both.”

She smiled a little like she knew something he didn’t and reached out to scratch at the back of his head carefully. “You okay, kiddo?” She asked, her voice soft enough to set him at ease. It had been a long night, but Brendon was still tired.

“Mmm. Just seeking comfort in the tried and true.” He let his eyes fall shut.

“I worry about you, sometimes.” She spoke the truth in a whisper, but he could understand. Sometimes it was hard to say. Sometimes it was hard to respond to as well, because he was left without words. He just opened his eyes again to suddenly be left in the kitchen of his home and not at the lake where he had fallen asleep beside a boy he shared too much with, but somehow not enough. What was home, anyway? Walls and plaster, insulation and wood floors and plenty of furniture. The laughs and smiles and people who made it up. And then there was Dallon.

“Thank you,” Brendon whispered, because sometimes that had to be enough.

“Mhm.” She hummed as her hand slid up to his shoulder and down to his side. As he felt himself slipping into that blissful state of unconsciousness again, she pulled him close and out of his seat, and then he was in her arms. He made a noise of protest, he was fine where he was, but she lifted her little brother just like she did when he was young and suddenly, regression seemed like a perfectly fine bandaid.

He could barely comprehend the way she laid him down as his body met his mattress, and her lips met his forehead in a maternal gesture as he curled up against his blankets. Regression was just fine. So was leaving home in the middle of the night to get some fresh air when he was feeling suffocated. So was contemplating his place while the one next to him was being filled by someone who held such gravity. So was fleeing impulsively with nothing but a box of sugary cereal and some clothes because the world just gets to be a little too much sometimes.

Kara shut the door behind her. Regression was just fine.


	49. Chapter 48: A Different Kind of Sickness

Brendon walked with quick steps down the hallway as he found who he was looking for, having been thinking about it all weekend. Nonstop, actually. He needed to know. He needed to ask. Needed to stop pretending that he understood everything because that was getting him nowhere.

Ryan was slipping his jacket into his locker when Brendon found him. He looked up and nodded his head in a hello, not surprised to see him, and Brendon was nervous again. Knew he shouldn’t be asking, but it was eating away at him.

“What’s up, Bren?” Ryan asked casually, not quite catching his obvious nerves.

“We don’t have a problem, do we?” He asked in lieu of a greeting, standing his ground though his hands were trembling.

Ryan raised an eyebrow and reached into his bag to put a textbook away. “Meaning...?”

“You. Dallon.” He said stoically, though his throat burned with tears, and Ryan crossed his arms as he stared back at him in disbelief.

“You’re not accusing me, are you?” He asked, as if deliberately trying to make Brendon feel guilty. He was. Brendon knew he shouldn’t be overthinking this.

“No.” He took it back, looked down in shame, tugged awkwardly on the strap of his bag. “No. Sorry. That sounded threatening.”

“Yeah, it did, Brendon.” He said with conviction, and Brendon felt stupid again for even asking. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. No. I don’t know. Just.” He sighed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and suddenly realizing that this was a bad idea. If Dallon was going to cheat on him he would be smart enough to do it with someone who wouldn’t tell Brendon. Someone who didn’t respect him. “Dallon told me that he tried to kiss you and I can’t stop thinking about it.” He admitted, but felt idiotic for saying it out loud.

“Fuck.” Ryan closed his locker and leaned against it, observing Brendon’s nervous stance and the way he begged for an answer. “Look, Bren. I’m gonna tell you what I told him. He’s trying to ruin the one good thing he has because he’s convinced he deserves it. Dallon has this way of thinking that bad things always find him. That his precious God is out to get him. And maybe He is, I don’t know, but I do know that Dallon will do anything to hurt himself. He has to beat everything and everybody to the punch. If that means cheating on his boyfriend to spare himself the heartache, in some fucked up way, then he’s gonna do it.”

Heat filled his chest suddenly and made him feel like he was going to explode. “Cheating... did he actually—“

“No. I didn’t let him. I haven’t let him since I was fifteen, Brendon, alright? Whatever Dallon and I were ceased to exist before you were in his life. And look, I love Dallon. He’s the most important person in my life. He’s my best friend. But he isn’t a person I feel like I belong with romantically. If I did, I would have been sure about him years ago. You don’t have to worry. At least not with me. I have no bad intentions. I don’t think Dallon does either.”

“I know. I didn’t think you did. I’m just-“

“Defensive. I get it. Anybody would be. Especially in this situation. I know what it looks like, Brendon. Dallon comes to me with his problems when he can’t go to you. Similar to how you go to your best friend, right?” Wordlessly, Brendon nodded. “Right. Look, not everyone’s relationships with their friends is simple. Nothing about Dallon Weekes is simple. You accommodate, because that’s better than not knowing him at all.” He pulled away from his locker, and Brendon’s eyes followed him every step. “Trust me. I know what it looks like. Dallon and I are close. Too close for comfort, sometimes. But I’m not a homewrecker and Dallon isn’t a cheater. We’re just friends. Sometimes it gets a little unclear, but you have my word, Brendon. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Brendon nodded, unsure, but he was right, Dallon wouldn’t really cheat on him. He couldn’t. “Okay.”

“And besides, he said he loves you even though you give bad head. That’s true love.” He pat Brendon’s shoulder and Brendon stared at him, mortified, as he started down the hall. Ryan smiled over his shoulder, and Brendon laughed, a nervous laugh, a what the hell did I just do kind of laugh, before he turned to head to class, shaking his head at himself.

“I am such an asshole.” He huffed under his breath, speed walking to his classroom.

* * *

Ryan looked up when his bedroom door swung open and only smiled when Dallon nodded his head at him, not bothering to knock because Ryan swore he didn’t know how. “Hi.” He greeted as he closed Ryan’s door behind him.

“Hey. You know, if you were just gonna barge in here, why didn’t you just come home with me after school?”

“My mom wanted me to help her with something at the store. I’m starving, though. I wanted to see if you wanted food.” He plopped down on his bed without an invitation. Ryan’s eyebrows went up in surprise, Dallon guessed that really was out of character, as he turned in his chair to observe him. “What? Don’t look so shocked. Just appreciate that I want to eat and come out with me.”

He huffed out in annoyance and folded his arms, as if guarding his beloved computer. “I was filling out scholarships, Dal, where’s Brendon?”

“He’s working today. Come on. I can help you. I’m starving.” He begged, sticking out his bottom lip adorably for good measure.

“I have no money. Hence the scholarships.”

“I’ll pay for it! Ryan!”

He rolled his eyes and went to save his essay. He didn’t like saying no to Dallon. Dallon used that to his advantage. “Okay, okay. We order it here, though. I don’t really want to go out. Go nuts.”

“Yes!” He stretched out on Ryan’s bed like a starfish and reached out for his laptop. Ryan raised his eyebrows questioningly but gave it to him, and Dallon sat up on his elbows as he searched for his favorite takeout place. “How was your day?”

“Okay. Ah.” He stretched his legs out, touched the edge of his mattress with socked feet. “Actually, Brendon kind of... accused me today. Or not accused me. Not really. Just... insinuated.”

Dallon looked up at him, half frowning now, and paused the motion of his hand. “What did he insinuate?”

Ryan hesitated. “That he has something to worry about. With, y’know. Us.” He gestured between them as if Dallon wouldn’t get it. “I think he’s insecure about us being close. Or at least, knowing where we stand.”

“It’s not like I’m trying to get in your bed anymore. Not in that way, at least.” He gestured to the bed he was laying on and Ryan half smiled, shaking his head. “He doesn’t have anything to worry about. You told him that?”

“Yeah, I told him that.”

“Good. Thank you. I’ll talk to him when I see him tomorrow.” He pushed Ryan’s laptop shut with a sigh after he placed their order. “He’s been so insecure lately. I don’t know how to tell him that he’s the most important thing in the world to me.” He rubbed his temple like the thought of it gave him a headache. “I’m stupid in love with him, Ryan. I just don’t know how to get that across.”

“I think you do it pretty well.” Ryan offered, having been in the middle of them for a few weeks now. Hearing both sides of the story, though he tried not to let them know.

“I don’t know if he gets the message.” Dallon said anyway as he shook his head. They were so bad at communication. That was the problem.

“He’s been worried about you too, you know.” Ryan added after a second of silence, and at that Dallon looked up again. “About your health. Eating and stuff.”

“Oh my god.” He sighed dramatically and covered his face with his hand. Brendon. He cared too much about Dallon. He didn’t even realize it was a lost cause. “Ryan. I’m eating. I’m fine. You know that, right?”

“I mean...” Ryan squirmed uncomfortably, feeling confronted, and Dallon threw his hands up in exasperation, disbelieving. “I’m sorry! But you do say some questionable things sometimes. He has the right to be worried. Just talk to him. Make sure he knows what’s going on with you. You two need to talk more. Even about the shit you don’t want to talk about.”

Dallon slid to sit up, frowning uneasily at the prospect of the two of them talking about him. Like they were conspiring, almost. Figuring him out. Ryan knew more about how Brendon felt than Dallon did. “It’s not that easy.”

Ryan shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve had a lot of conversations about things I didn’t want to talk about. I do it just fine.”

“Yeah, well. Not everyone is a superhero like you.” He rolled his eyes, but Ryan half smiled at what he took as a compliment. “Besides, I’m eating. I’m eating fine. I’ve been healthy.” He insisted, trying a little too hard, like maybe he were trying to convince himself. That was what Ryan was afraid of.

He nodded, though, knew not to meddle when Dallon got defensive. “Okay.”

“You sound doubtful.” He accused, raising an eyebrow daringly. Picking a fight because that was what he and Ryan were good at.

“That’s cause I know you, Dal.” Ryan said, arms crossed, gaze on his lap so he didn’t have to meet Dallon’s eyes. They gave him away too easily. Ryan wanted to make it a fair fight, for his sake.

“I just ordered a feast, Ryan!” He laughed defensively, catching the conviction in his tone. “I’m fine!”

“Okay.” Ryan repeated, but he didn’t sound like he meant it, just sounded patronizing, or passive, maybe.

“Stop okaying me!” Dallon demanded in a whine, coming off as childish though it was just him being defensive. He didn’t like when people tried to get behind him. Under his skin. Brendon Urie had already managed to do that pretty damn well. He didn’t need Ryan to do it too.

“What do you want me to say, Dallon? You’re my best friend and I care about your wellbeing. That’s it. That’s all. I’m not trying to accuse you of anything. I just care about you.”

“I care about you too,” Dallon pouted. He felt like a dick, like a bad friend, he had his walls up and got scared when anybody tried to figure it out. He didn’t know what to do with confrontation. It was a scary thing. “I’m sorry.”

“S’alright. I just...” He shrugged, lost track, or didn’t even really know what he wanted to say. Instead he got up, watching Dallon watch him, and sat down beside him on his bed. “I’m here for you.”

“I know you are.” Dallon let Ryan envelope him in a hug, this certain kind of hug where he put his whole body into it. “Thank you for caring.”

“Mhm.” He squeezed him tight, had learned a while ago to appreciate Dallon’s hugs. He didn’t know when was going to be the last time he’d hug him.

Dallon pulled away so Ryan let him, he always let him, but he missed him instantly. It scared him sometimes, how distant Dallon was, how he could feel him on his bad days. It scared him that he wondered when enough was going to end up being enough. He just hoped it never got to that. Or didn’t get to it again, at least.

“You know I’m okay, right?” Dallon asked gently, looking up into hazel eyes that asked questions Dallon wouldn’t answer. It wasn’t his place. Ryan knew that. Nevertheless he nodded, his bangs falling in his eyes, and whether he believed it or not, neither of them mentioned it.

“Yeah.” Ryan assured him, but the hesitance was all there. “Yeah. I know you’re okay.”

* * *

Brendon stared down at the stupid orange bottle in hand, taken from where he’d left it on his side table. He tried to stay consistent, take them every day, but then again Brendon had never been good at consistency. He didn’t know who he was fooling.

“What if these are a placebo too?” Brendon asked suddenly, and the shake of the bottle in his hand reminded him of his own inability to suppress human emotions like every other person in the world. Dallon looked up, thumbing the edge of his book, and Brendon twisted the cap open, pouring them all into the palm of his hand like a warning. “What if the reason I don’t feel different is because they’re not really real?”

“That’s hardly the case.”

“Yeah?” Brendon twisted to look at him, a handful of pills and no reason not to swallow them all. “Because I’ve been wracking my brain trying to think of why they’re making me feel worse, and not better. And I think it’s because I don’t believe they’re gonna do anything. It’s the placebo effect.” Dallon tilted his head, making a noise of disapproval. “No, hear me out. What if everything is dictated primarily by our thoughts? What if, like, when we think really hard about the consequences of our actions, they come true? Like if the reason we feel pain is because we expect it, like selective sensation, in a way. You feel what you wanna feel. That’s the placebo effect. What if the placebo effect can be attributed to universality?”

Dallon sighed, snapping his book shut and tossing it to the side. “Baby, c’mere. Put those back.” With reluctance Brendon dropped the palmful of capsules back into their bright orange prison and twisted the cap. Leaving them on his side table he climbed onto Dallon’s lap, taking a seat on his thighs, and Dallon’s hands touched his waist over his sweater. “Are you okay?” He asked and Brendon nodded, slightly affronted. “Are you sure? Because I can’t have you hurting yourself, Urie, I kinda like you.”

“I’m fine. Just thinking.” Brendon played with the tips of his hair absentmindedly. “You talk a lot about placebos. How we try to do things to help and they don’t. I’ve been taking these pills for months, Dal. Months, and I don’t think they’re working. So what if these are a placebo? If I took them all would it matter?”

“Placebo or not, Brendon, too much of anything will kill you.” He whispered, brushing a thumb across Brendon’s pulse point gently. Brendon didn’t think so. “Don’t put yourself in danger because you’re looking for answers. From my experience, it won’t get you any.”

Brendon nodded, still feeling the weight of his pills in his hand as he stared back at his boyfriend. It wasn’t just that he wanted answers. He wanted real ones. Not fake answers. Not something made up or assumed or insinuated. He wanted to know the what’s and the why’s and the how’s. He didn’t want placebo answers anymore. He wanted ones that would fix something.

“Is everything okay?” Dallon asked just then, but forgetting the part where he feigned indifference. Brendon could hear his worry. Could feel it. Dallon wasn’t so good at masking it.

“Just thinking about my place here, is all.” He assured him. Nothing else to it.

“Hm.” Dallon hummed like he were observing, brushing Brendon’s hair gently behind his ear. “Listen. I know how it feels. Pouring them all in your hand. It feels so easy. Just don’t. It doesn’t really solve anything. It just gets you hospital bills and guilt.”

“I’ll take it from you.” Brendon decided, because neither of those sounded like a good consequence. Being dead, though. That one was appealing. The only problem was that Brendon didn’t know how to admit that that was what the ultimate end goal would be.

He shook that thought off quick, never let them stay too long, and instead busied himself in making Dallon kiss him. Dallon complied, but he knew he was a distraction. Brendon used a lot of things as distractions these days.

“Okay.” He pulled away suddenly after a minute and climbed off of Dallon’s lap, leaving him half smiling and confused. “My shift starts soon. I gotta go downstairs. You wanna come with? You can eat on the house.” He offered as he tried to fix his hair.

“Oh, no, thanks. I’m not hungry. I have homework to finish and I should probably get home to my mother before she calls in a missing person’s report. Between you and Ryan’s, I’ve barely been home in forever.”

Brendon looked over at him briefly before he focused on changing into jeans. He knew they were best friends. He appreciated their friendship, too. It was just that hearing about Dallon’s almost mistake over their break, the fact that they even took a break at all, he felt like he should be cautious. It was just his anxiety getting the better of him again.

“She probably misses you.” He said absently, though he wasn’t paying attention as he buttoned his jeans and went to grab a nicer shirt.

“I think she likes when I’m not around.” He figured, but Brendon was suddenly distracted and only nodded, not really listening. Dallon got up from his bed, making sure to grab his bag, and added, “I’m gonna get going. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. I have stuff to do first before my shift so...”

“I’ll walk myself out.” He waved it off, and then bent down to kiss Brendon’s cheek. “Bye.”

“Bye.” Brendon watched him leave, waited until he heard the creak of the bottom step, and immediately his eyes wandered to that bottle. That magic little bottle, with all the opportunity.

He slid by it with a murderous glare like it had asked him itself to down them, but for some reason, for the rest of the night, it was all he could think about.

* * *

Brendon stared at himself in the mirror on his closet door, twisting and turning to look at his bare chest and being too judgmental, as he always was. He placed a hand on his stomach and then his hips, trying to gauge if he looked different than the last time he’d checked. Maybe looking different wouldn’t be such a bad thing. The same old thing could get boring sometimes.

“Should I get my nipples pierced?”

Dallon looked up from his phone, eyebrows furrowed as Brendon looked over his shoulder at him. “God, no. Why? That would not be a good look for you.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighed, turning to look at him with depletion in his eyes. “I don’t know. I need a change. Like, a big change. I’m sick of being me.”

He made a noise of acknowledgment, and Brendon tugged his leggings up to cover his stomach. “I had that phase. I could pierce your nose for you if you want, but I can’t promise it won’t get infected or look horrible on you. And besides, your mother would not be okay with that. And changing something about your appearance won’t change who you are or how you’re feeling. C’mere.” Dallon extended his arm and Brendon went to go straddle his lap, frowning petulantly as he settled down on his thighs. “I feel like you need a hug.”

“I feel like you’re right.” Brendon agreed, and wrapped his arms around him tightly when Dallon went to envelop him. He pressed his nose against Dallon’s shoulder, staring despondently at the wall behind him. Dallon was his. He was his, so why did he feel so insecure? “Do you still love me?” He peeped suddenly, against his better judgment. At that Dallon pulled away, his eyebrows going up in surprise.

“Of course I still love you, Brendon. Is that what you’re worried about?” He asked disbelievingly, and Brendon didn’t have to answer for Dallon to get it. He shied away and Dallon sighed, rubbing his upper arms, shaking his head, trying to convince him that that wasn’t what was going on. “Bren. Brendon, I’m not gonna leave you for anything or anybody, okay? I’m not. And piercing your nipples or any other body part isn’t going to make me any more or less attracted to you.”

“I’m just scared that things are different now that you know he likes boys.” Brendon admitted as he blinked back tears. He wasn’t going to cry. Not over something this stupid. Dallon was his. Dallon was his. “That you resent me for being here when you finally have a chance with him, or something. I can’t compete with history. No matter how hard I try.”

“Hey. I don’t resent you. I don’t want you to ever think I resent you. Not for this, not for anything else. Ryan and I are complicated, Bren, okay? We have a complicated relationship.” He brushed Brendon’s hair back and Brendon sniffled, watching his face carefully. He wanted to believe him. It was just that Ryan was Ryan, and that had always been enough for Dallon. “I’m not at that place in my relationship with him where I want to be with him romantically, okay? Not anymore. Not after everything. I know how he feels about me; we tried it, it never worked, I moved on. With you.” He poked his shoulder and Brendon tilted his head down, staring at the spot his finger had touched and resting his cheek against the back of Dallon’s hand. “Look. Sometimes I try to mess things up when they’re good because I get scared. Try to convince myself that I don’t deserve it. So if I cheated on you with him... it’d kill two birds with one stone, y’know? Ruin our relationship and my friendship with him.”

“Dallon.” Brendon hugged him again with a sigh and Dallon took in a deep breath. “Please. Don’t do this. Don’t ruin us.”

“I don’t want to. I just thought—“ He stopped, a hand firm on the back of Brendon’s head, and Brendon pulled away, holding his cheek in his hand gently. “I thought taking a break was just you getting ready to break up with me so I wanted to protect myself.”

Brendon shook his head, sniffling, and swiped his thumb under Dallon’s eye though he wasn’t crying. Quietly, he said, “If you ever cheat on me, I’ll cut your dick off. And then I’ll hook up with Ryan in front of you for revenge.”

“Okay.” Dallon laughed, making Brendon smile, and pulled him back into a hug because one was never enough with them. “Okay. Note taken.”

“Seriously, Dal, you don’t have to worry. If I’m thinking of breaking up with you— which I’m not, by the way— I’ll talk to you about it. Even if it’s hard, even if it’s awkward, I’ll talk to you, and we can have a conversation about it. I’m sick of being childish and dancing around each other. We promised to talk things out more. So enough with the self-sabotaging. Let’s just take care of each other. Be good to each other. Deal?”

“Yeah. Deal.” He shook Brendon’s hand and they both smiled, willing to keep that promise. Talking. How hard could talking be?

Dallon didn’t know how to talk. He knew how to hide. The two were polar opposites, in which one could save your life and one could get you killed.

“Sorry for acting so crazy.” Brendon apologized, his gaze falling down between them instead of on his eyes. “I’ve been so insecure lately. About what I look like, and stuff.”

Dallon frowned a little bit, his hand grazing his side. “I get it. Some times are worse than others. I know how you feel.”

Brendon blinked up at him hopefully, his innocence feigned. “You do?”

“You know that I do, Bren.” He brushed his cheek gently, clearly confused, though he had to know that Brendon had been skeptical. He wasn’t good at hiding it. “What’s this about?”

He shook his head, suddenly confronted. “Nothing, I—“

“Brendon.” He urged, and Brendon guessed they did promise that they would be more open with each other. He had just planned on being passive about it until Dallon told him himself. He didn't mean to confront him. He was just worried. “Really. What’s on your mind?”

“I just...” He sighed, looking away from his eyes again. “I was thinking about what you said to me last summer about your issues with your body. And now I kind of understand. Not feeling like you belong in it. But you— you feel that way because you don’t think you’re who you’re supposed to be. Like, you don’t look the way you’re supposed to, right? Like. There’s a reason. Something I should know?”

“Bren, are you asking me if I have an eating disorder?” He asked blatantly. Brendon looked up at him, he didn’t think Dallon would be so up front about it, and the silence he was returned with was enough. Brendon bristled, and Dallon added, “Listen. I don’t want this to be an issue. I don’t want you to think that because I have certain things wrong with me, everything bad in me can be attributed to a mental illness.”

“Okay." He said, but he didn't seem convinced. "It’s just that sometimes the things you say, and... I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m just...”

“Okay. Listen.” Dallon sighed, sliding his hands up and down Brendon’s arms carefully. Brendon did, he listened, because he knew, he needed to hear it. He suspected that Dallon needed to say it, too. “I... I used to. Or I guess I do. I don’t know if it ever goes away.”

Brendon swallowed thickly, sitting back on his lap. He wasn’t expecting it to be a yes. He wasn’t expecting him to admit it. He thought it was just all in his head. Or had convinced himself so, anyway.

“I was never diagnosed with it.” He continued reluctantly. “I never told my doctors. I just had a really irregular weight and they told me that it was probably my depression. Which it was, at first. I’d be so anxious that I couldn’t eat and then I just kind of... got used to that. And then... I don’t know. It became normal. I didn’t really ever label it. I didn’t try. Sometimes I’d... y’know. Make myself throw up. It was more out of feeling sick or anxious than anything else, but I did it. And I felt guilty about it and hid it from everyone but... yeah. I did it. And then freshman year, when Ryan and I... ended whatever we were. I thought it was me. And it’s not his fault or anything, this is why I never told him, but I was insecure and uncomfortable with who I was. I still am. I’m adverse to everything about me. But I haven’t been bad for a really long time. I haven’t starved myself or anything. What I told you last summer was true: my anxiety is a big part of it. Sometimes I eat too much and sometimes I don’t eat enough. I just have a lot of issues with food and I try not to, and I think I’ve gotten much better at coping with it. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just don’t want you to freak out about certain parts of me, okay? I’m alright. And I promise that if there’s a problem, I’m getting help for it.”

“Okay.” Brendon nodded, but enveloped him in a hug nonetheless. He didn’t expect this. Honesty. That was hard for Dallon sometimes. “I love you.”

“I know. Hey.” He pulled away to kiss him gently, brushing Brendon’s hair behind his ear. “I’m okay, Urie. I promise.”

“Pinky promise?”

He linked his pinky with Brendon’s and shook it with finality. “Pinky promise.”

“Okay.” Brendon kissed him again, soft, like he were trying to get it in his head, that he loved him. Loved every piece of him even though he didn’t think he was worth it. Dallon exhaled slowly when Brendon pulled away, a sigh of relief, maybe. Deep from his stomach like he had been holding that consternation for months. “So.” Brendon flopped over onto the bed beside him, more satisfied now that he had gotten it off his chest. “You said Ryan doesn’t know?” He added as a second thought, though he knew the answer because Ryan had told him.

He shifted to lay on his side and propped himself up by his elbow. “No. Josh does, though. I want to tell Ryan eventually. I’m just weird about it. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. He always blames himself when it comes to me.”

Brendon poked at his arm with a frown. “You both are pretty good at that.”

“Yeah, we are.” Dallon stretched out and poked him back as Brendon peeked up at him, lying flat on his back now. “So, let’s talk about you, then.” He changed the subject, uncomfortable talking about himself for too long. “You said you’re feeling insecure. You’re not going through this too, are you? Because if you are...”

“No, no. I’m okay. I’m just self-conscious. My body makes me uncomfortable ever since...” He paused, but he didn’t have to say it. Dallon only swallowed, nodded, didn’t push it further. “Yeah. It’s fine. Just between that and going to the doctor’s so often and then what’s going on with Ryan, I feel out of place.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about him. You’ve got me, babe. I’m not going anywhere.” He promised, he always promised, and Brendon knew he could believe him but it was scary sometimes, believing someone. Believing in someone when they said they were good. “I see where you’re coming from, though. That insecurity. And I know it’s a really complicated situation but I don’t want you to think of that— that one stupid mistake as how I feel. I was drunk. I was trying to hurt myself. You know I would do anything to prove to you that I love you.”

“I know.” He agreed, and like it were innate Dallon laid his arm across Brendon’s chest, settling down beside him. “I know. And I’m not mad at you. Or him. I understand. It’s just... sometimes I get in my head. Sometimes it feels like nothing makes sense. Especially us, you know? Cause we fight and don’t talk about all the stuff we should talk about. Cause we’re both difficult. And that might— it might be a good thing, because that means we’re together despite that, but it can also be really scary too. So I don’t know if I’m psyching myself out thinking that things with us are okay or if they really are okay.”

“They are okay.” Dallon promised. “And we’ve been doing better at talking things out. So let’s just keep talking about things and see where it takes us.”

“Yeah. Good idea.” He wrapped an arm around him, buried his nose in his hair. Sighed with this odd sense of clarity and held the back of Dallon’s head as if cradling him. “I’m really glad you told me.” He added in a whisper, and Dallon tilted his head gently against him. “It means a lot that you trust me enough to let me in.”

“It means a lot that you don’t judge me.” Dallon returned. Brendon would never judge him. He knew that. Or maybe he didn’t, and it was just this irrational fear, but it made sense, the fear in which caused distrust. Brendon had to prove he was trustworthy first. Like an initiation.

“You don’t judge me either. S’why we work so well.” He figured. Dallon nodded, he supposed that was true, and they laid there quietly, their bodies pressed close. Dallon bumped his nose against Brendon's arm, getting him to adjust it until he was comfortable. And Brendon did, shifting to accommodate, and only when Dallon settled down did Brendon whisper a soft, “I love you.” Dallon made a noise of acknowledgment, meant that he loved him too though words didn’t matter sometimes. After a year Brendon figured that one out.

Brendon liked to cling to things in his sleep. Pillows, his favorite blanket, Dallon, when he was there. But when he had nightmares he tended to pull away and isolate himself on one side of the bed.

It was fuzzy, like he was struggling to grasp the concept of what was going on. But the hands on his body had felt so real, the fingers digging into his skin, the bruises they left behind as he cried out to someone who couldn’t hear him. He was alone, in that moment, he was completely alone, he was lost and misguided, he was... who was he? Just a victim. Another statistic that got no justice. A name he vowed to never speak again. A body being violated and abused and tainted and-

Brendon woke with a start, and before he could register where he was he doubled over and emptied his guts over the side of the bed. His throat burned with the taste, and his head spun as he reached up to cover his lips with his fingers in disbelief. The comatose body beside him jolted, and Brendon couldn’t look behind him. He knew he was there, anyway. No use in feeling ashamed this late at night. Or early in the morning, depending on how he chose to look at it.

“Brendon.” Dallon reached out to touch his back. Brendon flinched out of instinct but quickly relaxed, letting his head fall against the mattress. “Bren, what happened?”

Brendon made a disgruntled noise and tried to swallow as Dallon slowly began to peel the covers off of him. Brendon let his eyes fall down to the floor before he sat up and realized that oh, shit. He had actually done that. He was disoriented, hazy. “I, um. I had a nightmare, and...” He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t finish. He just shook his head and let his eyes fall, too embarrassed to meet Dallon’s.

“Shit, are you okay? I mean, physically?” He asked as Brendon climbed out of bed, where nightmares happened and he didn’t feel safe. He shrugged half-heartedly, and Dallon frowned. He stood on the opposite side of the bed now, watching Brendon’s eyes flicker back and forth between his mess and his feet, where a year ago he had the world. Well, now he was at the world’s feet. No, he wasn’t okay.

Brendon’s head was reeling as he stood there and tried to process what he had done. Dallon stared at him from the opposite side of the bed, not disgusted but worried, and Brendon didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t blurt out why, he couldn’t just... he shook his head, trying to clear the fog just enough to think for a second. He had to clean it up. He needed comfort. He needed his mother. A maternal figure.

He shifted his weight. “I’m. Um. I’m gonna... get my mom. Will you...” He swallowed thickly, blinking back tears. “Will you go downstairs, please? I’ll be there...” He trailed off, looking down at the tainted floor.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Dallon shifted in his spot for a second before he circled the bed and tried to smile reassuringly, make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was, and Brendon wasn’t going to mask that with anything. He couldn’t even smile back, only stared with apologetic eyes until Dallon had disappeared from the room.

As Dallon padded down the stairs Brendon escaped to his parents’ room in tears. He shook his mother awake, whispered to her what he’d done, only apologized when she got up to check his temperature. He wasn’t sick, though he knew, it was the nightmare, the unfamiliar hands, the memory.

“I’ll clean it up.” He cried, but she told him to rest, that she would handle it.

When Brendon stepped into the living room Dallon was sitting on the couch in the dark with nothing but the moonlight highlighting his distress. His arms were folded over his chest, feet planted firmly on the floor as he leaned back against the cushion of the couch. Brendon didn’t know how to apologize so he didn’t. Instead he crossed the wood floor in his bare feet and went to sit beside Dallon, who shifted to accommodate to him.

Without hesitance Brendon leaned into his body and Dallon wrapped an arm around him, pressing their sides together, emanating comfortable warmth as Brendon shivered. He shook his head slowly as if trying to process it. What happened, the dichotomy between reality and his nightmares because they weren’t so different. Dallon didn’t push, just remained quiet with Brendon tucked under his arm. His voice felt lost. Stolen.

“I had a dream where he, um.” He swallowed, feeling the acidic taste of vomit in his throat. He should have washed his mouth out. “He raped me.” The words didn’t taste foreign, and that scared him. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like every time I let myself think my mind goes there. It’s so fucked up, Dallon. I’m so fucked up. And it’s so scary that that’s— that’s my new default. Thinking about him.”

He whispered the words in hesitance, the hurt in his fragile veins so clear. Dallon turned to look at him, eyes too big, too scared, and he couldn’t find anything to say. He just stared at him, horrified, and tears filled Brendon’s eyes like it had finally caught up to him. His head was pounding. He was so tired.

He turned to bury his head in Dallon’s shoulder and Dallon pressed his lips against his temple, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to stare into the dark. He didn’t know what to do. Neither of them knew what to do anymore.

His thoughts were haunted. He didn’t want to identify the ghost responsible.

“Do you think it’s because of what we talked about? Having sex again?” He asked carefully, afraid of saying the wrong thing.

Brendon shook his head, bumped his nose against Dallon’s chin, sniffled when he nuzzled into his chest. Dallon rested his chin against Brendon’s sweaty mess of hair and frowned, staring unseeingly across the living room as he wondered why things went so wrong so fast. “I want to try again. I want the feeling of you back. I don’t want to feel him every time I close my eyes.” He tightened his grip on Dallon’s shirt and whispered, “God, Dal, I feel him every time I close my eyes.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Dallon pulled him closer and pressed his lips to his forehead. He didn’t know what to say. What the hell could he say? “I’m so sorry.”

He took in a shuddering breath. “I used to have these... these nightmares. A lot. Like, every night. And it felt like I was paralyzed, you know? Like it was real.” He curled up and rested his legs against Dallon’s. “I’ve had them since I was a kid, I talked about them in therapy and stuff. It was scary. I guess now it’s just... I have a reason to dream them.”

“I wish you didn’t.” Dallon bit back tears and tucked a lock of hair behind Brendon’s ear languidly.

“Me neither.” Brendon whispered, but that was all he could say. Wishing wasn’t gonna make anything different. He’d tried all that before. “Can I try to sleep again?”

Dallon looked at him, face pained in the moonlight, and he would make a joke about Brendon not throwing up on him, or he would suggest they go back up to bed, or that he could sleep with his parents or even Kara, if he needed to. But nothing felt right, and so he just nodded, and Brendon didn’t smile. He just let himself lay down gently, knees to his chest, bare feet cold as he lay his head in Dallon’s lap. Dallon placed a gentle hand on the side of his head and carded his fingers through his hair.

“Sweet dreams, Urie.” He whispered under his breath, and Brendon reached up blindly, placing a hand on Dallon’s thigh only for Dallon to tangle their fingers together. Inextricable, safe.

Dallon didn’t fall asleep that night.

* * *

Brendon woke up on the couch, covered by a blanket and curled up like a kitten until he stretched out and inhaled the smell of coffee from the kitchen. He hadn’t dreamt after that, or at least if he did he didn’t remember it. He sat up, groaning in another stretch, he should have gone back to his bed last night, and went to find his boyfriend sitting alone at the kitchen table, staring down into his coffee like it had all the answers he didn’t.

“Morning, sunshine.” Brendon greeted, lingering in the doorway until he caught his attention. Dallon forced a smile, and Brendon slid into a seat beside him.

“Are you feeling better?” Dallon asked quietly as he tapped his fingers against his mug. Brendon nodded, cheek in hand and eyes aimlessly watching the liquid within the mug, where steam swirled up and greeted the cool air. Dallon must had covered him with a blanket last night. Brendon must had kept him warm.

“It was a dream. It wasn’t real. I’m not gonna let it set me back four months.” And he couldn’t. Every step was one toward recovery, that was something Ms. Kenny had said in passing once, but it stuck with him. He kept taking steps, some were backwards, but even if it was counterproductive at least he wasn’t standing still in the same place.

Dallon nodded like he were proud, and maybe that wasn’t the right emotion for Brendon but deep down, he knew that Dallon could understand. He’d been in such a place before, and fuck if he wasn’t proud. “You’re strong.”

“That’s not a word I would use to describe me.” Brendon disagreed quietly, but Dallon simply reached out to slide his fingers into Brendon’s. And they exchanged smiles, Dallon was far too beautiful to not smile back at, and he leaned forward wordlessly just to press his lips soft enough to Brendon’s that he barely felt it.

Dallon sat back with a rosy smile and said, “I really think you should go brush your teeth.” Brendon laughed, setting a hand over his beating heart. Only Dallon. Only Dallon.

“You’re probably right.” He touched his lips with his fingers absently. “Alright, I’m gonna go do that.” He got up to leave the kitchen, but stopped in the doorway to look back at Dallon.

Dallon was watching him, not smiling but not not smiling, and he said with a hint of a laugh, “Go brush your teeth, Brendon.”

“Okay!” Brendon burst out laughing and turned to leave again, but he still managed to smile on his way upstairs.

* * *

“Are you doing better?” His mother asked later that day as she chopped vegetables at the kitchen counter for a soup she was making. Comfort food, he knew, but she didn’t say it so he didn’t point it out. It was like when he was sick as a child, sitting in bed with his tissues and pouting until his mother brought up her homemade chicken soup. Except now it was a different type of sickness, one a cup of medicine wouldn’t cure, one soup wouldn’t help, but he didn’t mention it, just appreciated that she tried.

“Yeah.” He plucked a piece of carrot from the chopping board and tossed it in his mouth. “Kind of. I talked to Dallon about it. He always makes me feel better.”

“Good.” She cupped a few vegetables and dropped them into the pot on the stove. His eyes followed, trying not to think about what Dallon had told him the night before, trying not to picture every time they’d eaten together and whether he was a terrible boyfriend for not noticing. “Dallon’s good for you. He’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

“I know, mama.” And he did. Dallon was good for him. Even when he went back and forth between wondering whether he was or not. Brendon thought irrationally sometimes. That wasn’t on Dallon. He was just worried that he was bad for Dallon, that Dallon was only blaming himself because he felt like he had to. “He’s starting therapy tomorrow.” He added, trying to remind himself that there was a reason for it. Dallon wanted to get better. It meant something. Something big.

“He is? That’s great.” She smiled fondly at her youngest. “Maybe you would benefit from that too. Therapy. Your psychiatrist suggested it, and I think-“

“No.” He interrupted. “I don’t feel comfortable with that. I told you. I’m already talking to Ms. Kenny and that’s good. I don’t want to talk to a stranger.”

“Okay, okay. Just a suggestion.” She surrendered, and he supposed he got defensive again. That happened sometimes.

He frowned as he realized how stubborn he was being. She didn’t mean anything by it. Just what the doctor told her. He didn’t want to play the blame game with his own mother. “Sorry. I just-“

“You’re not ready. It’s okay. It’s your decision.” She shrugged it off, but he felt bad anyway. She was just trying to help. He knew that. He just didn’t accept help so well. “But if you ever do want to, Brendon,”

“I know. Thanks, mama.” He smiled up at her, grateful, knew that most people didn’t have parents who cared, but he did. He did, and he didn’t want to take that for granted. It was just so hard not to sometimes. “I’m gonna go lay down. Will you call me when dinner’s ready?”

“Sure, ipo.” She kissed the top of his head before he could go and he swatted at her, but with no malice. She cared about him. She wanted him to get better. He wanted to stop hating everyone for caring.

It was all too much. Too much.

* * *

Dallon rocked back and forth on his heels as he checked himself in, having to fill out one of those mental health surveys and signing a consent form before he sat in the corner, the farthest seat from the desk, and tried not to think about it. Therapy. He told himself he wouldn’t go back. That was before Ryan did that thing he did. The thing he had mastered, really. Dallon didn’t like to say no to him. It was just part of his apology.

“Dallon?” Someone called from the doorway, and he looked up, numb, before he got up to follow her down the hall.

He promised he’d be better. That was why he was doing this.

“Hi, come in.” The woman whom he assumed to be his therapist greeted him, closing the door behind him. “My name is Doctor Martinek, Dallon, I’ll be talking to you about once a month unless I decide that you need it more. That’ll really depend on our sessions, but right now I just want you to ease into this. Is that alright with you?” Wordlessly Dallon nodded, pushing his sleeves down over his hands, so she gestured to the big brown chair across from her own. He guessed that had to be alright with him. At this point he didn’t really have a choice. “Take a seat, then. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Okay. Um. What should I start with?” He asked apprehensively, playing with his sleeves, suddenly nervous, he hadn’t done this in years. Telling a stranger all his problems. It wasn’t much easier said than done.

“Well, let’s start off easy. I wanna get to know you a little bit. Give me an introduction. Who are you?”

Who are you. Who was he? Didn’t she know that that was the most difficult question she could ask? “Uh. I don’t really... know. I’m an artist. I’m a senior in high school, so I’m going to the Art Institute next year for school. That’s kind of the only thing, so.” He played with his hands, already so immensely uncomfortable. “I’ve done therapy before but I stopped, and now I’m trying again cause, uh. My best friend thought I should. So did my mom. And I wanna try and get better, and I wanna stop expecting things to get better when I don’t try. So I’m willing to do anything.”

“That’s the spirit!” She smiled supportively and went to grab a fresh notebook off the top of her mahogany desk. “Alright, Dallon, I’m gonna ask you some simple things to get a feel for what to talk about first. Your mother told me a little bit about you when she made the appointment, but I’d like to hear from you. First of all, I wanna start with your support system. Tell me about the people in your life.” She flipped the page in her notebook.

The people in his life. The people in his life. There weren’t many of those. “What do you mean, exactly?” He asked dumbly, hoping he didn’t come across as nervous as he was.

“Your parents, your friends, relationship, any important people like teachers or mentors or anybody that has an important place in your life. Just tell me a little about these people so I can get an estimate on who you have in your corner. I study relationships so I think it would be beneficial to know for our sessions.”

“Oh. Okay. Uh. I have my mom, she’s really supportive of me being gay even though we’re religious and she cares a lot about me. My father died before I got into high school. That put a strain on all of my relationships. We were really, really close, so his death really affected me. For a while after that I didn’t talk to my two best friends, Josh and Ryan. We’re friends again, but we weren’t for a while, cause I was going through a lot and just didn’t care about anybody else. So I didn’t really have anybody at the time. My worst point. Other than them I’m friends with my roommate from when I spent time in the psychiatric hospital, his name is Silo, he’s a little far so I don’t see him often. And then there’s my boyfriend Brendon. We’ve been together about a year now. That’s pretty much it.”

She scribbled a list of names and he watched her pen move swiftly. “Okay, very good. And how would you describe these relationships?”

“Uh, tumultuous.” He said with a hint of a laugh in spite of himself, and she raised an eyebrow at him like she didn’t quite get the joke. “Um. It’s complicated. I’ve been through a lot of rough patches with all of them. Messed up a lot of things that I’m still trying to make up for. And I love them all, but sometimes I worry that the rest of my life is going to be me running around trying to make amends even though they all promise it’s okay because I don’t believe people when they tell me anything in my favor.”

“So in a sense, you could say that all of your relationships are unpristine, for lack of a better word, and you let this get to you.” She suggested, trying to fill in the blanks.

He nodded slowly, realizing that Brendon was in that category. He’d never imagined Brendon as unpristine. “Yeah, you could say that.” He agreed, though it was a hard pill to swallow. “It’s just hard to cut my losses and build new relationships because opening up is so hard. Especially when my past paints me in such a bad light.”

“Hm. Okay. I want to talk about forgiveness today, Dallon. About self-forgiveness, and external forgiveness. Can we do that?” He nodded, not daring to protest because he wouldn’t even know where to begin. “I want you to name for me all the people you have had conflict with or currently have conflict with. The important ones. The ones that have really affected you.”

“Okay. Um. Ryan. Josh too, I guess. Brendon... and my mom.” He listed, trying not to harbor such inexplicable guilt over things he couldn’t control anymore as this was supposed to help.

“Okay. That’s what I thought. We’re gonna do an exercise. Here I have— the Heartland Forgiveness Scale. This is really cliché, Dallon, so bear with me. This is a scale that you fill out questions on and based on your answers to the questions, I would be able to find your dispositional forgiveness opposed to that of one specific situation. I don’t use this on everybody I work with, but your situation in particular makes me wonder if this would be beneficial to you. It’s an eighteen question survey. Before we dive into this, would you mind filling it out for me?”

“Sure.” He peeped, and promised himself he wouldn’t lie, he always lied on those questionnaires, as she turned to grab one from her desk. “What’s gonna happen after I take this?” He asked, his voice sounding younger than he was, full of the fear of a first doctor’s visit. This was one, in a way. His first time in real therapy in years.

“Nothing, Dallon. I’ll just score you based on the likeliness of your forgiveness and we’ll see what to talk about from there. Here, honey. Here’s a pen.” She handed him a pen with a piece of paper and he forced a smile, going to fill out the first question.

He guessed he really wasn’t all that forgiving to himself, he realized as he checked a seven on one of the questions. Ryan came to mind when he scribbled down a four, and maybe that was where all of his forgiveness came from, his inability for so long to forgive Ryan. Punishing himself for it now. He hadn’t even realized until he was seeing it down on paper.

He handed her the paper when he was done and she went to score him quietly, giving him a second of silence to look around her room, the photo frames on the wall and the little glass ornament with toy fish inside. A drawing that a younger patient or a child must had given her, a mug of pens on the desk with the serotonin neurotransmitter printed on it.

“You got a fifty.” She announced, and he glanced up at her skeptically. “That means that you are more than likely to be unforgiving to yourself, others, and uncontrollable situations.”

“So basically all I know how to do is hold onto grudges.” He handed her back her pen. Not even the stupid surveys could tell him how to gauge what was wrong with him.

“Well, not exactly. This test isn’t always entirely accurate. There are subscales, too. I just gave you the most generic form. It may mean that in some areas, you’re more forgiving than others. For example...” She looked down at his paper. “According to your answers, you seem to be more forgiving toward others than you are yourself. Two, four, and six are all questions whose answers insinuate that you aren’t likely to forgive yourself. Can you tell me about that?”

“Yeah, uh. I... my father died when I was fifteen. After that I went through a lot, and for a few years I was really problematic. Doing dangerous things and not caring about the people I love and whatever. And at the same time, I had feelings for my best friend and he didn’t like me back so I resented him. After two years, I realized I couldn’t be that way forever, and I’ve forgiven him and everybody else for things I once blamed them for but I think— I think I’m still punishing myself for it.”

“You’re punishing yourself for hurting people during a time of emotional distress?”

“Not just that.” He added, and she looked up from writing something down. “I think I’m just... I feel like things are always my fault. Like my being gay made God want revenge on me, or something. I don’t know. I feel like things are my fault and that if I wasn’t the way that I am then bad things wouldn’t happen as much. People wouldn’t get hurt. I can’t forgive myself when I know that things are my fault.”

“So you’re guilty.” She suggested and he nodded. Guilty was a good word for it. He was always somehow so guilty. “Okay. This seems to relate to your answers to the uncontrollable situations as well. You seem as though you don’t cope easily with moving on from negative situations when they’re not under anybody’s control. Is this true?” Wordlessly, he nodded again. “Can you expand on that?”

“I guess I just look at everything that happens and like... I don’t understand it. I think a big part of me is that I need something to attribute every situation to. I’m Mormon, I believe in God, and so in a lot of situations, I question my faith if I have no one to blame. That ends up with me blaming God, and then I’m just in a bad position.”

“I see.” She jotted something down and he watched her, wondering what she writing, wanting to ask but having been to therapy enough times to know that it was confidential. “Alright. So you want to have something or someone to blame in order to help make things make sense. Most people do. What I want to address, however, is your thinking that your sexuality is directly related to your father’s death. How did he die?”

“He got in a car accident.” He twisted the ring on his finger, feeling it in all of his body because it never got any easier. “He was dead on impact.”

“But you had nothing to do with that. You weren’t in the car, or anything?”

His throat tightened at the reality. “No, I was home sleeping.”

“Okay. Look, Dallon, as terrible as the situation was, and as much as you want to search for a reason, death is inevitable. You can’t directly blame one person. Depending on the circumstances, sure, but you can’t take the blame. It’s traumatizing, what you’ve been through. It’s caused a lot of your issues now, I can imagine. And guilt is a normal emotion, you’re not wrong for feeling it, but what you must know is that you have no reason to feel guilty. You did not kill your father.”

He bristled away, and tears prickled at his eyes again. “Can we change the subject, please?” He peeped, his voice too quiet. “I’m not really ready to talk about this yet.”

“Sure, honey.” She made a note to return to it when he felt more comfortable. “Alright, then. I want to circle back to the friend you had feelings for. Tell me a little about that. What did you feel like when you were in this place?”

He shook his head, turning to watch the way the light leaked in through the blinds and shone on her desk, showing specks of dust floating in the air. “I felt wrong. It was the first time I had liked anybody, and a boy, no less, so when he didn’t like me back I felt gross. Like I was creepy, or desperate, or like being gay was wrong. I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, Dallon. Your feelings are valid.” She wrote something down and he only half nodded, not knowing what exactly to say to that. “Would you say this affected your beliefs? Maybe involving your religion and yourself? You said you feel as though your father’s death was God’s revenge.”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I think that there’s a reason bad things keep happening to me. I grew up being told that homosexuality is a sin so when I come out and then a month or two later my father dies, it just... it rubs me the wrong way. It makes me think. I know it sounds ridiculous, and I don’t want to believe that everything is all tied together like that, I don’t want who I am to drastically affect the universe. I just... I’m getting off track.” He shook his head. “Ryan.”

“Ryan. The boy you had feelings for.”

“Yeah. His name is Ryan.”

“Do you still have feelings for him?” She asked, and there was a question. There was a question nobody but the boy himself had asked him in a really, really long time.

He nodded slowly, going to pick at the hole in the knee of his jeans. “I think that in situations like that you always love someone. I mean, he’s my best friend. He has been since we were babies. We grew up together. He was the first person I had a crush on, and my first kiss, and I’m so madly in love with my boyfriend but I’m under the impression that when you love somebody part of you always loves them. Whether it’s platonic love or romantic love or unrequited love. Part of me will always have that. That doesn’t mean all of me isn’t with Brendon right now.”

“That’s a really interesting way of looking at things, Dallon.” She commended, he didn’t know if that was good or not, and he watched her write that down. “So, tell me about Ryan. Who he is. Why you liked him.”

He hesitated, hated letting his mind think back to it because it reminded him too much of how wrong he was. “At the time, I just needed someone, I think.” He started slowly, never having analyzed it much himself. “Ryan’s been my best friend my whole life. One of my only friends. He’s really smart, he wants to be a therapist one day, I’m pretty sure. He likes helping people. I think that’s why he stayed friends with me. I go to him for advice. He seems to know everything about everything.”

“That’s a good quality for somebody to have. Especially when you need someone to confide in.” She figured.

He played with his sleeves awkwardly. “Yeah, he’s the person I confide in most of the time. When you grow up with someone it’s hard to go from telling them everything to not telling them anything. I never grew out of that. Only when we stopped being friends for a while, but that doesn’t really matter anymore.”

“I wouldn’t say it doesn’t matter.” She contested. “Something like that could majorly affect a relationship.”

“Yeah, I know. That... that’s why I’m guilty and still blame myself. Cause I just always have this underlying feeling that I’m fucking things up. I fucked things up once and I’m going to do it again. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I mean, I know it’s ridiculous. After I apologized I kept saying sorry every day for months until I could trust that they weren’t mad. I almost ruined the only true friendships I’ve ever had because I was so petty and insecure.”

“Well, grief makes people do a lot of bad things, Dallon. Sometimes it’s best to thank the memories for their lessons and then send them away. Let yourself heal without the burden of your past mistakes. They can be useful but you don’t want them hanging over your head. I can work with you on that a bit later, if you’d like.”

He nodded, didn’t see any other choice, but that was probably the best idea. Try to let go of some of his ghosts. Maybe he would feel lighter. Less burdened. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay. Go on. Tell me about your friend Ryan. How your relationship with him made you feel. I’d like some insight on how this affected you at the time and how it continues to affect you.”

“Oh. Uh, I don’t know. I felt... safe. Like loving my best friend was the safest way not to get my heart broken. He’d been there to pick up the pieces from every bad thing that had happened to me during my youth so I thought he would be there for that too. And he wasn’t, but it wasn’t that simple. We had something, kissing every once in a while, almost having sex, but we didn’t. We couldn’t. He didn’t like me that way. I liked him too much for my own good. And I still feel guilty because I feel... gross. Like I forced him. And sometimes he initiated the kissing and he told me he wanted me to be happy and he led me on, he led me to believe that what we had was more than some weird friends with benefits thing, but it wasn’t. It never was.”

“You felt like you forced him?” She clarified, and he nodded.

“Yeah. And a few months ago my boyfriend was sexually assaulted, and a few weeks after it happened we tried to have sex and he freaked out. It was his idea and I told him I didn’t think he’d be ready but... he was trying. And I know that that wasn’t my fault but I still feel guilty. Having this feeling of forcing him to do something. And Ryan— Ryan was raped when he was twelve. And his father abused him for years until he moved out from his house. He’s been in therapy since he was raped. So that made it worse. The fact that I tried so hard to be with him. My skin crawls when I think about it. That I would even dare try that when he had been in such an awful place.”

“So because of the tough places these boys have been in respectively, you feel guilt over what you’ve done with them, no matter the circumstances.” She put together, trying to make sense of the jumbled mess of his life. It was surprising he hadn’t resorted to therapy sooner.

“Yeah.” He looked down at his lap, picked at the skin around his nails, and the thought made his head ache. “Like I’m no different than an attacker.”

“Okay, Dallon. Honey. You’re not— you’re not an attacker. Consensual sex is okay. If they initiated it and were okay with it then you are in no way an attacker.”

“I know, logically I know, I just... I feel horrible. Every time I think of it I feel horrible and sick and like I’m going to puke.” He felt sick even as he was talking about it.

“But Ryan’s forgiven you.” She pointed out, as if she knew their relationship, and he guessed that was true, Ryan had forgiven him. He was strong and caring and perfect and he had forgiven him.

“Yeah. I just haven’t forgiven myself.” He realized as the words came out, and then suddenly he felt like he had to go apologize again.

“We’ll work on that, Dallon.” She assured him, and he tried to smile, prayed it would work because he was sick of the guilt. “How is your relationship now? With Ryan?”

“It’s okay. As okay as it can be. I mean, we grew up together, we’re like family. I don’t know why I ever messed with that. He always came to me when he needed a shoulder to cry on. I loved being that for him. Now he doesn’t do it as often, and so I don’t know if that’s because we’ve drifted or because he has less issues than he did then. Or if he doesn’t want my advice because it’s really not that great. I don’t know. But we’re close again. Much closer than we were after I apologized the first time.”

“And does this affect your relationship with Brendon? Knowing that you’re still friends with somebody you’ve had strong feelings for?”

“Not really. Sometimes, maybe, he asks questions but it seems to be more out of curiosity than jealousy or malice. I think he’s too good to be jealous. That’s one thing about him. He’s really unique, doesn’t follow standards. He’s not the norm. He wears nail polish and girly, childish clothes, he doesn’t do what everyone expects him too. He’s really rare in that regard. I’m thinking of asking him to move in with me this summer, too. We haven’t talked about it, but I’m committed to him. I think that right now, when he’s the only thing that makes me feel better, waking up to him could be really good for me. I’m still working on weighing the pros and cons but I’m pretty dead set on this plan.”

“Moving in is a really big step, Dallon. Especially at your age.” He nodded in agreement, knew it was a big decision, but it made sense, didn’t it? Trying to keep his Brendon. Getting to wake up to him. It was a win win. “Why don’t you tell me a little about him and your relationship with him, then?”

“Yeah, uh. We knew each other from school, and we always bumped into each other. We were acquaintances. Became friends junior year, and we started dating in March. And for a really long time I thought that I would be a shitty boyfriend because of everything, and how I treated my friends, but with him it’s different. I feel like I want to take care of him. And I do, I think, or at least as much as I can. He’s my best friend. The most important thing to me is that he’s happy.”

“It’s interesting that you say you want to take care of him. It makes me wonder if, and this includes platonic relationships too, that is the kind of mentality you have with relationships. Someone needing to take care of the other.”

“I mean, yeah. There’s always a balance, and sometimes he takes care of me too, but it’s like... I don’t know how to explain it. Like I need to. Like he’s a part of me and I need him to be okay so that I’m okay.”

“That’s a very interesting way to put it, Dallon.” She wrote that down and he nodded, not really catching the tone of voice. “So what about Brendon makes you want to take care of him?”

“Everything. I don’t know. His demeanor. His past. Just the way he is. He’s this tiny, adorable, innocent little thing, and I love him, I want him safe. And he’s not and that’s the problem. He was drugged and sexually assaulted this past fall. And since then he’s been different. He was diagnosed with depression, which I’ve suspected he’s had for a while, or at least some type of anxiety thing. He has this thing where he’s really scared of everything. And we’ve been through a lot in the time that we’ve been together. I can’t help it; I just have this need to protect him. I feel like that’s why I’m here. Why I exist.”

“It sounds like you’re taking all of this on, Dallon. Your boyfriend and your friends’ issues. This is a lot for one person to handle at a time. Especially in the position that you are now. Are these things you think about in your daily life?”

“Yeah. They’re all really important to me.”

“It’s not bad to want to help people. But when guilt over not helping them or stress is becoming overbearing, you may want to watch yourself. It can be very detrimental to your health to have the weight of everybody else’s problems on your shoulders too.”

“I know. I know it’s not good to focus on everyone else. I’ve gotta focus on me too. But I love the people in my life and I want to help. It’s hard not to.”

“It’s important that you want to help, Dallon. It really is. But I wonder if by wanting to help them, you’re putting yourself at risk.” She raised a brow at him and he just shrugged, looking away as she tapped her pen against the notebook. “Okay. I want to talk more about forgiveness within yourself, if you’re up for that.”

He nodded, thankful for the change of subject. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s talk about forgiveness.”

* * *

On Monday afternoon, Brendon was back in Ms. Kenny’s office, drinking a Coke today and kicking at the strap of his backpack with the toe of his sneaker as they talked. He wanted to talk about his nightmares today, as that was what had been on his mind since... well, he didn’t want to have to relive it.

“I used to have these dreams where I was... like, being raped. And I had another one this weekend. And I don’t know why I had them when I was young but now it’s like, scarier, almost. Because it’s real. Because there was a person who hurt me, and, like, I don’t know. I was with Dallon, and we talked about it, and I feel better but I can’t shake this stupid feeling.” He played with his hands, his eyes parting from hers because it was hard to acknowledge it on his own, let alone with someone staring back at him.

“Well, Brendon, I don’t think I can tell you why you were having nightmares then, that seems a little out of my abilities, but I can tell you that the assault probably reactivated traumatic memories and is manifesting itself in your dreams. Whatever happened, whatever content you were exposed to, the assault brought back those feelings.”

“But I don’t know what happened! That’s the thing! How am I supposed to know what traumatic memories were resurfaced if I don’t know what they are?!” He argued, but his tone was pleading. He just wanted to know. All of this was just because he didn’t know.

“I don’t know. It’s a tough situation, seeing as your family can’t recall anything specific either and you have obviously repressed whatever it is that put these dangerous ideas in your head. There are types of therapy that may help, but I think us talking about it can help too. It may help you uncover some of your repressed memories or thoughts.”

He squirmed around in his seat uncomfortably. He didn’t like the idea that something happened to him and he didn’t know what it was. It was like something was constantly lurking in the back of his mind, waiting for the worst possible time to return. That time was now, he guessed, as it brought back the nightmares of his youth. He thought he’d gotten rid of those. He thought he’d gotten rid of that piece of him.

He felt like he had somehow regressed and all of the progress he had made was useless. Scared again, like the little kid that slid into his parents’ bed each night because he was too scared of monsters to sleep alone. Hiding from the outside world because too many bad things happened out there. He didn’t want to be that way again. He just didn’t know how not to be.

“Can we talk about something else?” He asked instead of pushing the issue further, deciding that giving up prematurely was a better choice than wondering.

She nodded, making a note of something in her notebook. Doesn’t want to talk about the truth, probably. He wouldn’t be shocked. It was true. He hated confrontation and feeling like his mind was out to get him.

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?” She asked, and he could tell she was trying to get him to stop thinking about it so much. There was no use in dwelling. Sometimes people had repressed memories. He had to make his peace with the fact that he did too.

He nodded, so she opened the floor back up to him. “It’s Valentine’s day.” He said matter-of-factly, something else that had been on his mind.

“Yes, it is.”

“I never believed in Valentine’s day.” He continued, though he didn’t really have a point. He just wanted to ramble. “I think it’s a dumb made up holiday. I don’t need a specific day to love someone. I love my boyfriend every day. But it feels different because after our break, all I wanna do is be around him. It’s like I’m so scared of losing him that I don’t want to let him out of my sight.”

“Are you guys doing anything special?”

“No, just hanging out at his house. I think that after everything, we wanna keep things lowkey. It’s exhausting trying to be a perfect couple. We fuck up too much when we try. So we’re just gonna let things happen and spend the day together like we usually do, and I’m not gonna think about how scary it is that our time could be limited.”

“Or it could last much longer, depending on whether that's what you both want or not.”

“I do. I think it’s what Dallon wants too, but then again I don’t really know.” He tucked his hands in between his thighs with a shrug. “He’s been opening up a lot lately. It feels like he trusts me more, or something. Like after we took a break, it gave us more room to love each other. Which sounds weird, and not really how love works, but I don’t know. It makes sense to me.”

“So in a way your break worked, even if it wasn’t exactly in the way you expected it to.” She supplied for him, making meaning out of something where he hadn’t seen it before.

“Yeah, I guess it did. So it’s good that we did it. I mean, for the most part I hated it. Being away from him. But it showed me that I could be, if I needed to be, but also that I know he’s good for me. Because seeing him again after that week was just so... reaffirming. Like I remembered that I do have something that makes me happy.”

“Which is important in itself.” She observed. He nodded, it was important, so important, and she wrote something down with a smile. “Okay, Brendon. I wanna switch gears here and talk about your grades for a second. I noticed that your statistics grade went up a point.”

“It did?” He scooted closer, and she went to pull up his account on the computer.

“Yep. Come see.” She turned it toward him, and Brendon leaned forward to read the numbers on the screen. It wasn’t what he wanted but it was better, slow improvement compared to before, and he wondered briefly if maybe his luck was changing.

* * *

Brendon looked up from his phone suddenly, the room had been silent for half an hour, when his stomach growled angrily at him. Dallon looked up across the couch, startled, and Brendon said blatantly, “I’m hungry.”

“I can tell.” Dallon answered, and Brendon slid his phone into his hoodie pocket as he climbed off of the couch and went to find something to eat, not bothering to ask permission because he’d been more than just a guest in the home for a while. “We don’t have a lot here,” Dallon followed him into the kitchen, hands on his hips.

“I can see that.” Brendon rummaged through the cabinets, didn’t bother with the fridge. He never had a problem making himself at home and trying to find comfort in his boyfriend, anyway. Dallon’s house was no different than him. “I want something unhealthy. I hate healthy food. You’ll still love me when I don’t have my girlish figure, I know you will.” He ran his hands over his hips, wasn’t joking though he smiled as if he was. He didn’t care about that kind of stuff when there was so much more to be worried about. Dallon looked at him though, and in light of what they had talked about it was probably a bad joke. “Can we go shopping or something? Find some sort of unhealthy snacks? Cause I don’t really wanna have to eat your mom’s weird apple chips and maybe some fresh air would be good for us.”

Dallon watched Brendon rock back and forth on his socked heels like a child. “Yeah.” He sighed, and Brendon grinned when he went to go grab his keys and slip on his sneakers. “Sure, baby.”

“Yay.” Brendon slid on his own shoes and grabbed his jacket when Dallon went to click off the lights. He was sick of sitting at home, ruminating over all the same things and scrolling through all the same feed and driving himself up the damn wall. He didn’t want to be stuck inside forever. He wanted to go out tonight, enjoy his company.

The lights of the grocery store were bright and fluorescent when the rest of the world was getting darker; Dallon pulled a carriage out from by the door and Brendon stood by, hated shopping with his mother but smiled watching the way his boyfriend maneuvered the cart.

Brendon placed a foot on the rung underneath the carriage and pushed himself up, and Dallon watched with intrigue as he climbed in and tried to accommodate to the small space. He could barely fit, and as he crossed his legs his knees hit the metal sides of the carriage, but he just grinned up at his boyfriend cheekily when Dallon smiled fondly down at him. “What are you doing, dork?”

“I’m tired!” Brendon laughed, folding his hands innocently in his lap. “You can direct me to the snack aisle, sir.”

Dallon rolled his eyes but smiled, Brendon was just so irresistible, and began to push the now heavier carriage toward the aisle lined with chip bags. “You are so weird.”

“Please, you totally wanna have my babies.” Brendon retorted, and they stuck their tongues out at each other as Dallon pushed him toward their destination.

“I neither confirm nor deny.” Dallon smirked, looking for the directory signs, avoiding his gaze as Brendon giggled.

“Hey, I’ll pay. I got my paycheck today and I’m rich.” He raised his hands up in celebration; his paychecks really weren’t that much, but tonight it was enough for them. “We can get all the snacks in the store, sunshine.”

“Hell yeah.” Dallon pushed the carriage right into the snack aisle and let Brendon take the reins, reaching out to grab at a few different bags. Dallon laughed, swore sometimes that he fell more in love with his Brendon, as the boy tried to grab at a bag of Doritos on the bottom shelf. He bent down to grab it for him, and Brendon held the family sized bag close to his chest and beamed like it were Dallon’s Valentine’s day present to him.

In a strangely good mood, Brendon laughed as he climbed out of the carriage, almost falling and having to have Dallon catch him before he could, but he practically clung to him after he had paid and followed him to the car. The night was cool in a way that only February was, a strange kind of cool where he could feel spring only two months away, still too far but close enough to have a little bit of hope for it.

“I realized that I loved you on Christmas.” Brendon spoke suddenly from the passenger seat, and Dallon turned to look at him. “I mean, we weren’t together so I wasn’t in love with you, but I realized that I loved you after we gave each other our presents and you hugged me and it felt... right. Like I could feel whatever we were changing into, something so much more serious, and all at once I realized that I needed you. And I was falling in love with you. And I knew that I was in love you when we talked that day at the cemetery, and you told me that you remembered my past and I think it was right there that I realized that you’ve listened to me more than anybody ever has. And since then you’ve listened to every word I’ve said and I love you because you’ve given me no choice but to.”

“Oh.” Dallon didn’t know what to say. He turned to look at Brendon, knees to his chest and eyes on Dallon like he had spent all this time trying to figure him out, like he finally had. Dallon smiled, because after all this time, he still had no idea what to say. “I never knew that. That’s so sweet.”

“Yeah, that didn’t come without a price. Tell me yours.”

Dallon threw his head back against the seat with a laugh. “Mine is stupid though.”

“Lemme hear it.” Brendon nudged his arm, smiling fondly, and Dallon tilted his head to this side. “C’mon!” He poked him in the side and giggled.

“Okay, Jesus, pokey.” Dallon squirmed away from him. “Um, it was in May. And this one day I went to the diner and sat there and you told me to eat something because you hadn’t seen me eat anything in a while, and I was kind of annoyed because you were pushing it and it’s a sensitive subject. But you didn’t even know about, y’know, my physical stuff. And you weren’t mean about it, you just brought me food and told me to take care of myself and I realized right then, like, you take care of me in every way it matters. Letting me stay at your house when I didn’t want to be home, listening to me rant even when I exhausted you, taking the time to get to know me, I used to think that high school relationships were just high school relationships and then that day I realized that whatever we were wasn’t temporary. Not for me, and I could tell it wasn’t for you either. You care about me like no one ever has, and I realized that you’re the person I want around me forever. And I thought it was too soon to tell you so I waited.”

Brendon gave him a calculated look, eyes soft and mouth ajar. “So we realized that we were in love with each other around the same time. It just took me a minute longer.”

“Yeah.” Dallon whispered, nodding slowly. Brendon stared at him for what felt like too long, and then he was leaning over to place a hand on Dallon’s shoulder and pull him into a kiss.

Dallon stilled for a moment at the sudden contact, Brendon still having been on the line of caution, but as the latter tugged him close and slid his hand up to cup the side of his neck, Dallon relaxed into his touch. Every time they touched it felt like it had been years since the last time, and Dallon was slowly getting used to the feeling of Brendon’s skin again. He’d missed it.

Quietly, Brendon breathed out against his lips, “I am so madly in love with you.”

And Dallon sighed like just then, pieces fell back together after having spent so much time apart. He couldn’t find the words to say that would relay just how badly he needed him, how he adored him something stupid. How he’d give up the world once, twice, a thousand times for him. But his feelings for Brendon were ineffable. He could never find so many words to say, so he didn’t say any at all. Just pressed his mouth to Brendon’s like there was a time and a place to stay away and this wasn’t it, because they were magnetic and electric and indestructible.

God, I am so madly in love with you too.

“Take me home, Dally.” Brendon whispered, pulling away just enough to smile before their lips met again transiently. And Dallon could only nod, but one hand found its way to Brendon’s without even trying.

Behind the closed front door of Dallon’s apartment, he had Brendon’s sides under his palms as they made their way to the couch, a plastic bag hanging off Brendon’s right arm. He laughed against Dallon’s mouth because it was just... it was silly, the way they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other as they traipsed into Dallon’s home, how Brendon could feel the presence of his boyfriend’s hands on his waist and the weight of the plastic bag from the store, how when he walked backward toward the couch, the bag swung back and forth and alternated between hitting him and hitting Dallon. It was silly, and Brendon was laughing.

Brendon sat down on the couch and leaned back with Dallon’s face in his hand as he dropped the bag on the ground beside him, taking bites at Dallon’s lips in between laughs and grins. Dallon kneeled in front of him on the couch, smiling and blushing wildly, and Brendon asked, “Now?”

Dallon shook his head. “Mom’s home.”

“The first time I wanna do it in five months and your mom is home.” Brendon laughed down at his lap, unbuttoning his jeans smoothly. It was funny how things worked out sometimes. He slid his jeans down until he was sitting in his underwear, kicking them aside and settling down as he kissed Dallon again, still grinning a warm, honey grin, sweet like strawberries, leaving pink everywhere.

“You’re ridiculous.” Dallon accused when Brendon tried to tug his jeans off but helped anyway, because there was no harm in compliance.

Brendon giggled as Dallon slid his jeans off and sat a cushion away from him, setting their plastic bag of snacks in between them until Brendon reached out to peek inside. Sometimes it was like Brendon’s anxiety lost its advantage over him when he stopped thinking long enough to let it. The thought almost made Dallon startle, as he watched Brendon across the couch, devouring a bag of chips like it was nothing.

He didn’t often care when he was with Brendon. About what he looked like or what he did or what he said, because everything felt comfortable. Brendon would laugh occasionally to himself like he had done something just hilarious and Dallon was amused, really, at how weird he was, how well it worked. How he never thought he would get along with someone like this so well.

As they picked at their snacks in the midst of a conversation about nothing important, Brendon stretched his leg out to toe at Dallon’s bare calf. “Hey, I have a question.”

Dallon smiled and cupped a few chips in his hand, loved his childishness and inquisition. “What’s your question?”

“So, back before you and I were established, you know, when we were what the kids call just friends,” Brendon made air quotes with his fingers, and Dallon’s eyebrows went up in curiosity, “we did all sorts of... stuff. Like going out for macarons all the time, and the museum, dinners, lunch— was that all intentional? Did you see those as dates?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Dallon nodded and Brendon offered him a look as the former tossed the handful of chips into his mouth and wiped his hand on a napkin he’d grabbed from the kitchen.

“Really. Huh.” Brendon quirked an eyebrow and looked away to pull a chip out of the bag in his lap.

Dallon watched him, smiling. “What?” He asked incredulously.

“No, nothing.” Brendon shook his head, but Dallon nudged his leg with his foot, skeptical because hadn’t they both established that? Everything was hidden until it wasn’t.

“Tell me.” He urged.

“No, just... I didn’t think you could be so... indirect. I wish you had just asked me on a date instead of pretending all of those were. But still, I appreciate the sneaky attempts.” He folded his arms confidently. “I’ll have you know that I thought they were dates too.”

Dallon hummed, rolled his eyes, went to snatch a chip from Brendon’s bag. “See, I know you have a totally heteronormative notion on relationships, but you could have asked me on a date too, Urie. I don’t have to do all the dirty work.”

“Yes, you do. And that’s not what I mean.” He kicked Dallon’s leg. “It’s just that you’re so bold sometimes, it’s hard to believe you were too scared to ask me out. I mean, sometimes I’m still nervous to text you to ask if you can hang out. I’m still nervous around you, sometimes. Most of the time.”

“I was nervous around you too, Brendon. I just hid it better. The first day we worked together at the diner I went home and cried because I was so overwhelmed and happy. And every time we talked I wanted to ask you out, I practiced in front of the bathroom mirror and everything, but it was hard. I’m scared of rejection. I was scared of not being good enough.”

“That is so fucking dorky.” Brendon poked at his chest and Dallon scoffed, more joking than not, reaching out to grab his arm and pulling him close. Brendon laughed, pushing aside the snacks, and leaned forward when Dallon did too, meeting his mouth when Dallon pulled him closer.

An arm went around his waist and Brendon held his face when he pulled away, grinning like a child. They knew they couldn’t but sometimes it was hard not to, because some days Brendon loved him more than others, days where he allowed himself to, days where his lips tasted bubblegum sweet and butterscotch truths fell from them despite their other bitter counterparts.

“I love you,” Brendon told him, and that was something he always meant.

“I know.” He assured him and Brendon giggled, touching his chest and kissing him again just because he could. Dallon was his. It felt good to know that.

He moved his hips down against Dallon’s and Dallon bit Brendon’s bottom lip, trying not to laugh at his ambition. It wasn’t funny, just amusing, though Brendon did find it humorous how apt he was to change. He was grateful for that sometimes, changing, when it was in a good way. Falling in love with Dallon Weekes was a good change.

“Hey.” Dallon interrupted, and Brendon grunted frustratedly, knowing that he was stopping it. “We can’t.”

“I know.” He pouted, slipping off his lap but resting a hand on his thigh nonetheless. “You good?”

“I’m good.” Dallon confirmed, and Brendon jumped up, grinning again.

“I’m gonna get some water. You want some?” Dallon nodded so Brendon went to grab two water bottles from the fridge, not quite catching the way Dallon’s eyes lingered on him. He returned a moment later to see Dallon’s eyes still on him, and he handed him a bottle, smirking to himself like it were a joke. “Were you looking at my ass?”

“Of course.”

“Bold.” Brendon plopped down beside him, making him laugh as he twisted the cap off. “So, I was reading this article about what the shape of your lips say about you." He added conversationally. Dallon reached out for a chip and raised his eyebrows, but Brendon knew it was silly. It just added to the charm.

"Okay, well, we're gonna breeze past how gay that is," Brendon giggled, "what do my lips say about me, then?"

Brendon sat up on his knees, grinning like an excited child at his playing along. "They're thin.” He reached out to tap his bottom lip. “That means you're a loner."

"Okay." Dallon laughed, shoving his shoulder when Brendon poked at him. "Okay, Urie, that’s not far off. What about you? What do your lips mean?"

"Pleasure seeker." Brendon said matter-of-factly, and Dallon quirked an eyebrow again. "I'm serious. I'll send you the article." He laughed, and went to grab a handful of chips as Dallon’s mother entered the room and said hello, picking up after the mess they were making already because she couldn’t help it. Brendon held his cupped hand to his chest, still smiling warmly to himself. “Hi, mother in law.” He sang jovially, slipping his foot underneath Dallon’s thigh.

“Hi, son in law. Hi, son who is making a mess and leaving it for your poor mother to clean.” She gestured to the empty bags and Dallon clenched his teeth and hissed out an awkward apology as he got up from his spot to help her clean it up. “I haven’t seen you around much, Bren. How have you been? Is everything okay?”

“Oh, everything is... everything. I’ve been okay. On and off.”

“Well, it takes time.” She figured, and knew firsthand, after all, so he trusted her judgment. Today was a good day, though. That meant something when he’d had so many bad days lately. “Thank you, Dals.” She kissed his forehead and he smiled. “Alright. I love you guys, but you gotta go. I want my TV. You have a perfectly good bedroom.”

Dallon tsked at her but Brendon jumped up, never wanted to be on her bad side, and gathered the snacks in his arms like his children. Dallon let him, he didn’t offer any help because he was already starting down the hall, probably having been itching to get alone behind a closed door anyway. He followed, flicking on the light.

“Come cuddle.” Brendon requested as he flopped down on the mattress gracelessly, extending an arm for him.

Dallon did as he was told, smiling in amusement. “You’re so funny.” He said, more of an observation than anything, and Brendon didn’t really do anything but he appreciated that Dallon thought so. He laughed, and Dallon added, “I’m glad you’re happy. You’re having a good day, huh?”

Brendon nodded as he climbed into the bed beside him, hovering just slightly above him. “Yeah, I am. I’m having fun with you. And I had a good day at school. I found out my grade went up a little in stats.”

“It did?” Brendon nodded, beaming up at him. “Bren, that’s awesome. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you!” He giggled, tugging at the neck of Dallon’s shirt, inexplicably happy today. They were together, they were okay, his mind wasn’t on all of the bad things. Most of the time it was, but today it wasn’t. “Hey, I didn’t ask if you were good with this. All the snacks. What we talked about.” He added, having been too nervous to ask all night because Dallon seemed alright. He didn’t always want to bring the bad things up.

“I’m okay.” He insisted, twisting the fabric of Brendon’s tee shirt in his fingers as he settled down. “Some days are better than others. I appreciate that you’re concerned about me, though.”

“Yeah.” Brendon poked aimlessly at the scar on his chin, not saying anything else but seeming like he wanted to. Sometimes Brendon rambled just to fill the silence. Dallon liked that about him. But he remained silent, instead just watched him like he were something worth watching.

“Hey.” Dallon said in a voice just above a whisper, blue eyes searching brown ones for anything that Brendon didn't say. “I’ve got you, right?”

“Yeah.” Brendon nodded, brushing hair behind Dallon’s ear. Of course he had him. He didn’t have to think twice about that. “Yeah, baby. You’ve got me.”


	50. Chapter 49: Trapped Between Two Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan's past chapter!!! He is my favorite character in Remedied and I love him and every scene he's in :)

Ryan Ross was a boy who grew up in a family of people who never seemed to be as on edge as he was. He never thought that was because he was special, or destined for greater things, or because he knew something they didn’t. He thought it was just a matter of being the one that got the short end of the stick, and knowing what that meant for him.

His father was an angry man. Went to war years ago and came back to start a family, though he never should have. He liked to drink too much. Alcohol and blood didn’t mix.

Ryan was the second of four. His older brother was the golden boy and his younger sisters were angels. It didn’t leave much room for him. He had been the only one who knew the worst of it— or experienced the worst of it, as his siblings had seen it but never stood up for him out of fear. He didn’t blame them. He probably wouldn’t have stood up for him either.

He watched these sitcoms on TV in the middle of the night sometimes when he knew his father was too drunk to wake up. And he saw these perfect families and wished he could understand that. That feeling of belonging. The way everyone fit together so seamlessly and laughed and hugged and cried together. He wanted some sort of bond. Back then, he didn’t understand why this was what he got instead.

He wanted someone strong looking out for him. A God, though he’d retired that idea pretty early. He didn’t have his father, as he was the one Ryan needed protecting from. And his mother was naive, writing to Romeo and Juliet for love advice but never knowing the truth about them. That was the thing about tragedies. They were tragic.

His father sat in the computer room doing something Ryan couldn’t quite see. He was hesitant at first, never knowing how to ask, because it seemed he was always on the verge of yelling. That was just who his father was.

“Can I go to Dallon’s?” Ryan asked quietly from the doorway, rocking back and forth on his feet. His father looked up at him, brown eyes dead, and the boy felt the need to leave the room, always seeming to sense when his father didn’t want to be bothered.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“He’s my best friend, dad.” Ryan tried, though he knew. His dad didn’t like the Weekes family. It was just the way it was. “Please? I can ask mom to drive me.”

“I said no, Ryan. I don’t think you should be hanging out with him. He’s a bad influence on you. You don’t need to be friends with a girly boy. You need to make friends with boys who are real boys.”

Ryan frowned innocently, the words making him ache. Dallon was his best friend. Just because he did art and didn’t like sports didn’t mean he was too feminine for Ryan to be friends with. “But-“

“I don’t want you becoming a faggot, Ryan. I said no. Go get some normal friends. Now, I’m busy.” He turned away, leaving Ryan to stare at his back. “Shut the door on your way out.” He demanded, and Ryan tried not to sniffle until the door was shut.

He headed down the hall, trying to configure the words in his head to tell Dallon he couldn’t make it over.

* * *

At eleven years old, Ryan broke his arm.

It wasn’t an accident. His mother thought it was, and his father said it was. That was the thing about them. She always tended to believe him because he was her husband and Ryan was just her kid. He was a kid. Eleven years old was young, but then again it was old enough to know the truth clearly.

He sat in a hospital bed with his wrist wrapped in an uncomfortable fabric, imprinting his skin with a pattern as he waited for surgery. His father was nowhere to be found, claiming that he had something important to do for work, and his mother had gotten home to find her youngest son doubled over in pain. She brought him to the hospital. Listened to him tell his story, but she told the doctors something different. Whether she didn’t believe it or didn’t want to believe it, Ryan never truly figured that out.

His arm ached and he tried not to cry, because he never really did around anybody but Dallon’s family. That was the way it was. He wanted to find his little flip phone that his mother had given him for emergencies, she’d claimed four months prior when she gifted it to him seemingly out of nowhere. But he’d left it at home, and it was feeling too forced to ask his mother to borrow hers. Like he was trying to replace her with Dallon’s mother. Replace his father, too. He didn’t see a problem with that. He saw them as his real family, anyway.

“It was an accident, Ryan.” She insisted when he made a snarky comment about his father, though honestly he couldn’t tell whether she was trying to convince him or herself. It was always the same song and dance. His father could never do anything wrong in her eyes. He was a god.

“How do you accidentally break someone’s arm, mom? He did it on purpose!” He tried, but knew how it ended up. It always ended the same way. In the end, he knew who she was going to believe.

“He loves you, Ryan, come on.” She sighed. Always thought he was out to get his dad for no real reason. Just a malicious kid, bored and trying to make a scene. She never stopped to wonder why he would say these things.

“Then where is he?” He asked, and she only stood up swiftly. That was what people in his family did in situations like these. Turned a blind eye.

“I’m gonna get you some water, you’re probably thirsty.” She said instead of a real answer. He knew she’d ignore it. She only saw what she wanted to see.

“Mom.” He called after her, and with hesitance clear one every movement she turned to look at him. Expecting an apology, he thought, but he wasn’t prepared to give one. He wasn’t sorry. He wasn’t going to hide from a man who wanted just that. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Can you call Dallon and his parents? I want them.”

Her eyes lingered on him for a minute before she nodded, but he could see the heartbreak in her eyes. He didn’t care all that much. She took sides. When she took his father’s side, he needed to find someone to be on his, too.

* * *

About half a year later Ryan stared down at his notebook unseeingly as Dallon rambled off the question in his textbook, he wasn’t understanding and Ryan was great at math, but Ryan didn’t understand either, everything was so hard to understand, and he couldn’t stand listening to this anymore. Math didn’t matter. They didn’t go to the same school, and Dallon was learning a completely different subject, and Ryan couldn’t, he just—

“Hey, Dallon? Can I ask you a question?” Ryan asked in interruption of the long-standing silence. Dallon nodded, looking up from his textbook unknowingly as he was glad to take a break. Math was frustrating. Solving problems was useless. In the real world, no problem had an easy solution. “Can— do you... do you think that women can rape?”

Dallon dropped his pencil and looked up at him, eyes wide, even as Ryan looked down. Ashamed in himself for letting it happen, scared to admit that it did. Or not admit it, just ask what he thought, because it was worth asking. He didn’t really know what he thought of it himself.

“Are you okay?” Dallon asked quietly, his heart in his stomach. He stared and Ryan said nothing, eyes filled with tears, already wishing he hadn’t said anything, and Dallon added, “Can I get my dad?”

Wordlessly Ryan nodded, tears slipping down his cheeks, and Dallon scrambled to get out of his bed, abandoning his math homework where he had never found the solution. Ryan covered his face with his hands, body trembling when he closed his eyes and thought of it. He wanted to stop thinking about it. To pretend it didn’t happen. It all felt like a nightmare, anyway. Like a bad nightmare, except he couldn’t wake up from it.

Dallon returned with his dad and stood awkwardly by the door, obviously nervous and confused. It was confusing. His father took a seat beside Ryan on the bed, not saying anything at first, and when he saw his tears Dallon went to join them. Claimed the spot on the other side of his best friend, and enveloped him in a hug when Ryan shifted swiftly into his arms.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened?” Dallon’s father asked gently, voice calm in the way it usually was. Ryan shook in Dallon’s arms, realizing the gravity of the truth. Things tended to hit him all at once.

“Um.” He wiped his cheeks unsteadily with shaking hands, not making eye contact as he spoke. “My dad— this woman was at our house. She stays sometimes with him when my mom’s working nights. My dad cheats on her.” He realized that everything started with his dad, and wondered why there had never been any repercussions. “She, uh. She came in my room. And...” He paused, throat dry, and Dallon tightened his arms around him, hooking his chin over his shoulder. “I didn’t tell my mom.”

“Ryan.” Dallon’s father sighed, not quite knowing what to say. Dallon didn’t either. He was silent, holding him close as his body couldn’t seem to stop shaking. “I think we need to talk to your mom. Is it okay if I call her?” Ryan nodded, seeming to have lost his voice. “Okay. I’ll be right back. Don’t worry. We’re gonna make sure she gets in trouble and that everything’s okay?”

Ryan nodded as he got up to leave, but knew deep down that it wouldn’t be okay. He couldn’t take it back. He buried his face in Dallon’s shoulder, burrowing deep into him.

* * *

Ryan sat silently beside Dallon on the couch, holding his hand tight and staring blankly at the TV. Dallon’s father had been on the phone for a while and Ryan felt sick, watching whatever was playing but not really processing any of it. Dallon was quiet beside him, just being there for comfort. He didn’t know what to say or do to help. He just wanted to be there.

“Okay. So, I spoke to your mother about everything, buddy.” Dallon’s dad started as he entered the room again, catching both boys’ attention. “She wants to talk to you when you feel better, but she understands your not wanting to be home. She knows you don’t like to be there anyway. So I was wondering if you’d like to stay with us for a while.”

Big brown eyes were innocent when they looked to his best friend for approval. Dallon nodded quickly, and so Ryan did too. “Can I?” He asked, looking to Dallon’s father for permission as if he hadn’t been the one that asked in the first place.

“I’m gonna ask Dal's mom if it’s okay and then I’ll call your mom back to tell her.” He promised. Ryan nodded, knew he couldn’t find the words to use to speak to her, or find it in him to admit that he didn’t feel safe in that house anymore. He never really had. He squeezed Dallon’s hand tight as Dallon’s father went to find the phone, leaving them alone in the living room together.

“That’s okay with you, right?” Ryan asked quietly, bumping his knee gently against Dallon’s.

“Yeah. Anything. As long as you’re safe.” Dallon peeped, huddling with him close. Ryan buried his face in the crook of his neck, closing his eyes and breathing deep as everything else became just noise.

That night Dallon went through the motions of preparing for bed as Ryan had already climbed in. He hadn’t left Dallon’s side all day and seemed to cling to him, growing attached to the only person who made him feel safe. Dallon understood. He didn’t want to let Ryan out of his sight now that he knew what could happen when he did.

He tied the string to his pajama pants aimlessly, asking, “Are you sure you don’t wanna sleep on the couch?”

Ryan shook his head, already comfortable under Dallon’s covers. He’d always hated his own bed, anyway. He was glad they were taking his sheets for evidence. “I’m scared.” He admitted in a whisper, and didn’t have to say much else for Dallon to understand.

“Okay.” He didn’t question him, didn’t push, just added after a second, “Can I hug you?”

Ryan stared at him. Shocked, because he didn’t understand how good one person could be. How there was such a contrast in this world. “Yeah.” He agreed, throat dry, and Dallon inched closer to wrap an around him, pulling him in against him so that they were warm, never too close for comfort. “Thank you for letting me stay.” He whispered, looping his arm around Dallon’s waist too.

“You’re my best friend. I wanna help.” He said as if it were obvious. As if not helping him wasn’t an option. Ryan put his forehead on his shoulder, breathing quietly for a moment, and everything felt strange, distant, like he wasn’t in his own body. He didn’t want to be. He didn’t know how to describe that to anybody who didn’t know how he felt.

“Why do so many bad things happen in my home?” He asked after a second, tears pooling in his eyes. Dallon had tears in his too when he shook his head to say that he didn’t know, because he didn’t. He never understood how that worked. If karma was only based on a household instead of an individual or if it was real at all. If it was all in God’s plan, which was what he was taught at school, but he couldn’t see how that would justify this. Ryan was a kid. He was just a little kid.

Dallon held him tight under the covers and Ryan sobbed into his shoulder, hiding because he didn’t want to see anything anymore, and Dallon couldn’t blame him. “I don’t know.” He whispered, wishing he could help, and his heart ached, and he felt sick, so he tightened his grip around him and prayed, because it was the only thing he knew how to do.

* * *

“My mom thinks I should go to therapy.” Ryan told Dallon one day a month after what had happened, once he had returned home and gotten situated again. Dallon didn’t want him to go, had begged to let Ryan move in, and his parents weren’t adverse but Ryan’s father had other plans. He never let Ryan do what was best for him. It was like it was his life mission to keep him miserable.

Dallon didn’t seem as shocked as Ryan had expected him to be. “Maybe that’s a good idea.” He said calculatedly, and Ryan really wasn’t expecting that either, because he sat up and looked at him in disbelief. “I mean, wouldn’t it be good to get it all off your chest? You have a lot to talk about.”

“But I don’t wanna be crazy, Dallon.” He sighed in exasperation, laying back on Dallon’s bed and staring at the stars on his ceiling. “I don’t want anyone to think I’m crazy. I don’t wanna think I’m crazy.”

“That won’t make you crazy. A lot of people go to therapy, I think. Don’t you wanna talk about everything?”

“No. I talk to you. That’s enough.” He looked at him grimly and Dallon didn’t know how to react, so he just stared. Plenty of people talked about their problems. There wasn’t anything wrong with that. “It's stupid, Dallon. Everyone already treats me like a kid who was touched. I don't need all that tell-me-where-the-bad-man-touched-you kind of bullshit. I don't want this to be who I am. It can't be who you are."

"Maybe that's why your mom wants you to go." Dallon suggested, trying to be supportive but also wanting him to get help just as much. It was hard to heal without help. Everybody learned that at least some point in their lives. "So you don't, like. Never get over it, or whatever."

Ryan sighed, fed up with living in the shadow of what had happened to him. "I just don’t get why she cares." He admitted after a moment. "I mean, this isn’t— this wasn’t the only thing to happen to me there. At that house. So why does she care now? Why didn’t she care all the other times I was hurt?”

“She’s still your mom, Ry.” Dallon said softly, but he knew that didn’t really mean anything. Ryan’s relationship with his mother had been rocky for most of his life. He didn’t trust her even though she was just as much of a victim.

“I don’t think she should be allowed to feel guilty that her kid was hurt in her own house when she never did anything to protect me. She could have gotten rid of him the first time I told her he hit me. She never did. She thought it was an accident. This isn’t something that could happen by accident.”

Dallon bit his tongue: he knew Ryan would never say the word. “I don’t know.” He supplied unhelpfully, making Ryan squirm in his place. He didn't expect anyone to solve his problems. This wasn't exactly something anybody could really solve. “Sorry. I don’t know. I think she has your best interest at heart.”

“I don’t think she does.” He disagreed. If she had his best interest at heart she would have made things right long before this happened. “I don’t know. I just— I don’t like being home. I was thinking of maybe not living there anymore.”

“Wait, what?” Dallon was taken aback. “What do you mean? Where would you go?”

“I have no idea. I just— I don’t wanna be there anymore. Around my dad. I don’t want to walk on tiptoes whenever he’s home. I feel like whenever he’s there, I can’t do anything. I don’t like that. I don’t like feeling like that.”

Dallon shifted, suddenly feeling too hot. Ryan was his best friend. He didn’t want him going anywhere. “I mean, you can stay here, but-“

“But my parents won’t let me.” Ryan interrupted. His mother loved the Weekes but his father made the rules. He never liked Dallon. He certainly didn't like the parents that had been substituting as his own for so long. “I don’t know. It’s irrational. It’s not like I could actually leave. I don’t know where I’d go. I’m not gonna, like. Run away or anything. I just want to never go home again.”

“I know.” Dallon agreed softly, not knowing what else to say. He felt guilty and sick for having a perfect family when Ryan was going through what he was going through. “I hope things get better.” He offered, because that was all he really knew how to say.

“Yeah.” Ryan agreed with a sigh, looking up at him with big eyes. “I do too.” He rolled over onto his stomach, exasperated. "Do you remember that kid we went to school with? He lived in a group home cause his parents didn't take care of him. What if I went to live there? In like, a group home?"

"Ryan." Dallon sat up, scared immediately at the idea of him living anywhere that wasn't nearby. "You can't. You still have your mom. And, like, Ardan, and your sisters. You have a family."

"Not a good one."

"But they're still your family." He insisted, his tone begging.

Ryan bit at his thumb nail, shaking his head. "You don't get it, Dal. You don't get what it's like to live with people who don't care about you. Just because they're my family doesn't mean they're who I should be living with."

"But I'm your family." Dallon added quietly, because he realized then that he was right. Dallon didn't know what that was like. He didn't want to know what that was like, and he felt terrible that Ryan did. But he didn't know anything about group homes or foster care. He didn't want him to get himself in a worse situation. "I'm gonna be here for you. Whether you have to live with your family or in some dumb group home or if you have to sneak out to live with me instead."

Ryan laughed, and he knew he was being irrational. He knew. There was no way he could get out of there anytime soon. "Yeah. I know." He agreed, and didn't know how to tell him that he was grateful for that.

* * *

The doorbell rang five times in a row and Dallon abandoned his homework to get up to answer, as his mother was in the shower and his dad hadn’t yet gotten home from work. They were letting him do that these days, get the door, giving him little responsibilities to help him feel more grown up. He was fourteen now and didn't want to keep feeling like a kid when he wasn't anymore. He peeked through the peephole and when he saw that it was Ryan, pulled open the door.

His smile fell when he saw his face. “You have a black eye.” He announced in lieu of a greeting, as if Ryan hadn’t noticed himself.

“My dad left.” Ryan rushed out, frantic for no real reason, though then again it was a reason in itself. It was a big deal. His father leaving. It was something he’d been waiting for his entire life.

Dallon let go of the doorknob, shocked at the news. Just a few days ago he was forcing Ryan to stay home, claiming that he was grounded so that he couldn't go to Dallon's. “What?”

“My dad left." He repeated, and he looked himself like he hadn't yet let that settle in. "My mom is filing for divorce and a restraining order, Dallon. She promised. It's real this time. Like, she saw him and he couldn't lie about it and he’s moving out.”

“Oh my god.” Dallon hugged him and Ryan choked on a laugh, hugging him back tightly. He was trembling, probably having just left a bad situation again. Dallon had gotten used to rescuing him after those. “Oh my god. That’s...”

“I know. I’m so— I don’t even know. I don’t know how I’m feeling. I just needed to see you.” He pulled away, and there were tears in his eyes, one bruised and the other as perfect as it always was. “Can I come in? I wanna talk about it.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Come in.” He opened the door and closed it behind Ryan as he wandered into the apartment like he’d never been there before, feeling new somehow. Realizing he had just gained so much freedom. “I’m gonna get you some ice.”

“Okay. Thanks.” He peeped, heading into the living room without asking. Dallon returned only after a minute, holding a plastic bag of ice and a paper towel, already wet with the condensation.

“I couldn’t find the ice pack. I’m sorry. I’ll ask when my mom is out of the shower. And my dad should be home in like, ten minutes. Do you wanna talk to them too? Or like...”

“Yeah, no. It’s not, like. A secret or anything. I’ll wait for them." He agreed, making himself comfortable. "Uh. Can I get some water?”

“Yeah.” He nodded a bit too much, unsure of how to handle this. He wasn’t any good at it, even after all those years. Ryan thanked him, though, and Dallon’s eyes lingered on his bruises as he ducked back into the kitchen, taking a deep, deep breath.

* * *

“So he was kinda, like, choking me, almost.” Ryan explained to Dallon and his parents as he sat in the corner of the couch, holding a throw pillow tight with one arm and trying not to feel bad at the look of fear in Dallon’s eye as he held an ice pack to his own. He could never handle it when Ryan told him about this stuff. He wasn’t very good at keeping it together. “And I couldn’t breathe. But my mom came home from work early and caught him, and they got in this really big fight and she said she wanted a divorce. He said no so she threatened to get a restraining order, and like, he agreed to the divorce and said he wanted nothing to do with us anyway. So he grabbed his things and left. I don't know where he went but she said she was done with him. For good.”

“And your mom let you come here?” Dallon’s mother asked gently, sitting across from him on the table and trying to make sense of it all.

“I said I wanted to see Dallon and not be home for the night in case he came back. So. Uh. Do you think I could stay the night?” He asked, though they had become past asking long ago. He was nervous anyway, having experienced so much in the past few years that he had become accustomed to feeling anxious.

“Sure, honey.” Dallon’s mother cut in before Dallon could say yes. “I’ll go get you some extra blankets. I’m gonna get you some Neosporin for that cut, too.” She gestured to a little red slash on his face and he nodded gratefully, hugging the throw pillow tight. She took care of people. It was what she did.

Ryan laid curled up in Dallon’s bed that night as Dallon got back from putting two empty mugs of hot chocolate in the sink. His mother liked to pamper Ryan when he was there, never really in a pity way but more of a maternal way, seeing him sort of like one of her own. He had graduated from sleeping bags on the floor to sleeping in Dallon’s bed with him, finding more comfort in not being alone, and stole all the blankets whenever he was there. It was his safe place. The only place in the world he felt safe, actually.

“My mom wants to know if you want more blankets.” Dallon said quietly as he pushed his bedroom door with his socked foot, heading to his bed. Ryan shook his head, already ensconced in enough blankets, and Dallon only nodded before he joined him in bed.

“Thanks for letting me stay. And for being here. Not even just today, but, like. Every time.” He peeped, turning on his side to face Dallon as he settled down. “I’m glad I have your family even when I don’t have mine.”

“Yeah.” He made himself comfortable beside him, eyes soft, and felt his body heat as they shared a blanket. “I’m glad things are gonna get better from now on.”

Ryan nodded gently, his head against Dallon's pillow. “Yeah, I hope they do. I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest. Like I’m gonna be able to breathe in my own home.”

“I hope it all works out. And maybe your relationship with your mom will be better, and stuff.” He offered, because he didn't know quite what else to say.

“Yeah, maybe it will.” Ryan agreed, and their fingers intertwined slowly in between the two of them. “She apologized to me. For not believing me when I told her everything he did to me. I mean, it’s one thing not believing it if it’s once or twice, but it was most of my life, Dallon. How can I forgive her after she didn’t do what mothers are supposed to do? I mean, she didn’t take care of me. She didn't watch out for me or make sure that I was safe. He hurt me a million times and she brushed it under the rug. I was raped in that house. And she didn't do anything to help me. I don’t know how I’m supposed to forgive her.”

It was the first time Ryan had said it out loud and Dallon felt like he was going to cry, never really having materialized it before. He couldn't imagine how he felt. How he felt during any of it. With parents who didn't take care of him and constant fear.

“I don’t know.” Dallon said apologetically, because he didn’t. He’d never had to forgive his parents for anything. They didn’t do anything wrong. But deep down, he wondered if he would ever forgive them if he were in Ryan's place. “I think you just work at it, maybe. Cause she’ll get better once he’s not around. She was a victim too, right?”

Ryan nodded; he’d never really thought about it before. She was manipulated. In a way, she was hurt by him too. “Yeah. She was.” He agreed, and was silent for a moment as he shifted under the covers, going to lay up against Dallon. Using him as a pillow, practically, and Dallon said nothing, just shifted to wrap an arm around him. He protected him. That was what he did. “My dad used to say you were too girly to be friends with.” Ryan added quietly, and Dallon only tilted his head to look at him, sleepy after the day he’d had. “I know that’s stupid. I think it was the fact that you were an artist. Cause boys shouldn’t be artists. I didn’t really get it. I still don’t.”

“He never cared for me anyway.” Dallon brushed it off; he didn’t need his validation.

“I think he was jealous that your parents were more than he could ever be.” Ryan figured, and Dallon guessed that was true. Parents could be competitive sometimes. That could turn things ugly. “It just hit me, though. He’s never gonna love me.” He added quietly, and at that Dallon turned to look at him again. “I mean, I always thought one day a switch would flip and he would love me. Care about me. He’s not gonna. He’s never gonna.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Dallon refuted. “Your dad sucks. And you have actual good people who love you. That matters more than anything.”

“Yeah, it does.” Ryan agreed, and squeezed him tight as if to hug him. Dallon cared about him. Dallon’s family. That was all so much more important than the bad things. “Thank you for always being here for me. For saving me a million times. You’re the best best friend ever.”

“Of course.” Dallon whispered, hugging him back tight. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Ryan pulled away to look up at him, eyes soft like he were just now realizing how true that was. Dallon being there for him. Someone being there. “I’ll always be here for you too, Dal.”

* * *

"Hey." Ryan greeted quietly with a yawn as he found his brother sitting with his mom in the kitchen one morning, the house quieter than it had ever been. The divorce had been finalized and he hadn't yet got used to the sound of nothingness, his father's footsteps gone forever. He was adjusting, and he was happier than he had been in a really long time.

"Good morning." His mother greeted, setting a plate down across from where Ardan was sitting. Since his father had left, it was like a flip had switched. His mom loved him again, babied him and treated him like he were God's gift. He knew she was overcompensating for all the mistakes she had made for the past seven years; he just wasn't sure yet whether he wanted to forgive her for letting things get so bad. "You want juice or milk? I got chocolate milk for you at the store yesterday."

"I'm not thirsty. M'not hungry, either." He sat down at the table nonetheless; he'd been kind of giving her the cold shoulder for a while, seeing how far he could get before she had a problem with it. It wasn't going to be anytime soon.

She couldn't make up for it all with pancakes and chocolate milk.

"So, baby, I wanted to let you know..." His mom went to shut off the stove, shoveling pancakes on the plate in front of him despite what he'd said. He felt like she never listened. "I'm going to make an appointment with a therapist."

"I already go to therapy." He pointed out, confused, as he pushed the plate away from himself.

"I mean for family therapy. For you and me." She corrected, acting as if it wasn't a decision they should have made together. As if it wasn't forcing him to do something he didn't want to do like everyone always did.

"What? Why?"

"Because, baby." She sighed, and he was sick of her calling him that when she never treated him like her baby. "We obviously have problems. I know you're still upset with me and I think we need to talk about that. I just don't really know where to begin." She sat down at the head of the table, where his father used to sit. "Your dad is gone now. And Ardan is leaving for college this fall, and you're going to start high school, and I don't want us to have issues now that things should be getting better. So I'm going to make an appointment, and we're going to talk out our problems."

Family therapy. Family therapy. Who was she kidding? They were hardly a family.

He looked at Ardan, because he didn't have anything to say to her. "You sign off on this?"

Ardan shrugged, picking apart his pancake. "I don't care, I'm not the one who has to go." He shrugged, and Ryan looked between he and their mother, pissed off and upset and speechless. He didn't want to go. She couldn't make him go.

* * *

Ryan shifted uncomfortably as he sat on one end of a foreign blue couch, his mother on the other. He told her he didn't want to do this. He already went to therapy. He didn't need to go with his mother now, too. He didn't see what this was going to fix.

"I just feel like no matter what I do, he won't forgive me." His mother admitted as Dr. Chao jotted something down, taking notes on a family that Ryan couldn't even figure out. He only crossed his arms; she hit it right on the nose.

"Ryan, what do you think of that?" The woman asked, giving him the floor. It felt so back and forth. Like it was an argument rather than an attempt to solve a problem.

"I don't know." He shrugged. He knew how therapy worked: they asked questions and tried to dig into his mind. He knew. He just didn't like when people tried to understand him. "I mean, I think that I don't have to forgive her. She let him hurt me for a really long time. I'm still scared every time I hear footsteps. I don't want to forgive anybody who let that happen to me."

His mother was in tears and he avoided looking at her, because he didn't want to be manipulated any more than he had. "Okay." Dr. Chao wrote that down, and he wanted to roll his eyes but refrained. "So, Ryan. Your mother feels as though you two are disconnected. She wants to make amends, but it seems as though you're creating a barrier. Do you think this is true?"

"Yeah." He admitted; he wasn't going to deny it. He was creating a barrier. He thought he had a good reason to. "I mean, okay. I get that she was a victim too. We've talked all about that. He manipulated her. Love does weird things to people. But I'm her son. I'm her child. The way I see it, it doesn't matter what she's doing now. No one was protecting me when he did what he did. No one cared when he broke my arm or choked me or threw glass bottles at me. No one was protecting me when I was raped. So why do I have to forgive her when she couldn't be bothered to believe me then?"

Tears rolled down his mother's cheeks. "I know I messed up, and I'm sorry. But I want to make things right, baby."

"You can't— you can't make anything right. You can't unbreak my arm. You can't take back what happened to me." He said indignantly, arms still crossed as he stood his ground. "I don't wanna forgive someone I don't trust."

His mother stole a tissue from the box on the table and Dr. Chao looked between the two of them. "Ryan, do you trust anybody in your life right now?" She asked, taking a different approach as she realized he wasn't going to comply with the current one.

He nodded matter-of-factly. "My best friend and his parents. I always went to them whenever anything bad happened. I stayed with them for a while after it happened." He didn't like to throw the word around often. "They're my family. They're the people I know care about me."

"Ryan, I do care about you." His mother cried; he wouldn't humor her.

"So how do you feel about this?" Dr. Chao asked Ryan's mom, giving her a moment to calm down. "That Ryan feels as though another family is his own."

She sniffled, and Ryan focused on watching a fly stuck between the window and the screen, buzzing each time it bumped against the glass. He felt like that: a fly trapped between two places. Trying to break free but never really managing to find a way out. "I don't blame him." She said after a moment, and that got his attention. "I feel as though I failed him. He's my son and I didn't believe him when he told me his father was abusing him. I understand that he doesn't find it easy to forgive me. I just wish I knew how to make things right. I don't want him to resent me like he resents his father."

"I don't—" He started, but paused. "I don't resent you like I resent him. I don't resent him. I hate him." He looked over at his mom, pain in his eyes. "I don't hate you. I just wish you cared about me when it mattered."

She sniffled again and he felt bad for saying it, but that was what therapy was about. Telling the truth. "So, Ryan, you said your best friend's family has been more of one to you than your own." Dr. Chao recalled after a moment, and Ryan only nodded, playing with the drawstring of his hoodie. "What qualities do they possess that you think your mom can try to mend your relationship?"

"What do you mean?" He asked, unfocused only a bit.

"Well, the goal here is to help you two become less estranged. You're upset that your mother didn't provide the proper care during your abuse and she's upset that you haven't made an attempt to try and forgive her. I want you to look at the people you trust, the people you look up to, and pinpoint what you think may make you forgive your mom."

"Oh." He squirmed in his seat; he felt wrong talking about her when she was right there. It was awkward and weird and he didn't see the point. He didn't want her to beg. He wanted to forgive her on his own time. "I don't know. They took care of me when I needed someone to. They let me stay with them whenever I needed to and hugged me and let me eat whatever I wanted and told me they loved me. I feel at home when I'm with them. I never feel at home at my own house."

"I never feel at home there either." Ryan's mom admitted, and he turned to look at her, surprised.

She was a victim too. Dallon had said that once, but he never really took it into account until now. She was a victim. His father abused both of them. Cheated on her, yelled at her, lied and hurt her child as a way to hurt her. She just loved him, too blind to see his evil plan. She was a victim just as much as he was. It just seemed that he got the short end of the stick.

"Okay. Well, we're out of time for today, but I'm gonna make an appointment for next week. I think we've got plenty more to discuss here." She decided, marking it down on the calendar. "I'll see you two on Wednesday at four."

"Alright. Thank you, Dr. Chao." Ryan's mother shook her hand, grateful though she didn't realize what little progress they had made. Because as Ryan got up, he looked over at his mother and realized suddenly that maybe they both had a little bit of apologizing to do.

* * *

The glow of Dallon’s old digital clock illuminated only his side table as he laid alone in the dark, too tired and numb to move. It was a dull glow, an old clock, but then again time was old. It was something to grow sick of once you realized that it didn’t even really mean anything.

He heard footsteps in the hallway occasionally; his mother was doing a lot better than he was. For a while they had gotten caught up in a cycle of trying to be strong for the other, but he’d given up too soon. He didn’t know how to be strong. He didn’t want to have to be.

She didn’t expect him to. No one did. He didn’t know why he’d even tried.

After fifteen years, he could tell his father’s footsteps from his mother’s. There wasn’t any false hope when he heard her approach, light leaking in from the hallway.

“Hey, babe, Ryan is here.” She said gently from the doorway, staring at her son as he laid curled up in bed in the dark, as he had been for days now. He couldn't find it in him to get up. There wasn't any point.

“I’m not really up for visitors right now.” He replied dully, knowing damn well that Ryan didn’t count as a visitor.

“I’m gonna let him in.” She decided anyway, and he was too tired to fight.

He heard more footsteps, and then another pair, a smaller pair, ones still familiar because Dallon dedicated those kinds of things to memory. “Hey.” Ryan’s voice greeted quietly after a moment, and Dallon shifted to look at him wordlessly. It had been a few days since he’d seen him, though all of it just blended together. He didn’t even really know what day it was now. “Your mom said you could use some company. You look like it, too. What’s going on?”

“Oh, y’know.” He shrugged a shoulder, but didn’t finish his sentence because it wasn’t anything important. He shifted onto his elbow, every movement hurting. He guessed that bodies forgot how to work when they didn't have a reason to. When they had gone so long without movement, only focusing on breathing because that was the most important thing. When a body stopped breathing, that was when it became useless. “Why are you here? Why do you have a bag?”

“I’m staying here. To make sure you’re alright.” He told him like it were common sense.

Dallon sat up in bed, unsure whether or not he heard him right. “You have school.” He said instead of a real response, because he didn't understand.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll come back every day after class, though.” He promised, and Dallon only stared, astounded. He felt as though he had lost his voice. Like his throat just didn’t want to work. But Ryan didn’t need him to speak. He tended to make up his mind about things and stick to them.

Dallon sniffled when Ryan dropped his bag and went to crawl into bed with him, cuddling up close and not bothering to ask if it was okay. He knew where he stood. He could get away with pretty much anything. Dallon always let Ryan do whatever he wanted. “Are you sure?” Dallon asked, voice breaking from not having been used much the past few weeks.

“Uh-huh. I already made sure with my mom. I just wanna be here for you like you've been here for me.”

Dallon didn’t know what to say, and sat in silence as he stared at him. Ryan only made himself comfortable in a place he would stay for a while, placing a hand on Dallon’s back as if to pull him into a hug and letting him know he was there. Dallon knew. It was more apparent now than ever.

He was silent when tears filled his eyes, staring wordlessly at his best friend because he hadn’t been comforted yet. Just plain comforted by someone who wasn’t going through the same type of loss.

“You can cry.” Ryan reminded him, words he’d spoken at the wake and words that never wavered truth. Dallon took a shuddering breath, nodding, burying his face in his shoulder. He could cry. He had almost forgotten. “Hey. It’s gonna be okay. Things will be okay.” He wrapped his arms around him, and tears slipped silently down Dallon’s cheeks.

* * *

“It’s not like I don’t like him...”

“Ryan, every time anybody mentions Silo you get this bitchy look on your face.”

Ryan glared at Josh, because it was supposed to be unspoken, his aversion to anybody who Dallon liked to confide in. That had been his job before all of this, before things had changed and Ryan has stupidly let them. But it wasn’t like he had chosen for things to change— that had been Dallon’s doing. “Dallon is my best friend.” He defended himself, though it wasn’t really much of an argument.

“Green isn’t a good color on you, Ryan.” He returned, perfectly accusatory.

“Shut up. I’m not jealous.” Josh only bit his tongue in response. “I’m just— I don’t get it. He’s my best friend. He doesn’t need to stop telling me everything. He doesn’t need to find someone else to talk to. I mean, I don’t care if he has other friends. He can have other friends. He just... can’t have other best friends.”

Josh sighed in exasperation; for months, he had been getting in the middle of things. Whatever this situation was between them. “Ryan, he also has feelings for you. You can’t reject him and then expect things to be the same. That's not how it works. Especially not for someone as insecure as Dallon.”

“I didn’t reject him, Josh. Not really.” He refuted, but he did. He absolutely did. He told him he didn’t feel the same and regardless of anything else, that was a rejection. “I mean. I don’t see why things have to be different. I don’t want it to be. I’m willing to let things go if he is.”

“I don’t really think it’s just something to let go.” Josh figured, but what did he know? Dallon and Ryan had been friends their whole lives. They couldn’t just decide all of a sudden that they were going to let one little inconvenience like a crush drive them apart. “He likes you. You guys need to deal with that. And besides, Silo isn’t going to replace you. You guys have been through way too much.”

“Maybe that’s not a good thing.” Ryan admitted, biting on his thumb nail. He was nervous. Anxious. He had been for weeks, thinking about all of this. “I don’t know. I just miss him.”

“Well, things have changed.” He shrugged a shoulder, and Ryan gave him a look. He knew that. Of course things had changed. That didn’t mean he couldn’t miss him. “Ryan. You can’t be upset that Dallon feels awkward after telling you how he feels about you. That’s a really big deal. He’s, like, figuring things out. His dad just died. This is a shitty situation for him. Cut him some slack.”

“You make it sound like I’m mad at him. I’m not. I’m just not ready to be replaced.” He admitted prematurely, realizing how pathetic it sounded when he said it out loud. Being replaced. That was what this was, wasn’t it? Dallon hardly talked to him anymore. Not like a friend, anyway. All of it was just false assumptions and false hope. Ryan didn’t know what to do with that.

“I don’t think he’s trying to replace you.” Josh offered, but Ryan could hear it in his voice. The pity. All that stupid pity again, coming from everyone who felt bad for poor little Ryan. It wasn’t a big deal. It didn’t even really matter. He just missed Dallon. He missed having a best friend. That was all there was to it. “Dallon loves you, you know. I don’t think he wants to replace you.”

That might be the problem, Ryan thought, but what hurt more was the thought that he may have felt the same. “I’m scared to lose him.” He admitted, because he knew things weren’t going to end well.

“I don’t think you will.” Josh concluded, but in the end, Ryan wasn’t so sure.

* * *

Ryan’s brother was home for Thanksgiving, and things had changed a lot over the few months he’d been gone at school. Ryan was a freshman in high school, everything was new and he was unsure and that was the problem. Being unsure. Being sure of one thing, but that one thing being something that relied on something he didn’t even really know if he was sure of or not.

It was a messy situation. He didn’t expect anyone to get it.

“So, uh.” Ryan sat on the edge of Ardan’s bed the night before Thanksgiving after he’d driven up for the long weekend. He looked up from where he was unpacking, taking his chargers out of his suitcase, and Ryan added with obvious hesitance, “Would you judge me if I told you I had a friends with benefits kind of relationship with one of my friends?”

Ardan raised his eyebrows, intrigued. His little brother didn’t often have things to say about relationships. “Who is she?” He asked, not bothering to hide that he was asking for the drama.

Ryan shifted his weight, looking beyond his eyes. “...Dallon.” He admitted slowly, almost choking on the word.

Ardan stared at him incredulously for a moment, longer than a moment, or at least it felt like an eternity. It was understandable: no one saw it coming. “Dallon Dallon? Like, boy, gay Dallon?” He asked, at a loss for words.

“Well, he’s kind of the only Dallon that exists.” Ryan crossed his arms and shifted uncomfortably, already wishing he’d never said anything. He just needed someone to confide in, was all. He thought that could be someone who knew Dallon for as long as he did.

“Okay. Before we circle back to the fact that this is Dallon, you shouldn’t— you shouldn’t be in a friends with benefits anything with anyone. You’re too young.”

“We’re not doing anything but kissing.” He defended himself.

“Ryan, you’re only fifteen.”

“But I had to grow up so fast, Ardan!” He protested, but didn’t know why he was defending it. He knew it was wrong. He just didn’t want to let it go. Not yet. “You were kissing people at fifteen. You were having sex at sixteen. Why can’t I kiss one person without it being a big thing?!”

“Because he’s a he and he’s your best friend!” He retorted, and Ryan seemed to become smaller, hugging himself uncomfortably when he heard him say it. He knew he shouldn’t have told him. He knew it was a stupid idea. “Okay. That’s not what I meant. That sounded bad.” He put his hands up and Ryan felt like he was going to cry. “I don’t care that he’s a boy. You can like boys. That’s not a bad thing. I’m just shocked that the first person you’re doing anything with is a boy. I didn’t even know you liked boys. I-I mean, okay. First of all, Ry, what are you? Because you know I wouldn’t have a problem with any of it. If you’re gay, or bi, or whatever.”

“I’m not. I— I don’t like guys.” He rushed out too quick, feeling defensive all of a sudden. He didn’t like boys. He just liked Dallon. He could like a boy without having to commit to it.

Ardan looked skeptical. Judging him. Not for the choice itself, but for what Ryan thought of all of it. “Dallon is a really great guy, Ryan." He said after a moment, trying to be reassuring. "He’s your best friend. It would be cool if you liked him.”

“I can’t. I don’t even like boys. It’s just... him.” He squirmed, hearing the words and how sappy they were. He really wasn’t that kind of person. He didn’t get dumb crushes on people and feel butterflies and all that middle school stuff. He didn’t. So he didn’t know why he was now.

His brother folded his arms, half smiling when he caught on. “You got a crush on your best friend, huh?” He asked, only half teasing. Ryan had never liked anyone before. Not even when everyone else was starting to. This was a new thing. He didn’t like it much.

“Mhm.” He admitted feebly, feeling pathetic. He wasn’t supposed to like him back. Dallon was his friend. Dallon was a boy. “I’m not supposed to, though. I can’t like a guy. It’s just cause we’re already so close. It doesn’t, like. Mean anything.”

“Ryan, it’s okay if it does.”

“I don’t think it is.” He cried, but even then he couldn’t figure out why he was fighting it. He just knew it wouldn’t end well. He needed Dallon in his life. He had just gotten himself into a position where either way, he feared he was about to lose him. “I don’t know. I’m just— I’m scared this isn’t gonna end well. That we’ve gone too far to take any of it back.”

“Wait. Have you lost your virginity?” His brother asked, but stopped short on his words when he realized. Ryan shifted, looking away, down at his lap, and Ardan added quickly, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Ryan brushed it off, but obviously bristled away.

“I’m sorry, Ry. I forgot.”

“It’s fine.” He repeated a little too harshly: he hated the pity. The sympathy voice. The oh, I feel so bad for you. He didn’t want anybody to feel bad for him. Some things, you couldn’t take back. That was one of those things. One of these days he was going to have to make his peace with it. “Um. Not... no. I haven’t. Or, y’know. You know what I mean.”

“Not with Dallon.” He supplied, trying not to sound like he was babying him.

“Yeah. Not with Dallon.” Ryan agreed. Whatever they had done, whatever interaction they had, none of it was sex. “I’m not ready for that. Not anytime soon. But isn’t it enough that I’ve kissed him? He’s my best friend. This can’t end well.”

“It doesn’t have to not end well. You don’t have to avoid your feelings. I know that’s what you do, that’s your thing, but you can like him, Ryan. It’s not bad to like him.”

“It’s not that easy.” He looked away; it was hard to explain to people who didn’t get it. How difficult it was for him to open up and do the things that other people did. How scary it was to risk relationships like that. Dallon was his best friend. He didn’t want to like him. “I have homework. I’m gonna go.” He nodded his head toward the door and got up, keeping his gaze off his brother. He didn’t want to explain it. He was getting so tired of trying to figure out how.

“Okay, Ryan.” Ardan sighed, watching him go, but he didn’t bother stopping him.

* * *

Ryan’s mother walked by her younger son’s room with a laundry basket in hand when she stopped in place, hearing the sound of sobbing coming from behind the door. She only lingered for a second, listening with concern, before she knocked quietly, worried as it had been a while since she’d heard Ryan cry.

“Go away!” Ryan yelled, and she pushed open the door.

“Ryan.” She said quietly, and he rolled his eyes as he wiped tears off his cheeks.

“I said go away, mom.” His voice broke and he looked away from her, hiding the tears on his face. He hated when people saw him cry. He did it with the door closed for a reason.

“You know I’m not gonna do that.” She retorted, and he supposed he knew that well enough. “What’s going on, honey?”

He took in a shuddering breath and she went to sit beside him on his bed, abandoning her laundry basket in the hallway. “Dallon hates me.” He told her blatantly, wiping his face again as if it’d calm him down. He told himself he wasn’t going to cry about it. That he was going to be the bigger person and give Dallon time, because he knew that was what he needed. But Dallon was his best friend. That was hard. It was a hard thing to let go of.

“What do you mean Dallon hates you?” She asked gently.

“I mean that he said he didn’t wanna be friends anymore." He cried; what the hell else was it supposed to mean? "He’s different now, after— after his dad died, and I know I can’t blame him, but he got really mean, mom, and we’ve been fighting a lot over something really stupid and I want things to go back to the way things were before but they can’t. He won’t let them.”

“Oh, baby.” She sighed, and reached out cautiously to put a hand on his arm after second guessing herself once or twice. “Have you talked to him about it?”

“I tried. He doesn’t want anything to do with me. He just— I know he’s going through a lot and I’m trying to be there for him but he won’t let me. He’s mad at me and he stopped eating lunch with us and sitting with us in class.”

“Why is he mad at you?” She asked, and he wanted to say it, to say he’s in love with me, mom, and I might be in love with him too, and I’m too scared to admit it and he knows that and he respects himself too much to let me use him. The words died in his mouth, because he didn’t even know how he felt. It wouldn’t be fair to make assumptions about himself. Just in case.

“I don’t know.” He lied, because even after everything he found it impossible to say it. “He’s just been upset lately. I don’t blame him, but I just... I want my best friend back, mom. I want him to stop hating me. I want things to go back to normal.”

“Baby." She sighed, trying to be comforting though she and Ryan had hardly gotten to a place where he felt comfortable letting her. "He lost a parent. I can’t image what he’s going through right now. It takes a while to heal from that. Give him time.”

“I’m trying!” He insisted, almost choking on his words. “I miss him, mom. I miss him so much. He’s my best friend. Everything is ruined.”

“Honey.” She reached out to rub his shoulder, deeming it okay to touch him now. Still he bristled, but she knew her son. He knew her. “You know what it’s like to go through something hard. You needed time. So does he.”

He only cried, but said nothing in return because he didn’t want to argue. Dallon did need time. But why did he have to spend it hating Ryan so much?

“Can I be alone?” He asked, swiping tears off his face with cold fingers. She looked him over for a second before she nodded in response, pushing herself up to stand. In the end she knew he knew what was best for him. Ryan was hard to get through to.

“Sure, baby.” She kissed the top of his head and he went to tuck himself under his covers, avoiding the world around him.

He hated that. That the world kept spinning even when he wanted it to stop.

She closed the door behind herself and he took in a shuddering breath as his body shook with a sob.

I miss him. The words stung when he said them, because he knew he was the one that pushed Dallon away.

Ryan was going to the library to print a paper one day in the middle of the week when he stopped in his tracks, heart thrumming at the sight of him. It had been, what, a month since they’d talked? He barely knew him anymore. He barely remembered how to talk to him.

Were they even still friends?

Before he could tell himself not to, he walked slowly up to him, feeling the regret already deep in his stomach.

“Dallon. Hey.”

Dallon looked up from what he was doing, startled, but didn’t seem less surprised when he saw that it was Ryan standing in front of his table. “Ryan. Hi.” He greeted, closing his notebook over his pen as if shutting him out, because Ryan wasn’t part of his life anymore. They both knew that. Ryan was just having trouble accepting it. “Uh...”

“Oh, I was just. Uh. Printing a paper.” He nodded his head toward the computers, holding his notebook tight to his chest. He felt like he was going to pass out all of a sudden. Like he was hot all over, and anxious, and worried about saying something wrong. “I saw you, and you were alone, and I just thought—“ He stopped, realizing he was about to start rambling like he did when he was nervous. He didn’t know when speaking to Dallon has become so nerve-wracking. “Anyway. Hi.”

“Hi.” He repeated, clearly unnerved, looking between Ryan and his notebook as if debating which was more important. Ryan knew it wasn’t him. Knew that his former best friend wanted nothing to do with him, that he would rather do anything other than talk to him, but Dallon was still his best friend. Even if he wasn’t Dallon’s.

“How are you?” He asked, and it was a stupid question.

“Fine. How are you?” Dallon asked in return, just trying to be polite. Ryan didn’t want him to be polite. He wanted him to be his best friend again.

“I’m... okay.” He hesitated to say it because he knew it was a lie. Dallon knew it too. He’d known Ryan a long time. He knew when he was lying. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while. I miss you.” He tried, knowing that it was risky. Did Dallon miss him too? Was he trying to fix something that was too irreparable?

Dallon was silent for a minute, staring up at him. Ryan wished he could read his mind. Or that Dallon would give up on his grudge and let him back in his life and that they could be best friends again. He missed having him to tell everything to. He missed everything about him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I miss you too.” Dallon agreed after a long silence, but it sounded more like a formality than anything sincere.

Still, the words made Ryan smile, and he knew he was grasping at straws. He knew.

* * *

“Okay. Hm.” Elizabeth turned to look at Ryan from his bedroom window, observing the photos on his wall and folding her arms over her chest. Trying to draw attention to her body and herself because that girl, she liked attention. Ryan liked that she liked attention. “Tell me your deepest, darkest secret.”

Ryan let out a laugh and crossed his arms too, leaning against the wall as he sat idly on his bed. She was hopefully ambitious; he’d give her that. Trying to get to know him after he'd proven over the past few weeks that that wasn't an easy thing to do. “As if I’m gonna tell you that.” He argued, but in reality he felt sick thinking about it. He didn’t want to tell her. He didn’t ever really want to tell anybody. Did it count as a secret? “What’s yours?”

“Tit for tat, mister.” She pointed a finger at him and he smiled, but said nothing as she looked around his room. He liked her. He liked her a lot. “I like these pictures.” She pointed to a few of his photos and he squinted at them, having skipped his appointment at the eye doctor’s last week because he just wasn’t feeling it.

“Oh, yeah.” He seemed to slump down in his place when he realized. “Uh. My best friend is an artist. He takes a lot of good photos.” He started wringing his hands in his lap. Was Dallon still his best friend? He didn’t even really know what to call him. He wasn’t an ex. He wasn’t much of a friend anymore, either. But he could never find it in him to get rid of all the things Dallon had given him.

He was everywhere. All over his walls and his Instagram page and on the stupid little handmade magnets on his fridge and everything. He wanted Dallon to be everywhere. He wanted him to forgive him so they could be best friends again.

“The one that’s never around.” She commented, because it was a running observation. He and Elizabeth started talking when he and Dallon were in the middle of a war. But just because Dallon wasn’t his friend didn’t mean he still wasn’t Dallon’s.

“Yeah. Uh. That’s kind of a long story.” He said awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. She looked at him like she wanted answers, but he couldn’t blame her. He knew the difficulty of getting to know someone at the beginning of a relationship. That they wanted to know things even when the other wasn’t ready to tell.

“You ever gonna tell me the long story? I mean, I’ve got time.” She gestured around his room, half smiling, before she took a seat on the edge of his bed.

“It’s stupid. We’re just in a dumb fight.” He brushed it off, not wanting to get into it.

She looked intrigued; he figured girls always wanted to know everything about the boys they just started dating. “What about?”

“Something stupid that doesn’t matter. He went through a lot and I wasn’t there for him in the way that he needed me to be and he resents me for it. And I still never did anything to make it better. Cause I didn’t know how. Or I didn’t want to admit I was wrong. I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“It’s complicated, is how it really sounds.” She pointed out, yet another observation.

“That too.” He agreed, and she smiled at him as she reached out to put a hand on his knee.

“He’s crazy if he’s gonna stop being friends with you over something dumb. You’re awesome.” She flirted, leaning in just the slightest.

“You’re biased.” He returned, smiling back. She kissed him, and he knew it was dumb, but when their lips brushed, he wondered if he’d made a mistake.

Dallon used to kiss me like this, he thought, and tried to shake that away quick. They were never together. They were never in love. So why did he feel the way he did even after all this time?

“You wanna watch a movie or something?” Ryan asked, trying to get his mind off of things, and she nodded in agreement, getting up to adjust her clothes. She liked attention. Dallon never did. "Hey." He added, and she turned to look at him again, eyes wide and willing. "Do you wanna be my girlfriend?"

She smiled, nodding, and it didn't seem as if she even needed to think about it. Not everything had to be complicated. "It's about time you ask me." She laughed, and sat right back down to kiss him again.

Her lips were different than the ones he knew better.

Not everything had to be complicated.

* * *

It was the first day of junior year, following a lonely summer where Ryan had a lot of time to think. He didn’t want to spend so much time dwelling on someone he never even dated. Dallon had been his best friend for years, okay, but people drifted apart. He had to justify it. Friends weren’t always meant to stay together.

Until Dallon apologized for real, and Ryan felt so stupid happy that he couldn’t help the butterflies.

“Guess what.” He grinned at his mother as he raced in after school, overly enthusiastic, bouncing on his toes. She opened her mouth to say something but he interrupted, too excited to actually let her guess. “Dallon apologized today. He wants to be friends again.”

She looked skeptical but he was just happy, smiling and rocking on his feet like a child. “This sounds like deja vu.” She said, trying the best she could not to sound hurtful.

“No, mom. This was serious. This was different. He meant it.” He insisted, replaying it in his head. He'd been replaying it in his head since that morning. It was an apology. A real apology. “Like. He hugged us and begged for forgiveness and he was smiling his actual smile. Not that fake smile he always did. I think it’s gonna be different this time. He seems like he really wants it to be.”

“That’s really good, Ryan.” She reached out for him so he humored her, letting her envelope him in a hug. “So this will be a good year then, huh?”

“I hope so.” He smiled, pulling away to look at her. Dallon. His Dallon. He was back. It felt like way too much time had passed since they’d lost each other.

“Oh, this is Coke.”

“This is Dr. Pepper. Switch.” Ryan handed Dallon his drink and Dallon did the same, falling easily back into a steady rhythm with one another like no time had passed at all. They sat across from each other at Ryan’s favorite restaurant, trying to ease back into them, having planned a not-date at the end of the week to catch up after ignoring each other's calls and recently unblocking each other from social media. “I missed you a lot, Dallon.” He added after a second, because he couldn’t contain it. He missed him so, so much, it hurt. “Nothing was the same without you.”

“I missed you a lot too.” He admitted, and Ryan had actually been wondering for days. Whether he really missed him or just got tired of holding a grudge. “I don't know why I was being so insistent on not having you around. My life is so much better with you in it."

Ryan sighed, happy. "I feel the same way." He told him, because even though he'd tried to shut him out since Dallon had done so with him, he never really let himself. He didn't want to stop being friends. Even after everything that happened. Sometimes the good just surpassed the bad.

Dallon smiled, trying so hard to make amends. "So. What’s new? What have I missed?”

“Um, a lot.” Ryan admitted. Had it really been that long since they’d spoken? He felt like there was so much to talk about now that he had his best friend back. Things that didn’t matter, and so many things that did. “Let’s see. Juliette got braces; she’s pissed about it. Ardan got a girlfriend who is way out of his league, I legit think she’s a model.” Dallon laughed, biting the end of his straw aimlessly as he remembered the family he hadn’t seen in so long. “Oh. Uh. I had sex. For the first time since...”

Dallon sat back in his seat, surprised to hear it. He knew he had no interest in it for a while, but he guessed he did miss out on a lot while he was gone. “Oh. Wow, Ry. When?”

“A few months ago.” He nodded aimlessly to himself without reason, looking down at his food. He really wanted to talk to Dallon at the time. He just didn’t know how to reach out. If he was going to handle it well or if he was going to say something stupid that Ryan would never forgive him for. It just seemed easier to bottle it up and not tell him for a while.

“How were you with it? Are you okay? Or, I mean, were you?”

“Yeah, no, I was alright. I mean, it happened, and I wanted to get it over with, and I did, so. If anything, now I know.” He shrugged a shoulder, seeming to not want to talk about it. It wasn’t really anything to talk about. Dallon knew how he was on the topic. “Anyway. What’s new with you?”

“Uh, nothing, really. My mom and I talked, though, and I think things are gonna be better. I’m going back on my meds and I’m really gonna try this time. I’ve just kinda been, y’know. Trying to make amends. And I’m never going to stop apologizing to you.”

“I’m just glad I have my best friend back." He told him honestly; he didn't need a million apologies. He only needed one, and Dallon had already given it. "I missed talking to you. Josh is great and all, but nothing is better than this.”

“Yeah, I missed it too.” He bumped his fist against Ryan’s, trying not to get all sentimental about it. Things were said. Things were done. He couldn’t take the bad things back, so he wanted to make up for them with good things instead. “I was so caught up in my own drama I didn’t think about how it affected you. I know I should’ve cared more. And I’m gonna. I’m gonna be better from now on.”

“I know you will.” Ryan promised. He really, really believed that. He wasn’t going to spend any more time doubting Dallon. “Anything else new?” He changed the subject, trying to avoid talking about things they didn’t need to dwell on.

“Nope. Not really. I was preoccupied with pitying myself for the last few years. I didn’t have any time to have anything going on. Anything relevant, anyway.” He bit at his straw again, something of a bad habit. Had it really been that long since he’d started his pity party? “I guess there’s too much but not enough to tell you. I missed so much when I was being selfish, I feel like we’re out of step. It’s gonna take a sec to get back into this.”

“But we’ll get there.” Ryan offered hopefully; he really wanted to. To move past everything that had hurt them and get to a point where it was like it never happened. He wasn’t sure yet if it was possible, but he was willing to try anything. “Just. Do me a favor. Let’s never, ever let anything else come between us. Please.”

“Yes.” Dallon stuck out his pinky and they linked them together, fitting perfectly like they were made to make promises. “I promise.”

* * *

Ryan shook out his anxious energy through his hands as Dallon closed the bathroom door behind them. He felt like he was going to be sick and he swore he’d never lie to Dallon but he wasn’t even really sure if he’d been lying, just blindsided, or whatever it was, he felt like he’d betrayed him. Dallon leaned against the door but pushed himself off when he saw the look on Ryan’s face, going to envelope him in a hug.

“I’m sorry.” Ryan apologized against his shoulder, seeming frantic and in distress.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Dallon assured him, holding him tight against him as Ryan seemed to shrink. “C’mon. We're okay. It’s okay.”

“No it’s not.” Ryan insisted, his grip hard on the back of Dallon’s neck. “I never wanted to do this to you. I didn’t want to bring this back up. I mean, it was shitty for both of us, that whole thing, it basically ruined our friendship, and I know I should have told you. I just didn’t want you to be mad, and-“

“Wait. Hey. I’m not mad, Ry. That was years ago. I was stupid. I’m not who I was. I’m not mad." He promised; he hadn't realized how badly he had scarred him, that he feared telling him anything that could hurt them. He never wanted to give him that impression. "But... wait. Okay. I just have to ask.” He pulled away, eyes watching big, scared brown ones. “Did you know this whole time? Or...”

“See, that’s complicated. Cause I kind of did, but I kind of didn’t. Hear me out.” He held Dallon’s arms, as if he were scared that he would run. He wouldn’t. Dallon wanted answers as much as Ryan wanted to give them. “I kind of thought I was back then, but I didn't know. And I still like girls, so I always thought it was just a weird thing. Like it was just specifically you. Because it was for a really, really long time. I never entertained liking any other guy. Until now, because I’m feeling things for this guy, and I literally just realized it. Like, a week ago realized it. I always denied liking boys because, like, you know how I grew up. There was so much homophobia in my house. I was conditioned to be scared.”

“I don’t blame you,” Dallon offered quietly, unsure of what to do with all of this.

“It’s so confusing. Liking you was so confusing. And I was so scared to like you so I didn’t let myself and I know that’s what ruined our friendship and I’m sorry. I feel terrible. I led you on and lied to you and ruined everything and I’m sorry.”

“But I get it.” Dallon assured him, surprised at his own words because even a year ago he would have been pissed, but now he understood. “I didn’t then, but I do now. Being scared. You had so many reasons to wanna hide who you were. I don’t blame you anymore. I shouldn’t have ever blamed you in the first place.”

“No, you should have.” Ryan argued; he knew deep down since the beginning how he felt. He was just scared. He just played with Dallon's feelings for the fun of it. “You were right to. I was a terrible friend. And I need to apologize. For everything. I mean, I— I should have been more considerate. I should have tried to talk it out with you. Instead I just led you on and got mad at you for thinking I liked you back when I never gave you any indication that I didn't. And now I know that I was wrong. And I was a really shitty friend when everything was happening. I mean, I said once that you should come out at school so you would have a chance to date someone and I never apologized for that. I’m sorry. I know it’s scary. I’m scared.”

“No, hey, it’s okay. Water under the bridge. I... I was really mean to you. I was a bad friend. You said some shitty things but so did I.” He pulled Ryan into a hug again, realizing he was shaking. Dallon knew how scary it was. Coming out. Realizing who you were after years of doubt. Especially with a father like Ryan’s and all of the hatred he had instilled into his son.

“I was a really bad friend, Dallon. I’m sorry.” He whispered into his shoulder, holding onto him like he was scared it would be the last time. “I shouldn’t have led you on when I was in denial. I should have just trusted you.”

“It’s okay. It’s history. It’s not who we are now.” Dallon promised, willing to forget it all if Ryan did. The past didn’t flatter anybody. Lately he’d been learning to let things go. “Ryan. It took me months after I came out to realize that I was actually gay. It took me years of wondering to come to terms with it. I could never be mad at you for not knowing. Or for being scared. Everyone’s scared to be different at fourteen. Especially people who have gone through so much shit like you have. Don’t apologize. I’m proud of you.”

“I’m proud of me too.” Ryan peeped, squishing his cheek against Dallon’s shoulder. “And I’m proud of you, too. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Dallon whispered, holding him close in some restaurant bathroom as their friends sat just beyond the door, his boyfriend clueless and no one saying a word.

Dallon closed his eyes, not wanting to let go, and they didn’t say a word either.


	51. Chapter 50: Prettier Than the Reality (The Ideal)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's smut in this proceed with caution

Brendon tapped the textbook page aimlessly until Ryan swatted at his pencil with his pen before he had even realized he was doing it. He proposed a sword fight, disregarding his astronomy homework because it was kind of boring anyway, and leaned back on Dallon’s bed as Dallon himself did his physics homework on the floor, occasionally clicking on his calculator but otherwise sitting in silence as Ryan and Brendon exchanged notes.

“Ryan, what’s the formula for force?” Dallon asked suddenly, flipping a few pages in his notebook.

Ryan barely looked up from he and Brendon’s shared textbook. “Mass times acceleration. Newtons.”

“Thank you.” He scribbled it down just as his phone started buzzing on the side table, and he huffed to himself, barely able to jot down the note before he sat up with a sigh. “Can you grab me my phone, babe?”

“Yes, dear.” Ryan reached out to grab it off the charger, he was closer, and Dallon rolled his eyes but said nothing as Brendon giggled and Dallon accepted his phone. “It’s an unknown number.”

“Huh.” He looked at them to be quiet before he accepted the call and started to chew on his thumbnail, staring down at the floor. “Hello? Yeah, this is Dallon... oh. Okay. Yeah. I did... oh, wow. Thank you. That’s amazing. Thank you so much.... yeah. Yeah, I can meet with you whenever. I get out of school at two thirty.” He flipped the page in his notebook to a blank one and scribbled what looked like an address in the center. “That works. Thank you so much. You too. Bye.”

Brendon perked up when Dallon set his phone down on the notebook, eyes wide. “What?”

“Oh my god.” Dallon rested his hand to his heart in disbelief. “Oh my god, you guys.” He got up, leaving his things on the floor. “Um, these art executives visited the school a few days ago and they saw the mural and I guess they looked at my portfolio through my art teacher because they were really impressed. They just called to tell me that they love my stuff and I’m really talented for my age and they wanna give me my own section in an art gallery viewing this month.”

Brendon gasped and pulled him into a hug when Dallon laughed, shocked. “Oh my god, Dal, that’s amazing!”

“Dallon!” Ryan joined the hug and Dallon laughed again as he buried his face in between the two of them. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” He breathed out in shock. It had been a long time coming but he hadn’t been expecting it. He’d told Brendon once upon a time that his dream was to have his art in a gallery, loved the idea of people viewing his art on their own volition, judging each development of entity. Being analyzed. Brendon had been judged for years and he still didn’t see the appeal but to Dallon, it meant more. It meant he was worthy. “I’m meeting them next week after school to show them some stuff and pick out ten things I wanna put up. Right now they’re cultivating the entire gallery with new art and there’s gonna be a gallery opening on the twenty sixth. They’re gonna showcase a bunch of stuff from like, new young artists, and it’ll be up for a few months. And apparently I’m a new young artist.”

“I’m so proud of you.” Brendon put a hand on his shoulder, smiling wide despite Dallon’s apprehension, never having been able to just admire himself for his achievements opposed to thinking about the failures.

“I just have so much to do. I have to name everything and choose out a bunch of stuff that I want people to see, probably a mix of traditional and photography, and I want everything to have some sort of meaning. Or maybe I should theme it.”

“Dallon, you’ll get it done,” Brendon promised, because even though he didn’t know much about art he knew that Dallon was good at what he did.

“Brendon’s right. Don’t stress out about it, don’t overthink it. This is a good thing.” Ryan added. Dallon looked up reluctantly, taking a deep breath? wanting to believe it despite it being so easy not to. People were going to judge him, but maybe that wasn’t entirely a good thing. He wanted to keep living in his bubble where everybody around him praised him. He didn’t know what to do with criticism.

“Thank you.” He hugged him nonetheless and Ryan nodded, knew how he got when he was worried. “I just don’t wanna fuck it up. It’s so easy to fuck it up.”

“You're just good at overthinking until you fuck things up.” Ryan pointed out, and Dallon pulled away, furrowing his eyebrows in a pout because he wanted support, not the truth. “What? It’s true. You’re good at a lot of things, Dal, but you overthink everything. It’s not completely your fault, you just have to breathe and let everything take its course. You’ve wanted this your whole life. It came out of nowhere. It’s surprising but it’s not a bad thing.”

“He’s right, you know.” Brendon wrapped both arms around his neck and pressed his lips to his temple, barely holding back his proud smile. “Just be glad this is happening. It’s not every day that you get randomly invited to be a part of a gallery opening because you’re just that talented.”

Dallon tilted his head up to smile at him, grateful because he was right. He wasn’t going to self-sabotage this. He opened his mouth to thank him but his mother knocked on the doorframe, holding a basket of laundry and smiling at the three when she caught their attention. “Hey, I didn’t even know you guys were here. You’re so quiet. What’s going on?”

“I got invited to have my work up in a gallery.” Dallon told her, tightening his grip on Brendon’s arm though he hadn’t meant to.

“Oh, Dals, that’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.” She smiled in that proud mother way and he grinned, proud of himself too. He wasn’t often proud of himself. It felt good to be for once. “Give me all the details at dinner, I’m gonna start it now. I wanna hear all about it. I assume you’re both staying?” She looked between Ryan and Brendon and they both nodded, so she nodded back but let her gaze linger on a smiling Dallon, and she was prouder than she let on.

After school the next day Dallon sat on his bedroom floor, opposite Brendon above a pile of art, scribbling down names and trying not to rush it though there was a deadline. He had grown exhausted quickly, though, jotting down new ideas and sneaking his sketchbook in class because sometimes he had these random strikes of inspiration.

Brendon rushed down the hallway on Friday like a child playing tag while Dallon closed the front door behind him, body tired and tense after having been planning and stressing all week. “I,” Brendon dropped his bag, “am so ready...” He pulled his jeans down and his shirt off in record time, “for the weekend. Sweatpants?”

“Bottom drawer.” Dallon offered, gesturing toward the dresser while he kicked his bedroom door shut. In only his boxers, Brendon hurried to the dresser to find a pair of old sweatpants and pull them on, long past his feet though he didn’t care. He crawled into Dallon’s bed, the covers warm and alluring. Dallon turned to watch him burrow underneath them, debating whether or not to join but deciding against it. “I’m gonna do some art.”

“Okay. I’ll be here, cuddling nothing but my nonexistent will to live.” He tried to guilt him into joining him, but he knew how this worked. In five days Dallon was supposed to give the gallery ten pieces of art, pieces he hadn’t yet picked, and nothing felt right. He hadn’t said it, but it was almost as if he were remaking his entire portfolio. Brendon didn’t mention it. Just let him go through his process.

“You can’t cuddle it if it doesn’t exist.” Dallon plopped down on the floor beside the bed and flashed a grin up at a pouting Brendon.

Brendon stuck his tongue out and resorted to laying alone in Dallon’s bed, in limbo between too tired to do anything and not tired enough to nap. Eventually the internet got boring, lingering half asleep for no reason got boring, and his curiosity got the better of him. Dallon had been sitting on the floor for the past forty-five minutes, painting something messily, and Brendon peeked up over the mountain of blankets to squint at him. “Whatcha doin’?”

Dallon looked up at him and gestured to whatever was on the floor in front of him. Brendon couldn’t see it so he quirked an eyebrow before Dallon gave up and said, “Come see.”

With a noise of acknowledgment Brendon dropped his phone onto the sheets of the bed, rubbing his eyes and climbing out of bed to join Dallon on the floor. Dallon pushed himself up to sit and gestured to what he was working on, random slashes of paint on a medium sized canvas.

He pointed at the random strokes of color and asked dumbly, “Is it supposed to mean something?”

“Yeah. So, last night I was online and I was reading this weird post about arousal and how these people are turned on by these different cultural things. Intellectual things. And so I was doing some searching in my psyche, and I realized something about myself, and I wanted to get it out on a canvas. So it’s just kind of a free form painting about what I’m, y’know, attracted to.”

Brendon glanced up at him, confused. “And that is...?”

“Freedom of expression.” Dallon told him matter-of-factly.

Brendon furrowed his eyebrows, looking between Dallon and the art because he didn’t exactly get it. What was that supposed to mean? What was he supposed to do with that? “What?”

Wordlessly Dallon reached down to dip his index finger into a dollop of blue paint that had been sitting on his palette. Brown eyes watched, unmoving, as he held the finger out a little ways away from his person, letting it slide down his finger and drip onto the wood floor below. Quietly, in a voice that made chills run down Brendon’s spine, he whispered, “There’s nothing hotter than the act of creativity.”

Brendon swallowed, eyes flickering down to the paint on the floor, to Dallon’s bare chest, to his lips, where they lingered. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s intimate, the way you let your mind open up so it can pour out into art. I’m attracted to creativity and the creative process.” He inched closer, and Brendon looked from his lips to his eyes, shocked to see him sizing him up. “Doesn’t it turn you on, the way someone can just go so deep into their own head that they’re able to pull something so unique and unrefined out of it?”

Brendon shifted uncomfortably in place. “I guess.”

Dallon smirked sinisterly. “Don't refrain, Bren. What’s on your mind?”

Who was he to keep his thoughts from the boy that could read him like a book? By now it was easy, easier than it had been. “I wish I could be an artist. Everything you create is so incredible, you could paint the world and it would thank you. That’s what I’m always thinking, Dal.” He admitted, playing aimlessly with his hands because he didn’t know how to compliment. “That you’re gonna change everything one day. So many people say they want to make a change. You’re gonna be one of the few to do it. You’re a modern-day Midas. Everything you touch turns to art.”

Dallon’s cheeks pinked and he smiled, watching Brendon watch him. He was heartbreakingly beautiful, the hairline curve of his lips and the dip of his skin where the dimple in his cheek was, his pale winter flesh and the iridescent crystal blue in his eyes. In a voice so quiescent Brendon had to strain to hear, Dallon said, “You may not be an artist, but you can be art.”

Slowly, he reached out to drag his paint covered finger down Brendon’s chest. His breathing hitched and he shifted his hips again as Dallon reached out with the same finger to swipe it in the pink paint. Bringing it up to Brendon’s bare chest, he drew a heart right where it should be, and Brendon whispered, “Explain to me the creative process.”

Dallon looked up in amusement, staring Brendon down as he got more paint on his fingers, a seafoam green, and placed them on Brendon’s shoulders to drag them down his body, leaving ten clean stripes. “In art, there are five steps to the creative process. The first one is to plan and to practice.” He twisted his body to grab a couple more tubes of paint from the box, quiet for a minute while Brendon watched. Twisting tops off, leaving some on his palette. He had enough, anyway. He dipped his fingers in all different colors, making a mess though he and Brendon were so good at that already. “Step two is to begin to create.”

He slid his hands down Brendon’s body sensually, slowly, coating him in variegated shades of acrylic. Brendon’s eyes slipped shut and he let out a hushed, breathy, “God.”

“Look at me.” Dallon whispered, using his index finger knuckle to lift Brendon’s chin, carefully meeting his eyes. And as Brendon swallowed Dallon leaned forward slowly, lips parted and eyes half lidded, and inches away from bitten lips he pulled away to coat his fingers once more, leaving Brendon restless.

He laid his hands flat on Brendon’s chest and dragged them down to completely cover the front of his torso, spreading green and blue and gray across his stomach. Brendon watched him speechlessly, didn’t know what to say, but didn’t want to say no. Dallon’s hands continued down, past his navel, his v-line, to the hem of stolen sweatpants. Brendon nodded, lifting his hips in compliance, watching Dallon strip him bare because somehow, he always managed to do it anyway.

He squeezed his thighs together awkwardly, not daring to meet Dallon’s eyes, instead watching hands gather more colors until he dipped a hand in between his thighs, guiding them apart with a tight grip and leaving fingertip shaped, hot pink marks on his skin. He gnawed at his bottom lip, watching Dallon start to rub at the skin on his thighs.

“The third step is to revise.” Scooping up more paint, he reached out to swipe it over Brendon’s chest again, letting them linger when he subconsciously pushed against him. Brendon let out a needy breath, knew what he wanted after months of neglecting it, but Dallon took Brendon’s hands in his own and dipped them into the excess paint, cold and wet on his skin. “To re-work. To improve.”

Brendon nodded slowly while Dallon guided Brendon’s hands to his own bare chest, to embellish pristine flesh with dark crimsons and ethereal blues. He placed both palms cautiously on Dallon’s skin, leaving two handprints in their wake, and dragged them down to leave two rainbow trails. Brendon was breathing heavy, he hadn’t even noticed, but this meant something, it had to, foreplay, some kink, he didn’t know. But Dallon smiled at him, as if telling him he did a good job.

Brendon was already shaking with want and Dallon could see it, because he leaned forward to nip at Brendon’s earlobe, smiling sinuously and leaving Brendon a mess. “See? Isn’t expression of creativity so arousing?” He asked in a whisper. Brendon nodded vigorously, desperate, and Dallon pulled away with a smirk as he began to stand. “Step four is to add the finishing touches.”

Slowly and with teasing fingers, he tugged at the waistband of his pants and stared a speechless Brendon in the eye as he tugged them down, letting them fall to the floor as he cocked a hip and let him look. Enticing him, teasing him, showing him what he couldn’t have. Brendon covered his lap in embarrassment, there was no way paint was turning him on, and Dallon walked around his bed to retrieve something from the side table drawer.

He returned with a condom and a bottle of lube, and it didn’t surprise Brendon but the temerity still took him aback. This had never happened this way, they’d always talked about anything before they did it, made sure they both wanted it and planned ahead, sort of. And now Brendon was sitting here, desperate and hard and not knowing what to say, but after months of thinking he just wanted someone else to take the reins. He wanted Dallon to surprise him.

Dallon kneeled in front of him, moving the paint palette within both of their reach and sitting up on his knees. Speechless and confused, Brendon did the same when Dallon gestured for him to. And they had gotten so good at no words, because Brendon just as easily followed his movements, got some paint in his hands and let Dallon guide him.

Dallon wrapped both arms around him and smeared paint all over his back, making Brendon gasp. “And the fifth step is to share and reflect.” Dallon’s lips met Brendon’s hard before he could say a word. Brendon pushed back, his mouth bruising against Dallon’s, letting thin lips absorb a moan as he pressed against Dallon’s thigh with need.

Instinctively his hands flew to his shoulders to splatter paint all over, but he recoiled in surprise. Dallon laughed, Brendon was a mess in more ways than one, and slid both hands down his back. Brendon gasped, and Dallon sapped a kiss from his open mouth, giggling when he bucked his hips up against Dallon’s. Replacing bad memories with good ones: that was what this was. Paint splattered kisses, not unconsenting hands.

Brendon squirmed, rutting his hips up in desperate movements, breathing heavy when Dallon moved away to wipe his hands on the towel by the paint box and grab the condom from the floor. He watched as he went to tear it open, but against his better judgment he reached out to grab his wrist, shaking his head, dead serious. Dallon looked up to meet his eyes, and Brendon insisted, “We don’t need it.”

Dallon blinked. “Um, yes we do?”

“No. We were tested, we’re both clean. I wanna try this. Just once.” He coerced Dallon into another kiss, one slightly more hesitant and shorter. “Please, baby, I wanna feel you inside of me. All of you. Just this once. Please.”

He kissed him again, eyes wide, and maybe it was stupid, unsafe, bold, yes, but Brendon didn’t care. He earned the right to be stupid and bold months ago when some stranger had stolen his innocence. Dallon pulled away, looked hesitant because he swore he’d always be safe, but then again they had taken all the precautions.

“Bren, this might not be a good idea.” He lamented, playing it safe just in case.

“Come on, Dal, what’s the worst that could happen? You’re totally clean, and so am I, and, like. You’re not gonna get me pregnant.”

“That sounds like a challenge.” He quirked a brow and Brendon smiled, ran a hand down his arm because he was ready. He was ready, and he needed this. “Are you sure, Bren?”

“Yes.”

“Brendon, it’s been months. We’ve only done it once. We haven’t done anything even remotely sexual since before...” He paused, but Brendon knew, didn’t have to hear him say it. And maybe he was scared deep down, or didn’t know if he would ever want to let another man touch him ever again, but this was Dallon, and this was him, and he missed this. He needed intimacy, and feeling safe again, and Dallon’s body in his, connecting, getting rid of bad feelings like old spirits that weren’t welcome anymore.

“I know, but I’m ready. I wanna do it. I promise I won’t freak out this time.” Brendon pulled him closer by the sides of his neck and stole another kiss from his lips. “Seriously. If you don’t fuck me right now I’m going home to do it myself.”

“Okay.” Dallon laughed. And it was enough, it had to be, because Brendon kissed him again and Dallon made a quiet noise into Brendon’s mouth, but pulled away to grab the bottle of lube, squirting some into the palm of his hand and making Brendon’s heart pound.

He guided Brendon to lay on his back, a color coated hand flat against his chest. Brendon was smiling in anticipation when Dallon nudged his knee with his own, getting him to spread his legs wordlessly. Dallon sat in between them, adjusting his hand, and Brendon shifted his hips while Dallon slipped a long finger into him without much resistance.

Brendon moaned breathily as Dallon worked him slowly, getting to reacquaint himself with the bundle of nerves inside of him when his muscles clenched around him. Dallon went slow for a minute, trying to ease him back into this, whispered sweet words against Brendon’s knee, pressing kisses to it gently as he thrusted two fingers into him slow, making Brendon shake.

Brendon pushed back against Dallon’s fingers, he had thought about this for months and danced around it and now he was just fucking ready, but Dallon moved his fingers slowly, curling them, working them in circles, and Brendon groaned, “Dallon.”

Dallon planted another kiss on his knee and pulled his fingers out, leaving him empty and burning with need right where Dallon’s fingers had been. He chased him, whimpering at the loss, but Dallon leaned down to catch frowning lips in a kiss as he pressed their paint covered stomachs together, lining his head against Brendon’s stretched entrance and swallowing thickly. “You ready?” He asked, and Brendon couldn’t nod faster.

“Yes, fuck, please.” He begged. Dallon laughed, a sinister little sound that made Brendon desperate, and then he dragged a hand up his side, spreading excess paint while Brendon breathed heavy underneath him.

He held his hands up for Brendon to look at. “See, kitten? You’re a work of art.” He whispered just before he pushed in slowly without much of a warning, making Brendon gasp and throw his head back. There was a little resistance at first, of course there was; it had been a while. A long while. But he pushed in and Brendon clenched around him, making him pause before he pushed in further.

Brendon jutted his hips upward, trying to get used to the feeling that he hadn’t felt in something of seven months, and pulled his legs up to catch the backs of Dallon’s ankles. Dallon placed his elbows on the floor on either side of the boy and reached up to tangle their fingers together with both hands, leaning down to steal a kiss when he slid in deeper.

“You with me?” Dallon’s voice asked into the minimal space between their lips. Brendon nodded, breathing heavy already, so fucking wanton and already sweating a bit.

“Hurts a little. Been a long time.” He permitted him to push in another inch. Dallon paused to catch his lips in another kiss, a transient one that held no purpose other than reassurance. And he knew he could tell Dallon anything. He knew.

“Wanna stop? I can stop.” He proposed, but Brendon shook his head. He had him so hard already, it had been so long since they’d done this. He was finally feeling okay with his body, with being naked and vulnerable again. He just didn’t want to be in control of his own mind for a minute.

“No. Don’t you dare. Just... try to— fuck,” Brendon paused to swallow hard, “try to go a little deeper than last time. I’ll let you know if too much is too much. Wanna feel you.”

“Yes sir.” Dallon dipped his head again to bite at Brendon’s lips.

With a whimper Brendon tilted his head back and closed his eyes, feeling lips kiss down his windpipe, and then teeth, scraping and biting and sucking until his skin felt red and raw. There would be bruises but they would blend with the paint that clung to his skin when Dallon gripped the side of his neck hard, not quite knowing his own strength though Brendon kind of liked it.

Breathing against Brendon’s lips, Dallon pulled almost all the way out and then pushed back in, moving deeper until Brendon cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure and want, rolling his hips against Dallon’s despite the burning sensation. He may not have known exactly what he was doing, had only done this once and even then they were both cautious, but they found their rhythm, a moderately paced in and out, in and out. A continuous movement of two rolling, sweaty bodies, breathtaking, heartbreaking, absolutely blissful.

Each time Dallon thrusted his hips up against Brendon’s Brendon gasped or moaned or whined, making too much noise but leaving Dallon smirking against his skin. Dallon’s hands traveled up and down the expanse of Brendon’s body, trying to feel every inch of him, covering every bit of his skin with excess paint, making him a work of art. There was a difference between corporal art and the art they found so amply in each other, and sometimes those two things weren’t so dichotomous.

Nothing but burning red desire and white noise rushed in Dallon’s ears as he shifted his hips and angled them upward, making Brendon cry out, tugging on Dallon’s hair. “Oh, god.” Brendon moaned loud, couldn’t hold it in, the muscles of his stomach quivering.

He was hungry, pushing down on him and begging for more, rolling his body against Dallon’s. Feeling electric, Brendon grabbed at Dallon’s golden coated shoulders and dragged his hands down purple shoulder blades, leaving thin red lines in the wake of his fingernails, breeding with azure and clover green. He needed something to hold on to, to ground him, and Dallon had him right where he wanted him. Dallon was breathing into Brendon’s mouth whenever he returned for a kiss, but he’d never been very vocal, only let out little noises while Brendon practically screamed.

Dallon scooped him up closer, and Brendon scrambled for some purchase. Dallon pushed in deeper, almost all the way, faster now that Brendon was feeling bolder. “God.” Dallon cursed under his breath when he felt Brendon’s fingers pressing hard into his skin. He wrapped a hand around the side of his neck to pull him into a kiss. Brendon could get anything he wanted from Dallon, but when all was said and done, Dallon was in charge of them. Brendon didn’t mind at all.

Brendon’s thighs tightened, his skin slick with sweat, and he could feel his muscles clench, he was so close. He'd never felt so close to somebody in his life. This was it; this was what being in love felt like. He wouldn’t change this for the world.

Dallon sped up his thrusting, making Brendon’s stomach stir and his toes curl with exultation. Dallon shifted his hips upward again, ready to make him come, he always wanted Brendon to come first. Brendon let out a noise that made something in Dallon’s stomach tighten, feeling insatiable. He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped Brendon’s hips so goddamn tight, losing his rhythm as he neared the edge.

“Brendon.” He rushed out, trying to catch his breath, but when his eyes slipped open he caught sight of the rosy cheeks and red lips and suddenly he’d forgotten every word in his vocabulary.

Brendon arched his back to get closer to Dallon’s body. He needed more, so much more, he needed release, he needed Dallon, his body was shaking and his head was spinning with ecstasy.

“Dal, I can’t—“ Trembling, panting, moaning, slick with sweat and tired. He tilted his head up to bury his face in Dallon’s shoulder as he came without giving Dallon a warning, but a warning wasn’t needed. He’d been on edge for what seemed like centuries.

Dallon kept thrusting hard and fast with one hand on his hip and one tight on the back of his neck, Brendon's arm wrapped around his back and his eyes squeezed shut with his nails sinking deep into his skin. Dallon pressed his chest against Brendon’s, as close as they could possibly be, and let himself come undone.

“Fuck.” Brendon gasped helplessly, his mouth open against Dallon’s shoulder, eyes filled with tears and thighs burning, deep and visceral in the pit of his quivering stomach.

Breathing heavily, Dallon pulled out and shifted away, dipping his head to kiss him before Brendon went to hug his waist, burying his head in his thigh. Carefully, Dallon lifted his chin with a finger and told him, “You’ve got paint on your face.”

“I don’t care.” Brendon muttered as paint dried uncomfortably on his skin, and he didn’t, he just wanted to lay there. His bones were tired all of a sudden, but glowing, and Dallon laughed with deep warmth as he brushed fingers through dark locks of Brendon’s hair.

“Can you do something for me?” He asked genially, pushing hair out of brown eyes. Brendon peeked up at him wordlessly and Dallon pat his side, taking it as a yes. “Get up and stand against the door.”

Brendon gave him a look of skepticism but did as he was told, not having the energy to ask. Dallon got up too as Brendon stood against his white door, folding his arms awkwardly as he watched Dallon cross the room, getting a tissue and going to wipe Brendon’s stomach. He snorted but let him, figured nothing was too intimate now, and Dallon was silent as he went to grab his camera from the dresser.

“What are you doing?” Brendon asked him cautiously.

He said nothing, only guided Brendon’s arms down to his sides. “Stand the way you normally would. Arms at your sides, look right at me.” He took a couple of steps back and positioned his camera while Brendon did as he was told, assuming now when Dallon hadn’t answered his question. Once he'd captured a few photos, Dallon told him to turn.

Brendon turned around, confused. “What’s this for?”

“Nothing in particular. You’re just... you’re gorgeous.”

Brendon smiled over his shoulder at him and turned around again as Dallon handed him the dirty palette to cover himself with. He directed him to stare into the camera unseeingly so Brendon did, trying not to smile because he hated to admit it, but he loved being his subject matter. It made him feel special. Like he was worth looking at.

“Thank you, handsome.” Dallon gratified as he set his camera down. Brendon nodded, didn’t question him because anything Dallon did turned out beautiful, and only hugged him when Dallon extended an arm for him. “My work of art.” He said under his breath, whispered into the top of Brendon’s head, but Brendon couldn’t bite back his grin when he heard it. “So.” He pulled away after a second, ruffling Brendon’s hair. “If you wanna shower, because no offense, you really need to, I’m just gonna clean my floor before the paint dries all over it.”

Brendon looked down at the mess they’d made and could only laugh, feeling sated and bubbly in this way that he hardly ever felt. “Okay. Yeah. I’m gonna shower. I’ll be quick.”

“Okay. Clean yourself out really well, you know where the washcloths are. Call me if you need anything. Take your time.” Dallon assured him. Brendon nodded simply and disappeared to the bathroom, suddenly itching to take a shower and rid his skin of the half sticky, half dried paint all over him.

He found a washcloth in the cabinet and tossed it into the shower like routine, twisting the faucet and testing to make sure the water was warm. He caught sight of himself in the mirror, paint stained and bitten flesh, sweat slick hair and tired eyes because he was so fucked out. Having gone so many months without being with him made Brendon realize how wonderful it felt when he finally could be.

He climbed in and the hot water slid down his skin, bringing traces of still wet paint with it. He stared up at the shower head, squinting at the water, shooting at him like rain and getting in his eyes. But he felt refreshed in a way, like everything had just cleansed him. Like even if it were temporary, he felt like his body was his. Like he wasn’t so trapped.

He was sore and he hugged himself under the hot water, rocking himself back and forth. It was funny, to him. That he could be so on and off, hate to be touched one second and crave Dallon’s skin the next. He didn’t know what to attribute that too. Whether he was indecisive or if it was just the good versus bad days everyone was so keen on telling him about. Some things felt more feasible than others, he guessed.

He bent down to pick up the washcloth to clean himself out, smiling awkwardly as he did. He liked trying new things with him, whenever he was feeling up to it. It made him feel like they were finding their compatibility. Molding to each other. It was worth even the silly, awkward moments in the afterglow of it.

The room was clean when Brendon padded in and closed the door behind him, wrapped in a towel with water dripping off of him. Dallon looked up from where he was setting his jar of paintbrushes on his desk and smiled warmly when Brendon said, “I tried to get as much of it off as I could, but not all of it would come off.” He held out an arm. “I guess I’m the rainbow boy, in more ways than one.”

Dallon crossed his arms and walked over to him sheepishly. “Yeah, I should’ve warned you not to get any on your face. It’ll take a few showers to get off. Acrylics are tough.”

“That’s fine.” Brendon sighed and took a seat on the end of the bed, tightening the towel around him. He’d definitely get some weird looks when he left the apartment, but he would take that any day if it got him this. “It was worth it. That... that was really good.”

Dallon laughed, nodded, continued to clean up as he had picked up on his mother’s habit or maybe Brendon’s. “I told you art was a turn on.” He said, and Brendon supposed he did.

“You gonna include your painting about how art makes you horny in your gallery?”

Dallon laughed and shoved him as he took Brendon’s towel from him and hung it over his shoulder. “Maybe. Don’t know yet.” He shrugged and Brendon giggled, leaning back on his mattress. “I’m gonna go shower too. I’ll be fast. And then we can order something to eat if you want, okay?”

“Sure, if you want to.” Brendon agreed, but realized almost immediately how strange it sounded. Like he was tiptoeing. He wasn’t. He just didn’t know.

“Sure.” Dallon smiled back at him but it seemed forced, maybe, though it was too quick to tell. Before Brendon could say anything else Dallon disappeared and he covered his face with his hands. He didn’t want to make him feel bad. The whole point of this was to remind him that they could be comfortable with each other. Naked and otherwise.

His curiosity got the better of him and he crawled over to where Dallon’s phone was plugged into the charger on his side table. He didn’t want to snoop, he was just curious, wanted to see the things he took photos of and wrote in his notes and thought of during the day. It wasn’t snooping when he wasn’t looking for anything wrong.

He keyed in Dallon’s passcode and swiped through his apps, unorganized unlike Brendon’s, not sorted into categories and subcategories. It was endearing, almost, the mess, the colorful scatter, the way Brendon opened up to his photos app to see dozens of photos of him that Dallon had taken in passing. Photos of him smiling or laughing, capturing his natural essence, rarities that nobody ever got to see, made him look like a work of art. His heart felt warm, because nobody had ever seen him like this before. Like someone worth seeing.

He clicked out of his photos and into his notes, expecting to find some sort of writing or something that would make him smile. A list of things he needed to buy, some art supplies and a book he’d been looking to read, batteries for his graphing calculator and scotch tape. A reminder to email Ryan a data chart for their physics project. A few broken excerpts of something that could become a story or a poem if he ever found it in him to finish them.

And a list of numbers. Brendon scrolled through, squinting at the screen, reading the dates and numbers and trying to figure out what they meant. He went over them again and again until he realized, and quickly closed out of the tab. Calorie counting. Brendon felt sick when he saw it. He shouldn’t have invaded his privacy. He shouldn’t have bothered looking.

“Hey.” Dallon greeted suddenly and Brendon jumped, clicking back into his photos and scrolling halfway up. He didn’t approach him, he wasn't skeptical, just walked to his drawer to pull open the top one. Giving Brendon a perfect view of the leftover paint splattered and clinging to his bare back, dripping with water. Making him stare at his hips, wondering if he was worse than he said he was. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Going through your photos.” Brendon told him, because technically it wasn’t a lie. He wasn’t lying. The words ached in his throat, though, and he watched Dallon wipe the stray water off of his biceps.

“Oh yeah? What’d ya find?” He pulled his boxers on and Brendon didn’t hide his gaze until a pair of sweatpants were on too, and he looked back down at the phone when Dallon found a tee shirt. He wished he could get in his head. The closest thing was getting into his phone.

“Oh, nothing. Just lots of pictures of me. You must really like me, huh?” He teased, swallowing down his anxiety and poking fun as he watched Dallon tug on the hem of his shirt. “You’re so talented, you know. You put famous artists to shame.”

Dallon laughed modestly and dipped his head so Brendon wouldn’t see his blush. “Shut up. It’s literally an iPhone camera.”

“I’m serious! You’re so good. Look at this.” He held up a photo of himself with the light in his eye, smiling because that day Dallon was in a good mood and insisted he pose for a photo because the sun leaking in through the diner window made his brown eyes look gold. “I was exhausted and sweaty and you made me look good. Only you can make me look good. Why haven’t I seen this? This should be my new profile picture. You could use it for your portfolio. Not that you need me in there, but-“

“You’re such a dork.” Dallon climbed over him and straddled his back, reaching down to massage his shoulder blades. “And stop. You’re going in my portfolio, Brendon. You’re gonna get me into art school. I took a few good ones this summer and I just have to edit them and put them in. And you do look really nice in that.”

“Hm.” He sent himself the photo, aware that Dallon was watching over his shoulder, and scrolled down further until he reached a few photos that Dallon had taken of himself. “Awe!” Brendon cooed down at his awkward half smiling face, wearing a gray crewneck and red cheeks.

“Stop!” Dallon squeezed his shoulder and Brendon laughed, sending himself that photo too. “Don’t laugh at my selfies.”

“I’m not laughing at your selfies. I’m laughing at how fucking cute you are.” He assured him as he scrolled through a few more, but he caught Dallon’s eyes in the reflection of his screen and he couldn’t believe that he would think he was laughing at him. Criticizing him. Brendon loved him. He wouldn’t do that. “Really.” He added, because he could see Dallon’s frown. “You’re so handsome. I can’t believe you don’t have more pictures of yourself.”

“I try not to.” He shrugged one shoulder and started to knead Brendon’s again, clearly hesitant.

“Well, you should. I mean, look at you.” He held up another photo of him, and Dallon sighed almost inaudibly when Brendon tilted his head back to look at him. “You’re so pretty. I can’t believe you don’t think so.”

“I don’t know.” He bit the inside of his cheek and kept rolling his palms over Brendon’s bare shoulders. He didn’t say that he had only taken that picture to point out his imperfections on a bad day. He didn’t say that he never took photos of himself because it reminded him that he wasn’t what he wished he could be. He didn’t say it, because Brendon thought he was beautiful and that meant something.

“Hey, are you excited for your meeting with the people from the gallery?” Brendon added after a minute, still aimlessly scrolling as Dallon watched unseeingly.

“Um, I’m more nervous than anything.” He admitted, rubbing his back now. “Talking to strangers and seeing what they have to say about my art. My life. They have to write a little about me for the show’s pamphlet. And I hope I get a good spot. I hope they like me. I never make good first impressions.”

Brendon craned his neck back to look at him with a frown. “You always make good first impressions.” He argued.

“The first time I met you, I bumped into you and made you crack your phone.”

“You did not crack my phone. It was already cracked. And okay, I guess that’s a valid point, but even that was endearing as hell. You’ll charm the pants off of ‘em.” He shifted underneath him so Dallon climbed off, going to sit isolated on the other side of the bed instead as Brendon rolled onto his back. “C’mon. You’re insanely talented. You’ll kill this.”

“I just feel like for the past couple of months I haven’t been my best, creativity wise. Like nothing is good enough to put in a gallery where hundreds of people are going to see it and judge it and talk to me about it. This has always been something I’ve wanted but now all of a sudden every time I think about it, I feel sick.”

“It’s performance anxiety.” Brendon bumped his foot against Dallon’s playfully, and it took everything in him to try and smile. Brendon could see where he was coming from, his anxiety, being out there with everyone watching. But this was a good thing. “It’s a good thing.” He voiced, and Dallon only looked at him with hesitance. “It is. This is a big step. You deserve it. I’m so proud of you for this. For everything.”

Dallon huffed, but there was a hint of a smile when Brendon sat up and migrated to his side. “Thank you. I know I should be grateful. It’s just... this is my dream. What if I screw it up?”

“You won’t.” Brendon assured him like it were the only truth he had known. And in that moment it was. He believed in Dallon even when he didn’t believe in himself. That was just how they worked. “Trust me. You won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know you.” Brendon told him solemnly. Dallon searched his eyes, trying to look for the reason he loved him so much, why he supported him so avidly, how he always knew how to make Dallon feel better. He reached out to hug him wordlessly and Brendon smiled sadly, trying not to wonder why Dallon was so quick to think the worst of himself.

“Thank you.” Dallon whispered, because nothing else felt like enough to say. “Will you lay with me?”

“Of course.” Brendon set Dallon’s phone down on the side table and they melted together easily as they laid down, always fitting so perfectly together like a puzzle. They felt that way about each other sometimes, like they completed something, though neither ever said it. It was just this unspoken feeling. Their togetherness.

Dallon rested his head on Brendon’s upper arm, curling up at his side in that way that made him seem small. Brendon brushed a hand through his hair for a minute, bit back his words into something he could chew, and only watched Dallon make himself comfortable because that was the point. Making Dallon comfortable. He closed his eyes, tried so desperately not to think about what he had seen.

“At least I don’t have to change the sheets, right?” Dallon joked after a minute, drawing outlines of shapes on Brendon’s bare stomach. Brendon tried to smile, but his mind went there again. That place that he tried never to stay. Dallon nuzzled against his warm flesh and closed his eyes, his fingertip trailing aimlessly now as if it had a mind of its own. Their bodies were lovers, it seemed, always fit so perfectly, molded together, made sense. Brendon loved that about Dallon’s body. He couldn’t believe Dallon didn’t. “I missed your skin.” He whispered after a beat, breath warm against Brendon’s chest.

“I love your skin.” Brendon returned so quietly that he wasn’t sure Dallon had heard. He just traced invisible lines on his stomach, made meaningless patterns and loops that Brendon tries to follow at first but then didn’t. He just laid there, feeling Dallon exist beside him. “Hey.” He said a bit louder, but still quiet, and Dallon’s throat moved when he hummed. “Are you okay? With sleeping together, and everything?”

“I’m okay.” Dallon assured him, running his nails up his chest gently. “Are you okay? We haven’t done it since before...”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m glad we did it. I’m not always gonna wanna do it, and I’m sure there will be times that I react the way I did the last time we tried, but I needed this to remind me that I don’t have to associate sex with something terrible. I’m comfortable with you. That’s really important.”

“I’m comfortable with you too, baby.” He whispered, and Brendon’s fingers laced through his hair gingerly. “I trust you a lot, you know.”

Brendon stared up at the ceiling, anxiety burning in his chest where Dallon touched him. He trusted him. He trusted him. He just wish he could believe that when Dallon tried so often to hide.

“Yeah.” Brendon whispered, and Dallon sighed in content. “Yeah, I know.”

* * *

Brendon closed the door behind him and kicked off his shoes, trying to balance himself as the warmth welcomed him home. He heard his mother mulling around the kitchen and his lips tilted up in a smile; he loved spending time with Dallon but sometimes home was best when he needed to clear his head.

“Bren?” His mom called as he hung up his jacket, pushing his converse against the wall.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He called back, and slipped out of the front room to join her in the kitchen. “I took the bus home. I didn’t wanna make Dallon get up. What are you doing?”

“I’m organizing. This place is a mess.” She turned away from the counter and made a face at him, making him self-conscious all over again. “What’s all over you? Is that paint?” She licked her thumb and went to touch his face and he recoiled, making a face right back at her.

“I don’t want mom spit on me, stop.” He swatted at her. “Yeah, it’s paint.”

“Why’s there paint all over your face? And your arms? You’re gonna ruin your clothes.” She criticized, tugging at his arm instead, observing the half washed away smears of acrylic he couldn’t manage to wash off. They should have used watercolors. He should have showered again.

He pulled his arm away from her and crossed it over his chest insecurely, like she could tell. She had mother’s intuition. Of course she could tell. She knew him. “We, um. We just painted on each other.” He bristled away from her as she observed him. The acrylic fingerprints on his forearm from when Dallon held him down. The stripes gripping his collarbones. He tugged his shirt up, too aware that she was piecing it together.

“I know I said I wasn’t going to micromanage but...” She sighed, eyeing the bruise that Dallon had left, too hard to hide or cover up so he didn’t. He thought, stupidly and ill-advisedly, that no one would notice. He was never too skilled at predictions, though. “You’re being safe, right?”

He looked at her and then down at his socks. “We’re both clean.” He told her, not the answer to the question she had asked but an answer all the same.

She crossed her arms, staring her down. She was right. She said she wasn’t going to micromanage. “Meaning?”

“We know what we’re doing. Don’t worry about me. I can make my own decisions.” He started out of the kitchen without waiting for a response but he heard her sigh, and ephemerally he wondered if she thought about this often. If he was going to get hurt.

“I just want you safe, my son.” She called after him, trying to make it sound playful though it was rooted in sincerity. She still had those Mormon mindsets. He was different. He knew they thought so. He just liked to pretend they didn’t.

“I’m safe, mama. I promise. I’m totally safe. Can I go now, please? I have homework.” He nodded his head upward, maybe being a little too hasty.

“Fine. Fine. Just. Go wash that off, Bren. Please.” She sighed, turning away, and he felt somewhat guilty when he headed up the stairs. Like he was going against her wishes, or had disappointed her, but that was what he did. He disappointed people.

“Sorry.” He added, stopping on the third step up.

She looked up at him, eyes soft, and said, “There’s nothing to be sorry about, ipo. I just think you look ridiculous with paint all over your face.”

He laughed and she smiled at him, always managing to twist things around. “Alright, mama.” He agreed, letting his smile linger as he started up the stairs again.

* * *

Brendon began to search for coping mechanisms after having talked to Ms. Kenny about it one Monday during their meeting. He let his anxiety get the best of him sometimes. Let it have power over him, let it make him think things he shouldn’t have been thinking, let it eat at him until he was questioning everyone and everything around him.

So he came up with his own ways to cope. Organizing was a good one; it always had been, he knew, but now he has found an even more therapeutic effect when he started to search for ways to make sense of things. Keeping busy got his mind off of it, but he was never one to try and avoid his problems. And normally talking it out with Dallon would help some, but now he needed to talk about Dallon and it didn’t make sense to talk to Dallon about himself. The only problem was it wasn’t something he could tell anyone.

What to do when you have a secret you need to talk about but don’t have anyone to talk to, he typed into the private browser on his phone, and grimaced at himself for even being so foolish. He scrolled through the Google results, searching for something useful, nothing involving a therapist because it was starting to feel cliché.

Talk to an inanimate object or something you know won’t understand or reciprocate, he read somewhere on a Reddit thread after scrolling desperately for a few minutes. He made a face, looked between his phone screen and the dinosaur holding a cake, and decided that it was worth a try, at least.

“This feels silly.” He told the ceiling as he lay on his back, but then again it was. That was the point.

The ceiling stared back at him, the dinosaur, its cake, and he hoped no one was listening because this was idiotic. He could only image what he would look like to an outsider.

“Okay.” He huffed, as if having to prepare the dinosaur holding a cake for his rollercoaster. “Fuck. I feel so stupid. Okay. I think my boyfriend is anorexic or something and I feel like a terrible person for not realizing sooner or ever asking if he was okay when he didn’t eat around me. And I want to talk to him about it and ask questions and try to understand but I don’t think it’s something I can just ask about. It doesn’t seem like he wants to talk about it. But I don’t know anything about this. I don’t know how to be supportive and what to do to help him get better or even how to treat him. I’m scared that I’m seeing him differently and I don’t want to see him differently. It’s just so hard to when I know now how he sees himself.”

He stared at the ceiling as it didn’t respond, and he didn’t know why he thought it would. Like maybe God was listening, or maybe God took the place of the dinosaur holding a cake and had been there the whole time. But he just felt idiotic for even trying. Talking to no one wasn’t going to help. There wasn’t any solution to this. There was just hoping it wasn’t bad.

“Thanks a lot.” He muttered to nobody, rolling over and hiding his face in his pillow.

* * *

By the end of the week, Dallon had sorted out his final pieces and had met with the gallery to talk about the presentation. Brendon hasn’t seen his choices yet, Dallon had wanted them to be a surprise, and though Brendon wasn’t a big fan of surprises, he let it go. Whatever made Dallon happy, he supposed.

On Friday afternoon Dallon dragged Brendon to the gallery, in a better mood than he had been all week. The stress of his decision was gone and now was just the stress of the show. Brendon followed him, trying to keep up as he tugged him by the hand up the front steps and through the open doors, where the curators were adding the finishing touches for the following evening.

“Calm down, Dal, your stuff will be there when we get inside. Why are you so antsy?”

Dallon guided him through the open, white walled rooms, across hardwood floors and into the second room. “Because I’m excited. Haven’t you ever been so excited about something that you can’t focus on anything else?”

He watched Dallon tug him across the room and half smiled to himself. “Yeah.” He wondered if he felt the same.

“Okay, here it is.” He threw his hands up and Brendon turned to look, eyes wide, as Dallon’s art adorned the wall in front of them. Ten pieces, each different from the last, with their own little plaques and everything. Real art in a real gallery.

“Oh, wow.” He breathed out, and this was a good surprise. This was the best surprise. Seeing it before opening day. Before the masses and judgment and the world. He put a hand to his chest, disbelieving, and could only say, “Dallon, oh my god.”

“Yeah.” He laughed giddily, overexcited and with good reason, as Brendon explored, trying to take in all of it but getting caught up in the next piece too soon.

This was all Dallon. His soul laid out for everybody to see. And Brendon was the only one who could see into that soul when the gallery was over, when his art was off the walls and people slowly forgot the meanings they’d made up on their own. He was Brendon’s to figure out. He was really starting to realize that.

“I’m so proud of you.” Brendon turned to pull him into a hug without warning, standing on his toes and grinning hard against his shoulder. “I mean, look at this. This is incredible. I don’t know anybody who would ever manage to do this. I hope you’re proud of yourself because you deserve to be.”

“Thank you.” He pulled away to grab back at him, overwhelmed. He’d wanted this forever. Now he had it and he didn’t know what to do with it. He turned Brendon around in his arms to face him toward the wall and rested his chin on his shoulder, arms loose around his waist. “I just hope everyone likes them. This could be a really big door for me. It’s an amazing opportunity. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but there are some seriously good things that can come out of this.”

“And they will. You did amazing.” He turned to smile at him, finding his hands with ease. “Look at this, Dal. This is all you. This is such an accomplishment.”

“I had a good muse.” He said thoughtfully, smiling like he were daydreaming. Brendon smiled too, transient and wondering, and Dallon added, “I wanna show you something. There’s more.”

“Oh.” Brendon’s eyebrows went up in surprise and he let Dallon show him to a divider with three frames in a row, all with his name underneath them. Three photographs, not with anything in common, just their being the only photos he had chosen to display. But. That one photo. There in the middle. “That’s me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m naked.”

“Yeah.”

He turned to look at his boyfriend in shock, not necessarily angry though that was what Dallon has expected. “You put a picture of me naked up in an art gallery where the whole city can just come see it? How is this,” Brendon pointed to the photograph, “good enough to be put in your gallery?”

“Because it’s perfect, Brendon! Look at it. The colors. The way the light reflects on your body. The emotionless look in your eye. It says so much. A picture is worth a thousand words, right? This is totally worth a thousand words. Meaning it’s worth a spot in the gallery, too. Besides, you’re not totally naked. You have the palette covering you.”

“Yeah, it’s covering my dick!” He whispered, not wanting to attract attention, as he pointed to the photo. He stared plainly into the camera, the light sharpening his jaw and outlining his bare body as streaks of paint adorned his skin. “Look at me. I’m sweaty and my hair is disgusting and it’s obvious that I just got fucked. Is this really something you want everyone talking about?”

“You could use some good publicity.” He shrugged. Brendon looked back at the photo skeptically, making a face at it. He didn’t quite like looking at himself. Especially not when he was shirtless, covered in sweat and dried paint. “C’mon. I wouldn’t be here without you. You’re what inspires me every day. You deserve a place up here. If you don’t want me to show it then I won’t, but don’t overthink it. It’s a good photo. It’s my favorite one here. For obvious reasons, of course.”

“No.” He said gently, turning to look at it again. This was crazy. Dallon could be so crazy sometimes. “No, you should keep it up. It means something. I mean, I’ll have a lot to explain to my parents before they see it tomorrow, but you never know. They might be proud of me for making the Weekes Wall Of Fame, art gallery edition.”

“Good.” Dallon slid both arms around him to hold him like he were a piece of art that hadn’t yet been hung up. “Because you deserve to be seen.”

Brendon smiled softly at him, brushing his shoulder with his hand. Dallon could do what he wanted. He could take photos of him and size him up and chalk him down to whatever he wished he could be. Make a masterpiece out of him because the ideal tended to be so much prettier than the reality.

But Brendon wanted him to do whatever he wanted, because he couldn’t resist the hungry attention that Dallon’s eyes offered him. Boys like him wanted to feel special. Boys like Dallon liked to charm them into thinking they were.

“You make me feel seen,” Brendon whispered as if he were afraid to say it, as he’d never said the words before. They meant a lot to him. Feeling seen. Not a lot of people understood that. He wondered if Dallon did, or if even that was a moot point.

“You make me feel seen too, Brendon.” Dallon told him, though Brendon couldn’t help but wonder. How true was it? Because he had been debating for days whether or not Dallon even let Brendon see him.

“Dallon?” He peeped, the words on the tip of his tongue. But Dallon looked up innocently, eyes big and blue like the ocean, and he couldn’t. He couldn’t ask. He couldn’t say it. I’m worried about you. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” He nuzzled his face in Brendon’s cheek and Brendon sighed, staring at the wall as Dallon rocked him back and forth.

He felt like a child. Like a scared little kid running from the truth as he had grown so used to. The worst part, though, was that he feared that that was all he was ever going to be.


	52. Chapter 51: Playing for Keeps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More smut lol what did you expect

The photo of him. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. The boy who swore to hide himself away, the boy who no one knew anything about. He barely spoke in class out of fear of being known, and now... now there was a photo of him on display. His body, his heart, his soul. His Dallon.

He stared at his eyes in the mirror as they reflected artificial light, and he couldn’t picture it even if he tried. The people of Boulder City walking around the gallery, with glasses of champagne or grape juice, for the minors, judging the new young artists’ work. Judging Dallon’s work. The paintings he had chosen, a sketch or two, and that photograph. One photograph in between two more, but the one in the center stood out.

Brendon could still feel the paint on his skin though it had long since washed off. He could still feel Dallon’s hands on his skin, too, and other hands, and every other thing that had touched him. He’d been taken advantage of. He’d been shoved into vulnerability. But this was something else. Something good, though in a way it was the same.

Everybody was going to see him naked. He didn’t know how that was supposed to be something good.

He fumbled with his skinny tie in the bathroom mirror, maybe it looked too stupid, maybe he was just being too critical now, as in half an hour he’d be watching Dallon Weekes show a naked photo of him, up for interpretation.

A naked photo meant sex. You had to be an idiot not to figure that one.

He just couldn’t shake it as he tapped each button on his shirt and watched his fingers move in the mirror like they were their own entities. He felt like he was on death row. Waiting anxiously until the execution.

He slipped out of the bathroom and into his parent’s room instead, where his mother was putting on lipstick and his father was combing his hair. “Hey.” He greeted when they looked at him. “I’m ready.”

“Good!” His mother capped her lipstick and he smiled as she examined him. “You look very nice, honey. And you smell good.”

“Yeah, I used Matt’s cologne. Special occasion.” He featured to himself like it was nothing, but it wasn’t. It was a big evening. A big, nerve-wracking evening. “So, I have something kinda weird to tell you before we get there.” He added awkwardly as he shifted his weight. “Uh. There’s kind of... there’s a picture of me at the gallery and I’m kind of naked. Dallon took it and he said that he could replace it if I didn’t want it up, but it’s his night, you know? I didn’t want him to have to change it last minute. I want him to be happy with everything he put out.”

His parents exchanged looks like they did in that silent communication kind of way, where Brendon didn’t really understand but prayed it wasn’t bad. They could be vicious when they wanted to be. But they said nothing, just nodded, and as he dropped his hands at his sides his dad said, “I mean, if it’s for art.”

“Brendon.” His mother sighed, and that was more like it. “Look. I know that as a mother I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad that you’re having sex. It means you’re getting better. You are having sex, right?”

He nodded slowly, confused, face red with blush, because this didn’t exactly seem like her. Encouraging her youngest to sleep with a boy. “Yeah. Uh. Just once, though. Like, once since our first time.”

“Okay. Just. I know you love Dallon. And I know you’re both clean or whatever and no one can get pregnant but you need to wear condoms, Brendon. Safe sex isn’t just for straight people.”

“Mama, oh my god.” He whined, disturbed.

“I’m serious! You need to be safe if you’re going to be having sex with anyone, Brendon. That’s my rule. You’re still my child. And I give all of you condoms. There’s no reason for you not to use them.” She pat his arm and he made a face, trying to avoid her gaze.

“I thought you weren’t going to micromanage.” He sputtered, embarrassed, as his father stared wordlessly and his mother humiliated him as she did so well.

“I’m your mother. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe.” She pinched his cheek and he frowned, feeling somewhat infantilized. “You look very handsome, keiki. We’re gonna leave in a minute, so you can you get your shoes and jacket.”

“Okay.” He agreed, not really knowing how else to respond, and it was probably for the best. He was never good with those conversations.

The front door of the gallery was open when Brendon’s family arrived. He followed them inside with his hands folded neatly behind his back, trying to look mature, wearing no strange pops of color so that he wouldn’t stand out. It was Dallon’s night, after all. He looked around, but didn’t recognize anybody, and didn’t bother looking at the other artwork yet because he had someone he needed to see.

He tugged in his mother’s sleeve like a child. “I’m gonna go find Dallon.” He peeped, and she only nodded as if to permit him. He smiled, giddy all of a sudden, and his parents observed the art as Brendon took off to find his boyfriend.

He wandered into a room and looked around warily, searching for Dallon but only realizing a few minutes later that he was probably at his own display. He turned to find the room Dallon’s art was in, tried to remember where it was because this place seemed so big on the inside, but he bumped into Ryan on the way out.

“Oh.” Ryan stepped back, and opened his mouth to apologize but smiled when he realized. “Bren. There you are. I was wondering when you would show up. Hi. You look great.”

“Thank you, so do you. Hi.” Brendon enveloped him in a hug, overwhelmed already. “This place is so big. There’s so much art. I guess that’s the point, though.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Ryan played along, never giving Brendon the chance to embarrass himself. “Hey, this is my baby sister Juliette.” He added with a gesture to the girl standing beside him, almost a head shorter but with the same brown eyes. “Jule, this is Brendon. Dallon’s boyfriend.”

“I’m not a baby.” She argued, and punched his arm hard enough to make him recoil. “But hi.” Brendon smiled shyly, could see the resemblance, and she turned to Ryan to say, “I’m gonna go look at the art.”

“Sure. Stay close.” He demanded when she walked away, sticking her tongue out at him petulantly. He rolled his eyes, but turned back to Brendon nonetheless, and Brendon figured he was protective after everything, but didn’t say it. “Did you just get here?”

Brendon nodded, folding his arms and feeling out of place somewhere so nice and put together. “A couple of minutes ago. When did you get here? Have you seen Dallon?”

“Yeah. I came with him when it opened, he gave me a ride. My family didn’t wanna be here so early, but y’know. Support.”

“Yeah, I get it. I assumed he’d bring someone with him. My family took forever to get ready. I haven’t seen him yet. How is it?”

“Amazing. He’s so happy. In the car he was doing that really nervous rambling thing he does but then he actually got here and calmed down a bit. He only looked around for five minutes before he went to stand by his stuff and talk to everyone who looked at it. I think he’s freaking people out.” Brendon smiled, and Ryan added, “I think this is really good for him though. He’s really excited. Nervous, but. Y’know.”

“Yeah, I know.” He agreed, and he did, Dallon had been so freaked out leading up to this but it was here now. It was here, and so was that photo. “Hey, I wanna go find him. You wanna come?”

“Oh, I’m gonna make my rounds first. See Dallon’s competition. Besides, I have to keep an eye on my sister; my mom will have my ass if I lose her. She’s wary with us around strangers. I’ll find you guys later, though.”

“Okay. I’ll see you.” They exchanged nods and Brendon took off again, weaving cautiously through the crowd of strangers as he looked around. It was like a maze, the gallery, so much smaller on the outside than in here.

He wandered around for a few minutes, looking at the art, the young artists, as Dallon had said. And Brendon was biased, Dallon’s art would always be his favorite, but he was learning to love it more since back then, when he didn’t know all that he knew now.

He stepped into a room, the room, and there was his favorite piece of art.

Dallon was talking to a boy that looked vaguely familiar but Brendon didn’t recognize, laughing buoyantly and holding a hand to his chest in the way he did when he didn’t know how to take a compliment. He just watched him for a minute, taking in the sight of him happy, and his chest ached when he thought how rare it was, to see Dallon’s real smile. His real smile, and Brendon wondered why he didn’t see it more often.

Hoping he wasn’t interrupting, Brendon approached quietly and only smiled at Dallon when he saw him too. Something flickered on Dallon’s face and he grinned wide, reaching out to pull Brendon into a hug. “You’re here!” He exclaimed, not bothering to excuse himself from his conversation. “I’m so happy to see you. Thank you for coming.” He kissed his cheek and Brendon held onto his upper arm, forcing a smile up at him. He liked seeing him happy. It was just bittersweet when he realized how fleeting it was. “Hey, Bren. This is Ryan’s brother Ardan. Ardan, this is my boyfriend Brendon.”

“Brendon.” The boy said with recognition clear in his voice. Ardan. Ryan’s brother. Brendon had heard of him. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Dallon talks about you all the time.” He stuck a hand out and Brendon shook it timidly.

“Yeah. You too. You, uh. You look like Ryan. A lot.” He stuttered, still unsure of how to introduce himself to people. Ardan half smiled in that way that Ryan did so often, and Brendon wondered what their parents looked like, how shockingly similar they all looked. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you too.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot. He’s my mini me. I’m gonna go find him, but I’ll find you again in a little while, Dal. Congratulations.” He pat his shoulder and Dallon smiled, nodded, looked awkward as he was unable to take a compliment. He waved to Brendon and Brendon waved back, trying to be polite, but just coming off as uncomfortable because around strangers, he always was. Dallon turned to look at him, though, and a man with a tray walked by with drinks on it, just in time for Dallon to grab him one.

“Grape juice. They requested nonalcoholic beverages for the event.” He explained, and Brendon only smiled as he accepted the drink. “So, are you enjoying it? All the art?”

“It’s amazing. I am biased, though.” He figured, their shoulders brushing. “This is really cool, Dallon. I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad you had this opportunity. You look like you’re enjoying it. Standing here acting aloof.”

“Oh, I really am. This is a dream come true.” They exchanged smiles, and Brendon didn’t tell him that he was a dream come true too. “Go. Look around. You didn’t get enough time here yesterday. I want you to see everything.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He caught sight of The Rainbow Boy before he turned his back to it, instead looking at the wall and examining the pieces he had chosen so intricately after battling with himself over them for days. He picked some good ones. He always did have that quality.

“What does this one mean?” Brendon asked quietly, swirling the grape juice around in his glass as he looked up at an oil painting on a canvas.

“It means that I really love cock.” Dallon said, and Brendon turned to look at him in shock, letting out a laugh at his temerity. “Seriously. It’s a metaphor for queer romance and how it’s sexualized and undermined and treated as if it’s something to apologize for. I never want to apologize for my sexuality and the fact that I sleep with men. Well, a man.” He turned to smile at Brendon again.

“If I had any money I would buy it.” Brendon mused, his heart fluttering strangely in his chest.

“It’s okay. Your support is enough.” He assured him, and looped an arm around his waist, leaving him feeling like he was being shown off in a different way than in that photo. “Thank you for being here.”

“Thank you for... I don’t know. Inviting me. Fucking me on your bedroom floor. Putting an indecent photo of me up for everyone to judge.” He held his glass to his lips and grinned this charming grin when Dallon gave him an amused look. “Letting me be your muse, and stuff.”

“Ah. And stuff.” He took the glass from Brendon to take a sip, bumping his shoulder against his own. Brendon smiled to himself and looked back up at the wall, and Dallon opened his mouth to speak but a woman interrupted, boldly reaching out a hand for Dallon to shake. His eyebrows went up in surprise but he took her hand.

“Dallon Weekes, right?” The woman asked, and Dallon nodded. “Hi, Dallon. My name is Melody Watson. I was looking at your work a little while ago and you weren’t here but I wanted to introduce myself. Is now a good time?”

“Oh, yeah. Yes. It’s nice to meet you.” He greeted, only a little awkward as he had been doing this all night.

“You too, Dallon. I wish I’d gotten around to this sooner. You look so much like your father.” She sighed almost wistfully and Dallon was taken aback, shaking his head like he were clearing his mind.

“You knew my dad?” He asked quietly, unexpecting.

“He and I worked together for a while when you were a kid. He always told me about you. We kept in touch over the years; he always said you had become an incredible artist. He was right.” She looked up at the wall and Dallon looked over at Brendon, something soft in his eyes. “Your father said that from a young age, you knew you wanted to work in art. I assume you still do, then?”

“Yeah. I do. I plan to major in art history and minor in art next year.”

“Well, I work with art directors at the Art Institute; we see a lot of young artists that really make something out of themselves. Are you still applying, or...”

“Oh, I’m keeping my options open but I’m actually looking to go to the Art Institute. I take art really seriously; I actually recently finished a mural for my high school. That’s how I got this opportunity, actually.”

She nodded like she were taking in the information, and it all felt more like an interview than anything; Brendon rocked back and forth on his feet, staring at the art on the wall and trying not so inconspicuously to listen. “So aside from painting, what else do you do?”

“Um, mostly sketching. I like drawing people a lot. Mostly people who are important to me, people who have made an impact. Friends, mostly, but, y’know. Every good artist has a muse.” He reached out to grab Brendon’s arm as he eavesdropped, trying to act like he wasn’t listening in. “This is my partner, Brendon Urie. He’s inspired a lot of my art this past year.”

“Oh! It’s nice to meet you, Brendon.” She shook his hand and he smiled timidly, not expecting an introduction. “I’ve noticed you're featured in some of Dallon’s work.”

“Oh.” He looked down at his feet in a blush and nodded, not knowing what to say. Dallon placed a steady hand in between his shoulder blades and Brendon opened his mouth to say something, but only made an awkward, stuttering noise and realized he didn’t plan his words.

“He is.” Dallon chimed in, saving them from the silence. “I thought it would be an interesting shift in what I had previously done. It’s a modern-day twist to what you typically think of when you hear ‘nude paintings’. I wanted to explore painting nude instead. Or, quite literally, the nude form. Brendon just helped me out with that.” He curled his fingers on Brendon’s upper back and Brendon tightened his fingers where they were locked together in front of him.

“That’s very interesting. I never would have thought of that.” She turned to look at the photo and Brendon bit down on his lip too hard, trying not to follow her gaze. “So, you’re eighteen now, Dallon, right?”

“Yep. Nineteen in May.”

“Well, this is all very impressive, Dallon. I haven’t seen many kids at your age doing this. You really do take after Mark.” She shook her head, maybe a little nostalgic, and went to reach into her clutch when she turned back to him. “Listen. I want you to call me as soon as you can. Here’s my card. I’m the curator of a program for young artists and I would love if you’d come work with us, if you’re looking for a job. It’s a paid internship, a couple of days a week, and you’ll be doing a lot of hands on activities. It’ll be good for you as an artist. It’s the same thing that your father did when we began working together.”

“Wow.” He looked down at the slip of paper she’d handed him and nodded, slipping it into his phone case for safekeeping. “Thank you so much.” He shook her hand again, grinning, not even bothering to hide it.

“Of course. Have a wonderful night, Dallon, Brendon. I’ll be expecting to hear from you. Give me a call as soon as you can.”

“You will. I will. Thank you.” He smiled until she stepped away, and turned to pull Brendon into a hug when she disappeared into the next room. “I know I have to act cool and everything but oh my god.”

“Congratulations, holy shit. I’m so proud of you.” Brendon buried his face in the crook of Dallon’s neck and Dallon let out a laugh of disbelief.

“That was crazy. Wow.” He pulled away. “Wow. She knew my dad. That’s... that’s so weird. It’s like we’re connected through this. My dad and I. It’s like I can feel him with me or something. Especially now.”

“It’s funny how things work out.” Brendon offered, but he really didn’t know what to say. He would never understand what Dallon meant. That occult connection. He did know, however, that it would help Dallon, having that connection. Feeling like his loss hasn’t left as big a hole in him as he thought. “That’s really cool. That she wants to offer you a job. That’s a great opportunity.”

“It is. It really is. Things are looking up, huh?” He smiled at Brendon, this real smile, this big, perfect, lopsided smile. Brendon smiled back, and Dallon knew when his smiles were forced but for some reason, tonight, Dallon was just too happy to see what he normally would.

Things were looking up, he said, but he didn’t know that Brendon knew his truth.

Brendon didn’t respond, only turned back to look at his art, catching a few details he hadn’t realized before. He loved that about Dallon’s art. About Dallon. There was always more to uncover.

“Hey, Months.” An unfamiliar voice called suddenly from behind them, and at once they both turned.

Dallon’s eyes widened and he put a hand on Brendon’s arm to excuse himself, speed walking to the stranger and practically leaping into a hug. Or maybe not a stranger, judging by the way Dallon wrapped his arms around him in something of a reunion. Brendon stood by for a second, crossing his arms and watching curiously. There was always more to uncover. Brendon had lost count of how many times he’d wished he knew everything.

“Hi, you came.” He greeted, touched, as he pulled away to grin brightly at him. “Come here. C’mon.” He took his hand, the boy that Brendon didn’t know, the boy that Dallon did, and pulled him over to his wall. Brendon raised his eyebrows but smiled politely, and the not stranger turned to look at him, eyes lit up in recognition though Brendon didn’t recognize him.

“The boy you haven’t fucked things up with yet.” He said thoughtfully and Dallon nodded, watching them look at each other, Brendon in confusion and the boy with intrigue in his eyes.

“Yeah. This is the boy. Brendon, this is Silo. My former roommate.” Dallon introduced, and oh, his roommate, the one from the hospital, Brendon had no idea. He went to shake his hand and Silo smiled, nodding like it made sense. Like something made so, so much sense.

“Brendon. I’ve heard so much about you. It’s very nice to meet you.” He shook his hand strongly and Brendon nodded, intimidated, but feeling welcomed, and looked to Dallon for what to say next.

“You too. Uh. Dallon said you lived in Mesquite, right?” He asked conversationally, really the only thing he knew about him, and Silo nodded, beaming over at a proud looking Dallon.

“Yep, I do. I wanted to make the trip, though. Couldn’t miss his first gallery opening.”

“First of many.” Brendon corrected, looping an arm around Dallon’s back and giggling when Dallon clucked his tongue at him playfully. “He just got a job offer.”

“Potential job offer.” Dallon corrected, but it was all the same. Dallon was talented. He got things that boys with talent got. That got him far, in turn. “Not yet, but she liked me, so we’ll see.” He beamed at his friend like he were proving just the opposite of what he’d always thought he’d turn out like. “Let’s catch up. I have so much to tell you. Do you mind?” He turned to Brendon, but he shook his head.

“No, go. I’ll go find Ryan. Find me later.” He stood up on his toes to kiss the corner of his mouth and waved timidly to Silo, told him it was nice to meet him, before he wandered around the gallery, full of people and anxiety-inducing almost enough to make him want to leave.

He found Ryan sitting alone on a bench with a platter of cheese and crackers, and he nodded his head in a hello when they saw each other. “Hey. I found cheese and crackers. I’ve been monopolizing them for like, ten minutes. No one seems to care.” Ryan gestured to the food. “Want some?”

“Yes, I’m starving.” He sat down beside him on the bench and Ryan slid the platter between them. “Uh, Dallon’s friend from the hospital is here. Silo. He, uh. I gave him space to catch up with him.”

Ryan looked at him and then at the doorway of the room, leaning forward just the slightest as if he’d be able to see them. “Oh. Silo. I didn’t know he was coming.”

“Do you not like him?” Brendon asked hesitantly, sensing some animosity in his tone. He didn’t know enough about Silo to judge. All he knew was where he’d come from, and that in itself was jarring enough in contrast to the people from Dallon's other world.

“Oh, no, I like him just fine.” He assured him, but it sounded petty, unsure. “It’s just that he’s... like, Dal’s confidant. He tells him everything. It’s part of something they bonded over at the hospital together, or whatever. They were both in inpatient so they get that part of each other.” He sighed a little, sounding nostalgic or upset or maybe both, and Brendon watched his face as he broke a cracker in half. “Dallon and I used to tell each other everything before all that happened. I miss him.”

“I miss him too, sometimes.” Brendon admitted, and the words hurt to say but Ryan didn’t seem shocked, not really, just solemn. Understanding.

“It sucks missing someone you see every day.” He lamented.

“Tell me about it.” Brendon rested his cheek in his hand, rolling a few crumbs in between his index finger and thumb. “I’ve been feeling weird lately. Thinking about something really off putting and not knowing what to do about it. Story of my life, but really. I wish I was better at this. Relationships. Human interaction in any regard, really.”

“Is it about Dal?” He asked knowingly, and Brendon nodded with slight resistance. “Yeah, I figured. A lot of things about him are off putting. We fall for him over and over anyway, but we still don’t understand why.”

“I wish I knew.” Brendon sighed too, but it was no use in wondering. He’d been trying to figure it out for a while. It was better to just accept it and appreciate Dallon for whatever it was worth. “Dallon told me that he’s starting therapy again.” He added after a second, though he figured Ryan already knew. “You think it’ll help?”

“I hope so. I mean, it never used to, but he’s older now. Smarter. I think he needs it. It’ll do him well.” He leaned back and looked over at him again, eyes searching, maybe for Brendon’s trust though he knew he already had that. “I’ve been in therapy since I was a kid, you know.” He told him like he had assumed Dallon had mentioned it.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I started when I was twelve, after what happened to me. The doctors told my mom that it would be best so I just kept going for a while after that. Still do. I really like it. I think it’s important to sort out your feelings like that. Make sense of everything in a safe space and have someone help you rationalize. You blame yourself less when someone’s telling you not to. That can be really good for Dallon.”

“I hope it is. I just...” He shifted his weight, but the thought was heavy on his shoulders no matter how he sat. “I want him to be okay.”

“He will be.” Ryan assured him, and if there was one thing about Ryan it was that he knew those things. That it would be okay. It was like he had the ability to make it so. “Dallon’s been through a lot, Brendon, you know? If none of that killed him then whatever he’s going through now won’t.”

“The thing is, he doesn’t seem to, like... know.” He started awkwardly, hesitantly, but Ryan only raised a brow and urged him to elaborate. “I think subconsciously, he’s always self-deprecating. But right now, he’s so happy. I just wish that wasn’t temporary.”

“I think the idea of succeeding at something validates him.” Ryan figured, but that was true for anyone. “But you’re right, y’know, about that subconsciousness. Once you condition yourself...”

“It’s hard to stop believing it.” Brendon finished for him, knowing too well what that was like. “I guess the temporary things matter. Things like this. Getting his gallery. This confidence.”

“I think so too.” Ryan agreed, and went to make a little sandwich out of the crackers. “When we were nine, Dallon told me that his dream was to be a successful artist. Mine was to live in a house made out of candy, so I was pretty impressed by that.” Brendon laughed, and Ryan smiled back at him. “He’s really talented, huh?”

“He really is.” Brendon agreed, because he was. He really was. It was intimidating how talented Dallon could be. How much power he had with his skill. “I can’t believe a naked photo of me is up in a public gallery.”

Ryan burst out laughing and Brendon did too, catching the attention of a few strangers but not bothering to apologize. “Don’t worry. You look good. And it’s his way of showing you off. Being defiant.” He punched Brendon’s wrist, noticing that his smile was fading again, never lasting too long. “Hey, don’t worry so much about him. He’s got us. He’s gonna be fine.”

Brendon nodded, but didn’t say how fine he realized Dallon really wasn’t. “I guess. I just... I wish he could keep that happiness. That pride in himself.”

Ryan nodded, and looked back at the open doorway as if Dallon was there, listening in and taking notes. Trying to be better, though they all knew the score. “If only it were that easy.” He said, and Brendon wished for that, too.

* * *

Brendon checked himself out in the rearview mirror until Dallon approached the car, smiling like he’d caught him and accepting the keys as he’d given them to Brendon to let himself in while Dallon used the bathroom inside the restaurant. With the excitement of the gallery opening dying down it was nice for them to celebrate alone together, that and their one year anniversary having come so quickly it almost snuck by.

Dallon parked in front of the closed diner to drop Brendon off but what had meant to be a goodnight kiss turned into something more, and then Brendon had Dallon’s cheek in his hand and he was leaning over the middle console, letting Dallon nibble at his lips whenever he went in to kiss him again. His mouth was raw and stung after they’d been in there for God knows how long, though he laughed at the pain and kissed him again because after everything, that was nothing.

“I can’t believe you showed a picture of me naked,” Brendon whispered against his lips at some point when they parted for air. Dallon laughed, playing with the short strands of hair on the back of his head. Brendon’s skin was electric to his touch, buzzing with sudden desire, bone craving desire from a boy who had never intended to let things go so far, though they had long since. Somewhere along the line Dallon decided that he was playing for keeps now.

“I know. But you.” He paused to press warm, swollen lips to Brendon’s. “Are. So. Hot.” Each word was interrupted with a kiss that sent chills down Brendon’s spine and he laughed into the warmth of his mouth, smiling dreamily with his eyes shut as Dallon tugged on his hair. “I think the world deserves to see that. But not all of it. There are some parts that are only for me.”

With his fist still tangled in dark brown locks he guided Brendon’s head to the side and kissed down the side of his neck, lips brushing his throat, leaving a wet trail in his wake. He traveled past the smooth curve of his shoulder and settled his mouth on his collarbone, pushing his shirt down to expose skin and traces of bruises that had yet to fade. Brendon threw his head back and sighed when Dallon’s teeth marked him, claimed him, bruised his skin and made it sore. What a fucking tease, though it held more purpose than that. It always did. With Dallon, it always did.

“You’re mine.” He whispered against the mark before he pressed a kiss to it and pulled away to meet Brendon’s eyes again, blown wide, pupils dilated. Feeling a little sinister, Dallon placed a hand on the side of his face and brushed his thumb against his bottom lip, puffy and red with the taste of cherry chapstick and appreciation. “Yeah?”

Brendon nodded his head a little too insistently. He would be whatever Dallon wanted him to be. “Yeah. Yes.”

Dallon smiled, satisfied, and caught his lips in one more kiss. “Good boy.” He stroked his cheek lovingly, tantalizingly, making Brendon shiver. The overhead light was illuminating Dallon’s face in the otherwise dark car, casting shadows Brendon wouldn’t bother to hide in. “I should get home, but I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll continue this later, hm?”

Brendon nodded. “Mhm.” He tugged his shirt up to hide what he had left of the bruises and the new mark Dallon had left for Brendon to think about, head spinning, heart beating. He climbed out of the car and circled around it, where Dallon was waiting with the window open to say goodbye.

Brendon’s dark eyes lingered on Dallon’s as he leaned over to look at him. Dallon smirked, fucking smirked, and Brendon’s heart was pounding loud in his chest when Dallon’s eyes flickered from Brendon’s to his lips. His fucking lips. They looked so damn good all red and raw and swollen. They looked good when he was on his knees too, but neither of them would mention it, though they were both thinking it. Of course they were. They’d had a pretty intimate night together, after all.

But Dallon had to get home, and that desire had to wait. “Bye, sexy.”

Brendon half smiled. “Bye.” The word came out quiet, but just as sincere as he had meant it. Dallon put the car in drive, and Brendon added, “Wait, Dal.” Dallon looked back up at him, and he smiled a real smile, overwhelmed but in a good way. “I’m really, really proud of you, baby.”

Dallon smiled back, a flicker of pride in his eyes. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done any of it without you.” He winked, didn’t say that he was proud of himself too. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you will.” Brendon turned toward the door that led upstairs, and only when he was completely turned away from Dallon did he let out a sigh into the cool air of the night. Dallon... he was good.

He stepped upstairs and kicked off his sneakers in the front room, where the silence of the house reached him. He hadn’t realized how late it had gotten; time had slipped away from him. It wasn’t often that he got out of his head for a night. Tonight, he was happy. His tongue darted out to lick at his sore bottom lip, and he was happy.

“Hey, kid.” Matt called to him from the living room, where he was using a game console or another on the TV, taking advantage of the night’s silence.

“Hey.” Brendon approached the couch wearily, starting to unbutton the button-up he wore because he wasn’t used to them. “Everyone asleep?”

“Uh-huh. I wanted to stay up. Not tired yet.” He nodded his head toward the TV, and Brendon half smiled as he took a seat on the opposite side of the couch. Matt dipped his head to watch him stretch out like a cat before its nap, preparing for a few hours of sleep. “Hey, I saw that picture Dallon had up of you at the gallery.”

“The Rainbow Boy?” Brendon asked, his slight apprehension melted completely into exhaustion, and Matt nodded. Of course. Everyone had seen it. Had seen him. “Yeah, everyone did.”

“Don’t be embarrassed about it. It was cool.” Was Brendon blushing? He hadn’t realized that he was still so embarrassed. He shrugged, he guessed it was pretty cool, and Matt added, “I mean it. I liked it. Dal’s talented. And I mean, I’m not trying to assume, but that photo... sex stuff?”

Brendon snorted at how blatant he could be sometimes, though more educated than he had been two years ago. “Yeah. It, um. It was the first time that we did anything since what happened to me. He was painting and we were talking and it just... happened.” He smiled to himself when he caught sight of his older brother smiling back at him. With a half laugh, he added, “I think I have a paint kink, too.”

Matt smiled, not bothering to analyze him because Brendon found himself not making much sense lately. “So are you guys doing better than you were last month?”

“Yeah. A lot better. Thank you for asking.” They nodded in solidarity in that way they did so often when they shared their nighttime camaraderie. He wasn’t entirely sure it was the truth, there will still things he didn’t know, or things he did know and Dallon didn’t, he supposed. But they were fine. They were totally fine. “I’m gonna go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure. Night, Bren.”

“Night.” He offered a smile and disappeared upstairs, his arms gravitating to his own body in a hug. He was happy. He was happy. He was happy. This was what happy felt like.

The next morning Brendon lingered around tiredly when he got ready, not bothering to make himself look presentable because he’d gone to bed late and it wasn’t like it mattered, everyone at school already had enough to say about him. He pulled on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, his favorite pink one, and washed his face because of a stress induced breakout and stared himself in the eye and sighed, wishing he could fast forward through it all.

By the time Brendon reached his second class of the day he’d heard all about it, the town’s art gallery’s opening with the art fair at Wilbur park, he and Dallon had explored for a while before they headed to the restaurant. And a lot of people knew of Dallon Weekes, between the rumors and his mother’s store and his father’s death and what had happened to his boyfriend. And now that his art was in the gallery... it was a big deal. And he was worth all the words and praise and wondering.

But still, Brendon felt affronted when a girl he was friendly with in his astronomy class said something to him about how she liked the photo of him that Dallon had up, the one she saw when she visited the gallery. And just like that, it was like he was on display.

Oh, right. He was.

He would have been worried about the perpetuation of gay stereotypes or the fact that people would judge him for having sex and displaying it so proudly or something in that vein, but the funny part was that he didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. Everyone knew what happened in the school bathroom a few weeks after Halloween, after all. That his soul was stolen and his faith in humanity had been kidnapped. If he hadn’t already been labeled as the faggot slut that everybody saw him as, then there was no doubt he would be now.

And he didn’t want to care. He agreed when he got comments about how talented Dallon was, he exchanged knowing smiles with him in the hallway when they crossed paths, he said hi when they saw each other in class. He acted just as he did when the whole school didn’t know he was sleeping with a boy. And to be fair Dallon never advertised it with the title “The Boy I Just Fucked on The Floor of My Room”, but it was heavily implied.

But if he could deal with what he’d been dealing with for months, he could deal with the school knowing about his sex life. Even when he got a few rude comments that made him slow down just a minute. Brendon knew he didn’t have the liberty to care about that anymore.

Except he kind of did. He had to. How could he not? For years he’d been conditioned to think that being gay was wrong. Sodomites were going to hell. That was what people said to him when he came out at school, word got around pretty quickly and everyone had an opinion. Most of his peers were okay with it, not that it was something for them to be okay with, but there were a select few that had nothing nice to say. Personally, Brendon believed that they shouldn’t say anything at all, but these were kids who never cared for the rules.

Instead he had to deal with slurs and whispered insults, being called a faggot when he held hands with his boyfriend in the hallway. His heart pounded and blood rushed in his ears, his fight or flight taking initiative, but Dallon never reacted, only tightened his grip on Brendon’s hand and said nothing.

He was a brick wall sometimes, unreasonably stoic, but Brendon had never been as strong as him. He didn’t go to his room after school and cry into his pillow like he had done in the past each time he heard something rude or saw a tantalizing comment on his social media pages, it hadn't gotten that bad again since he knew he had been through worse, but they simply nagged at him in the back of his mind for a while after they had happened.

In light of recent events, his notions about stigma surrounded homosexuality were lingering in his mind again, a relic of an apparition that had always haunted him. It was hardly fair that when he had reached a patch of feeling okay, he was suddenly back to that state of mind where he should feel bad about what he was doing, like maybe he was just a stereotype and he was wrong. The stitches had been pulled off and now it was just a fresh wound.

Brendon got the slip for the guidance counselor’s office at the same time as he usually did, to talk to Ms. Kenny about himself, his week and his progress and how he was feeling. But today he was feeling a little better, not as great as he could be but certainly not terrible. He made his way to her office at the suggested time, pinching the slip in between his thumb and index finger, and only pocketed it when he pushed open the door and waved. She waved back, glad to see him, and gestured to the seat he usually occupied.

He was just about to greet her when something caught her eye, and her thin eyebrows knit together in worry. “Are you okay?” She asked suddenly, and he sat back in his seat, confused.

Slowly, he nodded, skepticism settling on his features. “Yeah...? Why?”

“You, um.” She gestured to her own neck with pink painted fingernails with a worried look in warm eyes, and he reached up to touch his skin. His fingers pressed down against the sore flesh and he remembered suddenly, the bruises, the way Dallon refused to go easy on him.

His eyes widened and he covered them with his hand. He’d tried to put some of Kyla’s makeup on them that morning and he was kind of hoping that his sweatshirt would hide his failed attempt just fine. Or that no one would notice. “Oh. No. I’m fine.” He assured her.

She gave him a look like she didn’t buy it. “Are you sure? If somebody’s hurting you, Brendon, you can tell me. I promise, this is a safe space.”

“No, I swear, no one is hurting me. Um.” He looked down at his lap and fiddled with the drawstrings of his hoodie. It was a safe space, he knew that. A place where he could be himself and get anything off his chest. It was therapy. He could tell her anything. Especially about his progress. And this counted as progress. It just felt weird to talk about anyway. “I actually... I slept with Dallon for the first time since July. In December we tried, but I freaked out and had a panic attack or something and I couldn’t do it. But we did it Friday and... I was fine. I think that’s really good progress.”

“Oh. That is good progress.” She sat back, intrigued. And he got it, he was probably a confusing case. One day he was stirring with anxiety and the next he was letting his self-confidence manifest itself in having sex and being proud of it, and even managing to push away the few rude comments he’d gotten. “So... you’re okay?”

He nodded a little too quick to prove his point, leaning forward to rest his feet flat on the floor. “Yes. I promise. The bruises are... not from anything bad. I’ll leave it at that.” He stared back down at his lap to avoid her unreadable look. “I thought I wouldn’t ever be able to do it again, like Shane had ruined me or something, but I guess it took a little longer than just a few weeks. I’m kind of figuring out what I want. You know, with him. And I realized that I’m okay with sex, but I won’t always be. It just depends. So... yeah. Uh. Sorry for talking about my sex life.”

“No, Brendon, it’s okay. I don’t want intimate details or anything, but you should feel like you can talk to me about anything, sex included.” She promised, and he guessed it was a safe space. He smiled gratefully, nodding, and she clicked her pen. “So tell me how you feel about this. What are you thinking? What’s on your mind?”

He played with the hem of his sweatshirt as he thought hard about it. How did he feel? So much was running through his mind lately. “Um, Dallon had his gallery opening and there was a photo of me up there. And something I find really crazy is that up until the early nineties, it was illegal for two men to have sex in the state of Nevada. That’s something I read online before I came out. I used to be scared that even thinking about boys was going to get me arrested or in trouble or whatever. And it happened before I was born and everything, so it shouldn’t be that big of a deal to me, but I think it’s really sad that a thirteen-year-old boy had to be scared of getting in trouble for liking boys. People still make me feel like shit about it. I’m— I’m proud of who I am and I’m proud of my relationship but that doesn’t take away from the stigma and the rumors and everything.”

“Such as...?”

He squirmed in his seat, thinking too much about his place again. “There’s a stigma that all gay men are obsessed with sex. I’m not obsessed with sex, I’m really not. I sleep with my boyfriend whenever I‘m inclined to do so. But— you know. At the gallery. He had a picture of me and I was naked except I was holding a paint palette over anything revealing and it’s kind of a long story but it’s obvious that I had sex. And I don’t care that Dallon used the picture, but now it’s hitting me all over again. I’m always gonna be seen as a stereotype. And it’s not fair. It doesn’t bother me as much as it used to— like, I used to cry about it and everything, but I guess now— now I’m just numb to the fact that I’m thought of as someone who’s wrong.”

“Well, you and I both know that you’re not wrong, Brendon.”

“No, I know. But it’s still sad that I’m conditioned to think that I am. Don’t get me wrong, though, being gay isn’t a problem for me, in terms of my being okay with it. I never thought that I needed to hide it or pretend it wasn’t true and neglect the real me. And everyone close to me has always been supportive. But not everyone’s always gonna be like that. I feel like after this gallery thing, it’s like I’m parading the fact that I’m sleeping with another man and it’s feeling a little like a rebellion at this point. I mean, doesn’t that make sense? Someone called me a faggot today at lunch. I was sitting with four other queer people and he called me a faggot, and that’s cause I was the one displaying my sex life. It makes sense to feel like rebelling.”

“That does make sense.”

“Right. And I realized that things are never gonna be fair. I’m gonna sleep with men and talk about my relationship and go to pride parades and I’m gonna be married and have children one day and I’m still gonna have a label stuck on me.”

It settled right then, right in the center of Brendon’s stomach. Right where his anxiety has gathered up and made a home. Maybe he had been fit into a box by society, and he hadn’t realized it until now. But it was a box he didn’t want to be in, a negative one, a detrimental label that would follow him forever. But how did he get out when he was so deep, he couldn’t even see the light at the end of the tunnel?

“I guess what I’m saying is that I’m coming to terms with the fact that things are always gonna be different for me. No matter how often I have sex and who with, they’re gonna call me a faggot and a slut. I’m gonna be considered different, my future neighbors will comment on how brave it is that I’m living an alternative lifestyle, I’ll get weird looks when I correct people and say no, not my wife, my husband. I’m married to a man. People will ask who’s the girl in the relationship and we’ll play around and say that it’s me, we do that sometimes, like an on-running joke. But then we’ll get home and he’ll ask me if I’m okay and I know it won’t bother me like it should and I’ll say I’m fine and then I’ll think about it when I’m alone and I’ll be reminded that people are still ignorant and sometimes those things can’t be changed. I mean, I don’t even get sexual education. It’s as if I’m not seen as somebody who should be having sex because it’s gross and wrong. How will I ever get tolerance? I’m not gross or wrong because of who I love. I’m just me.”

“You have some very strong feelings on how the world views you and your sexuality.” She noted, and Brendon nodded, he guessed he did. “How does Dallon feel about this?”

He shrugged half-heartedly and leaned back in his chair post-rant. “I don’t think he cares. Dallon kind of marches to the beat of his own drum. He never cared what people said about him, he thinks that you can’t let words affect you if you don’t pay any mind to them. He’s just got this fuck all of you, here I am attitude toward everything.”

“He’s a strong man in that regard.” She commended with a nod of her head. And yeah, he was. He really was. “That’s good though, Brendon. You balance each other out. You care too much about what others think and he doesn’t care at all. It sounds cliché, but you could probably learn a thing or two from someone who doesn’t let anyone get to him.”

Brendon looked at her a minute while he contemplated whether or not to be offended. He decided not to, because it made sense, didn’t it? Take advice from someone who had it figured out. Or maybe not figured out, Dallon was far from it, but someone who had it more figured out than Brendon, anyway.

“Okay. Yeah.” He agreed, and tried to remind himself that at this point, anything would help.

* * *

Brendon tapped his statistics textbook anxiously with his pencil, staring down at the equations and trying to make sense of it though he couldn’t. He had no idea what was going on, and they had a test tomorrow, and he wanted to burn the book and forget it existed but he couldn’t so he stared until everything was jumbled, and nothing seemed to make it make any more sense.

“Fuck this.” Brendon announced suddenly, slamming the textbook shut. “I fucking hate stats. I’m done. I’ll do this later. What are you doing? That’s not homework, is it?”

“Oh, no.” Dallon looked down at his sketchbook, and Brendon went to push his textbook into his bag. “No, uh. I had this idea to do a graphic novel. Kinda just... I kinda just thought of it the other day. Y’know, I crossed one bridge, wanna cross another.”

“Huh.” Brendon smiled, and Dallon closed his notebook to slide into his backpack. “I think that’s a really good idea, babe. I mean, you have the talent for it. And after the year ends you’ll have the time. You have great ideas and you know how to execute them.” He went to kiss him, not bothering to keep a professional distance. “Everything you do amazes me because I’m biased but I think it might be a good way to, y’know. Expand your horizons.”

“Yeah, you’re right, Urie.” He agreed, smiling this little smile. He slid a hand up Brendon’s arm, and only then did he realize there were bruises on his collarbone, peeking out from the neckline of his tee shirt. He looked down at his lap to hide the blush forming on his cheeks when he realized that Dallon was examining him, brushing his thumb gently over the biggest of the bruises, beside the one he had marked with his teeth. Quietly, Dallon asked, “I did this?”

Brendon nodded timidly, thinking about it again just like that. “I liked it, though.”

Dallon’s lips twitched into a smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And, um.” His gaze found his lap again, embarrassed to even say it. “Last night you said that we can continue where we left off. And I don’t think anyone will bother us, not while I’m trying to study, and last night’s been driving me crazy.” He brought his fingers up to start unbuttoning Dallon’s shirt, and he tilted his head downward to watch the nimble extremities while Brendon moved in. His lips hovered close to Dallon’s, breath wavering, but he didn’t let them touch.

Dallon smirked, Brendon could tell without looking. His eyes had slipped shut against flushed cheekbones as he blushed wildly at the thought of Dallon marking his body, holding him close, leaving fingerprint shaped bruises on his skin. He hadn’t meant to, but Brendon insisted more, harder, baby, fuck, and Dallon couldn’t deny him. Nothing more had happened, just messy kisses that left them both a wreck, but Dallon had to know that Brendon was hard when he got out of the car. He had to know that he had been squirming since.

Breathing out against his mouth, Dallon answered in a voice so low and masculine that it shot straight to Brendon’s abdomen. “Well, that certainly wasn’t the intention.”

“Wasn’t it?” Brendon whispered euphorically, and Dallon let out a laugh. So he’d been caught red handed. Red cheeked, red lipped.

Dallon leaned forward to brush his nose against Brendon’s cheek lovingly, a well thought out gesture, but his hands went to steal Brendon’s away from where they were fumbling blindly with the buttons of his shirt, and he’d only managed to get about three unbuttoned. He kept his eyes fixated downward, pressing his forehead to Brendon’s. “Your family’s home. We can’t get away with anything. Not without our fists in our mouths, anyway.”

Brendon smiled dreamily. Dallon’s hands were warm, enclosed around his own, and his body heat was radiating off of him. “Well, from my experience, your hands are very talented. Not much they can’t let us get away with. And besides, you can’t kiss a boy like you did last night and expect him not to be horny out of his goddamn mind.”

Dallon smiled languidly, like he was suddenly all hazy. Dizzy in love, maybe. Caught again. “So maybe it was a little intentional.”

Brendon laughed, shaking against him, noses brushing and lips mere centimeters apart. Just one kiss would do, one kiss that led to another kiss and another and another until they were too caught up in each other, limbs entwined, hearts beating loud under exposed chests that they would kiss and mark up and bite to get a reaction. Exchanging body heat like they were one entity, of course they were, Brendon couldn’t tell what scent was him and what was Dallon. He couldn’t tell who started the string of kisses they’d shared a night prior, tucked in the front seat of Dallon’s car on a vacant road.

But Dallon was right, Brendon’s family was home. And he couldn’t take that big of a risk. So instead, he slid his hands down over Dallon’s stomach and began to unbuckle his belt. Dallon opened his mouth to protest, but Brendon huffed out a request before he could even formulate words. “Let me suck you off.”

Dallon let out a breath, eyes flickering up to meet his, darker than usual and coaxing, convincing. “Think that’s a good idea?”

Brendon let out another laugh as if that were the funniest damn thing he’d ever heard and pushed himself out of bed. “No, that’s what makes it fun.”

Without another word he placed a hand on Dallon’s side and leaned down to crash their lips together again hungrily, tongues brushing against each other like they were greeting each other after far too long. Brendon managed to coerce him into sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to take some semblance of control, but he knew Dallon and they both knew the score. Dallon reached up to tangle his fingers in the hair on the back of his head, pushing back against his mouth like it was a battle, using his grip on his hair to guide him to his liking.

But Brendon’s mouth attacked back, revenge for making him think about those goddamn kisses in the front seat of his car all goddamn day, though he knew this would happen. He and Dallon always had an understanding. And that effervescence in his stomach made him warm to the core, reminded him that those feelings of pruriency that had made themselves his best friend during the summer were slowly creeping back in. He needed to make up for all their lost time.

Brendon’s hands flew to Dallon’s waist to finish unbuckling his belt and palm him sloppily, get him hard enough, though that was fucking useless considering the fact that he was getting there already. He just let his mouth fall open when euphoria shot up his entire body, Brendon’s hand pushing down against him, and Brendon’s lips met his once more after a short pause, just to breathe. He needed to breathe. He couldn’t. Didn’t want to. Dallon’s mouth was so much more enticing.

He fumbled with the belt, the one fucking day that Dallon chose to wear a belt, too much clothing in the way, and finally managed to get it loose when Dallon’s fingers bumped awkwardly against his, trying to help. He tossed it across the bed half-heartedly and leaned in, his tongue licking Dallon’s desperately.

Dallon was breathing heavy against Brendon’s mouth as the boy palmed him through his jeans, the layers of denim and cotton just a useless barrier that couldn’t keep Brendon from what he wanted. The way Dallon kissed him over and over until his lips were swollen, how his lips claimed his skin with kisses and bites and bruises that not even a popped collar or makeup could hide, the way he kept coming back for more even when their mouths had had enough. Their hearts, though, they never knew when to stop.

Parting from his lips even when Dallon’s chased his needily, Brendon dropped to his knees so hard that Dallon was worried the thump would catch the attention of his family downstairs. But Brendon didn’t seem to pay any mind to the consequences because he was already unbuttoning Dallon’s jeans, tugging the zipper down, tapping him on the side to get him to lift his hips. He pulled at his jeans and boxers until they were halfway down his thighs, and then Dallon helped him slide them completely off. With pupils blown, Brendon leaned down to press kisses to the insides of his thighs when he spread his legs open.

“Gonna try not to fuck it up this time.” Brendon muttered, referencing one day over the summer where he had tried and failed, but the look he was giving Dallon was absolutely fucking gorgeous. Cheeks flushed, unkempt hair falling in his eyes, his bottom lip nestled in his teeth. Fuck it up? He could fuck it up all he wanted.

It should have been embarrassing, the way Brendon’s gag reflex caught him, scolded him, the pained look on his face when his jaw or his knees or his throat ached, because giving head wasn’t even that sexy. It just wasn’t. But everything Brendon did was so damn charming to Dallon, anyway.

“As long as you don’t choke and puke on me, I’m good.” Dallon huffed out while Brendon leaned in to brush his nose against the inside of Dallon’s thigh.

“You’re setting some low standards, Dallon. And that’s real fuckin’ sexy.” He smiled up at him, catching catch the smile Dallon gave him too, the reference to an exchange during their first time not lost on him. And as Brendon leaned in and nosed the soft, pale flesh on the inside of Dallon’s thigh, that smile darkened, and Dallon moved a hand from the mattress to Brendon’s head. He tangled his fingers in Brendon’s hair and tugged, a guilty pleasure he’d never admit to, and Brendon took that as initiative to make his move.

He wrapped his fingers around the base and Dallon swallowed thickly, watching Brendon’s lips around him, taking him like he needed him more than oxygen. Months ago he had been so nervous, so willing, kneeling in front of Dallon on his bedroom floor. And now he was only willing, and something about the risk of being caught got to him. Made him weak.

He dipped his head to get more of him in his mouth, playing around with his hands to tease him, brushing his fingers over Dallon’s thighs, making him throw his head back and moan into his hand while Brendon figured out his sensitive spots, what made him sweat.

He made it further and Dallon bit back a smile, looked up at the ceiling because Brendon was trying and he was on his knees for him and he didn’t even have any dignity anymore, so Dallon wouldn’t laugh. He wouldn’t laugh, even though Brendon couldn’t take any more of him, even though the way his nose scrunched up made him look like a bunny, even though he tried so hard to be sexy but he was just fucking cute.

Brendon pulled off all of a sudden, frustrated, urging a grinning Dallon to look down at his indignant glare with flushed cheeks and— fuck, had he been laughing? “Look, Weekes, I understand that my lack of cock sucking ability is the height of comedy for you, but if you want to come then stop laughing at me. Don’t make me bite you.”

“That a promise?” Dallon asked, and Brendon tilted his head, half smiling in defeat. “I’m not laughing cause you’re bad at it, Bren. I’m laughing cause you’re so adorable. Sometimes I can’t help it.” He cupped his cheek, thumbed his cheekbone. Remembered that Brendon was Brendon and it was all part of the charm.

“I’m on my knees sucking you off and you think I’m adorable?” Brendon retorted defiantly, and Dallon laughed, warm and goodhearted, but still. He wasn’t trying to be adorable. He was trying... well, his intentions were pretty clear. “You’re weird.”

“Come on. Look at you.” Dallon cooed playfully, pinching Brendon’s cheek. “Look at your little face.”

“Stop.” Brendon whined, but there was no bite to it. No malice. Just a smile, a sardonic one all the same.

“Cutest little baby.”

“Stop!” Brendon laughed, scrunched up his nose and made a biting gesture. Made Dallon laugh too as he slid his hand up again and into Brendon’s hair, damp with sweat already and a little too long, he needed a haircut, but more to grab onto, he guessed. And he scratched a little, admired Brendon longingly for a second, all pink cheeks and red lips and pupils blown, blown, blown. “Promise you won’t make fun of me.”

“I promise, kitten.” Dallon whispered, pressing the heel of his hand to Brendon’s temple, suddenly a little more desperate than he’d let on. Brendon leaned in again, and Dallon guided his head, whispered that he was such a good boy when he sucked on the head like he knew he did best. And no, Dallon wouldn’t make fun of him. Dallon wouldn’t laugh.

Dallon’s fingers tightened in his hair again when Brendon’s mouth took him, hot and wet, his lips swollen, soft and welcoming and so goddamn euphoric. Brendon pulled off to kitten lick at the tip, testing his boundaries, and grinned up at his writhing boyfriend. And yeah, he was adorable, but sometimes he was so...

“Better?” He requested praise, voice rough with want.

“Mhm.” He slid a hand down Brendon’s face and swiped a thumb over his cheek lovingly, much better. Stick to your strengths, you know. “You been online?”

“How’d you know?” Brendon giggled and ran his fingers up and down Dallon’s length slowly, lazily, making him shiver with anticipation. And Brendon shouldn’t have been so turned on by this, the sight of this, the feeling of this. It just seemed so... degrading, being on his knees for someone. Surrendering his power. Taking another guy in his mouth. It shouldn’t have been so appealing, but then again Dallon had that effect on him.

It wasn’t degrading. Not with him. Not with Dallon. “You haven’t exactly been practicing, I assume.” He breathed out, body wired and begging for more.

“Just wanted to be better than last time. Everything’s an improvement, I guess.” He circled his tongue languidly, and yes, everything was an improvement. The way long eyelashes fluttered as he looked up at him innocently, anything but innocent, stretched, wet, red lips and sweaty bangs in his face.

Brendon had no idea. “You don’t know what you do to me, Urie.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Weekes.” Brendon breathed, and then he was leaning in again, sliding one hand up to dig short fingernails into the pliable skin on Dallon’s hip.

Dallon exhaled tremulously when Brendon squeezed the base with his hand, swirled his tongue around the head, smiled to himself when he pulled away. And maybe he wasn’t perfect but Dallon sure as hell thought so, because it wasn’t how he did it that mattered. It wasn’t the fact that he couldn’t just drop to his knees and take all of him at once, hit the back of his throat without gagging and make him come within seconds because his mouth just felt that good. It was that he was doing it at all, and he was happy to, because he wasn’t even trying to please his own ego in thinking that he could get someone off. He just wanted to please Dallon.

Dallon’s breathing hitched when Brendon experimented, teased him with awkward fingers, swallowed half of him before he aimed his focus elsewhere. He was so hard, made him sweat just thinking about it. As he moved up and down steadily, Dallon watched the way his eyelashes fluttered over his flushed red cheeks, lips shiny. He was fucking gorgeous. So fucking gorgeous.

Brendon looked up at him with the most seductive face he could muster— fuck if he was adorable— before he slid his hands up to dig his nails into his bare hips, urging a groan from Dallon that shot straight to Brendon’s abdomen. And Dallon thrusted with the motion of the way Brendon bobbed his head, minuscule juts that allowed Brendon to find rhythm with the tiny, short movements.

And oh, god. God. Brendon mewled, felt himself reacting to the way Dallon’s hips moved upward into his mouth. He let Brendon swallow as much of him as he could before he pulled off to lick at his pink lips and adjust his pained jaw impatiently. No one ever talked about how badly your jaw would feel when you gave someone head. A small price to pay for pleasure, he guessed.

“Oh, god. Yes, fuck.” Dallon’s eyes fell shut when Brendon’s lips brushed the head once more before he pulled off to press wet kisses down his length, a sign of worship, as if he were something holy. And, well, there Brendon was, down on his knees.

Brendon moaned against him, sending shivers up Dallon’s spine. He gasped, and Brendon began to suck again, this time with more vigor and far more intention. He wanted to get Dallon off. He wanted him to remember the way his mouth felt forever.

Dallon’s heavy breathing was a warning, Brendon could already tell he was on edge, even before he huffed out a quiet, “Brendon, m’gonna come.”

Brendon just curled his fingers over the base and stroked vehemently as he hollowed his cheeks and kept sucking, licking at him until his body jerked and he involuntarily thrusted into Brendon’s mouth. And Brendon moaned, couldn’t fucking help it, and when Dallon was completely spent, Brendon didn’t know what else to do so he just swallowed what hadn’t spilled out of his mouth and dribbled down his chin, the bitter taste painting the inside of his mouth. But it was Dallon, it was familiar.

Dallon reached out desperately for his boy, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, looking like a vision and a little like he was made to do this, to be on his knees. He let Dallon’s hands grab at him until he was in his grasp, and then he laid him on his back against the mattress and held him down to kiss him.

“Fuck, I love you on your knees.” Dallon muttered under his breath as he reached out to get the waist of Brendon’s sweatpants in his grip. He pulled them off in one smooth gesture and tossed them to the side, revealing that when he’d changed after school, he neglected to keep his boxers on. Dallon examined the sight in front of him, Brendon ready and waiting, just for him. “You sneaky little fucker.”

Brendon let out a laugh. Sneaky, maybe, but he got what he wanted. Dallon shifted so that he was closer, and just as Brendon’s giggle had begun to fade into the heat of the room above him, Dallon pushed both of his legs up against his chest so that he was completely exposed, totally vulnerable, but he didn’t care like he had in the past. No, Dallon was his. He was Dallon’s. He knew that now more than ever. He swore that he would do anything Dallon said if he said it with his hands.

Dallon’s breathing was quick as he leaned down to catch Brendon’s lips in a kiss, red and shiny with spit and come, before he sat back up and looked around. No lube, that was okay. He could work with that. Desperate to get him off, Dallon slid his fingers into his mouth and sucked for a second. He pulled them out and pushed his hand in between Brendon’s legs.

He pushed his finger in with no lube, no warning, and Brendon gasped out loud when the single extremity filled him up. A sickening burn accompanied the thrusts of his finger, but he loved it. The burn, the pain, the heat that tore through his stomach as Dallon slid his finger out and pressed his middle finger against the forefinger before he forced them back in. He fucking loved it.

“Dallon, oh fuck. Oh god.” Brendon was frantic, spreading his legs and bucking his hips, muscles quivering and thighs clenching. His muscles tightened around the fingers like they were welcoming them home, and Dallon shushed him as his hand began to move faster, harder.

Something in Brendon’s stomach stirred and his head fell back against his pillows. His body was aching with want, and Dallon rubbed the tight ring of muscle, where a desperate burn radiated and begged for attention. He needed him there, the desire was centered right there, he needed to be full, fast, so fucking fast. When he pushed in again, Brendon’s mouth fell open, and just as he was about to moan Dallon placed his free hand over Brendon’s mouth. A power move.

The penetration wasn’t foreign and certainly wasn’t unwelcome, but the thrusting of two digits was intrusive and hot and wet and Brendon couldn’t help but eat up every second of it. His muscles gripped onto Dallon’s fingers when he pushed them in deeper, so goddamn deep, and then crooked his fingers. Brendon let out a cry of oh, god, yes against the palm of Dallon’s hand, but he wouldn’t pull it away. He didn’t trust Brendon to keep quiet.

The pressure in Brendon’s body was so hot, so needy, too goddamn tight, and Dallon was spreading him open as he finger fucked him to the edge. Brendon couldn’t help the noises he was letting out against his hand as Dallon’s fingers moved fast and slick inside of him, crooking deep inside and rubbing the sensitive spot until his muscles spasmed and tightened and clenched, a warning sign. He breathed heavily through his nose and moaned into the warmth of Dallon’s palm as he came undone, hips lifting off the mattress and coming like it had been a century since the last time he got off. He bit down on Dallon’s hand when he came.

When he was spent and out of breath and there were tears and sweat on his cheeks, he reached out to coax Dallon into a transient kiss as he pulled his fingers out, leaving them wet and aching. Brendon breathed out heavily, trying to get enough oxygen back into his lungs, and only when Dallon had slid his own boxers back on and looked back toward him did he stare in horror.

Dallon seemed to feel the same way, because his eyes widened and he brought a hand up to cover his mouth in disbelief. Fuck, oh fuck. Brendon scrambled to sit up, grabbed his sweatpants from the bed and pulled them on when the realization hit him that he let Dallon do... that when his family was home. His mother was downstairs making dinner. What if she had gone upstairs? Mother’s intuition. She would have been able to tell. That, and the smell of sex lingering in his room.

“I’m so sorry.” Dallon apologized, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe himself for doing that to Brendon in his own goddamn bed like some sort of sodomy deviant.

Brendon shook his head quickly, though his eyes were blown wide and he looked like he had seen a ghost. A ghost of a boy that had once been afraid of people, maybe, now a boy that welcomed intimacy with open arms on random Monday afternoons when he was just trying to study for statistics.

“No.” Brendon assured him. “No, don’t be sorry.”

“That was so fucking degrading. I’m so sorry.” He repeated as he pulled Brendon into a sudden hug, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders even when Brendon protested his apology. He was trembling, post-coital, and Brendon burrowed his chin against his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I love you and I respect you and I shouldn’t have-“

Brendon interrupted with a laugh. “Dal, you didn’t do anything! That was good. It was intense and I needed that.” He rubbed his back and pulled away to press a kiss to Dallon’s mouth. Dallon retracted his arms carefully, not convinced, but Brendon smiled, assured him that he was fine, placed a hand on the back of his neck. “Hey. Don’t apologize. We’ve been in a pretty good place in our relationship lately and, look— I wanna be more physical with you. I’m feeling okay with my body and besides, we have like, six months of having no sexual contact whatsoever to make up for. And listen.” He leaned closer, a tiny smile playing on his lips. “I love me on my knees too.”

Dallon half smiled, reaching up to brush his thumb against Brendon’s bottom lip. Brendon’s eyelashes fluttered against his pink cheeks, and Dallon’s gaze settled on his and then on his lips, still slick and swollen. “You taste like me. That’s kinda hot.”

Brendon giggled and once Dallon retracted his hand, he reached down to pull off his shirt and tossed it to the side, grabbing a tissue to clean himself off on the way back. “I know. I like it. And I know I can use some more practice and all, that was probably sympathy coming on your part, but at least I didn’t gag this time. Practice makes perfect though, y’know? In that case, we should do this more often.”

He let out another laugh, cheeks red and heart beating fast. “I think we should too.” He agreed, and that sounded perfect. “But hey, don’t underestimate yourself, babe. You did really well. You did perfect.” Brendon smiled, yeah, right, and okay. Maybe not perfect. Dallon laughed, he had a valid point. “Well, I mean, better than the first time. So much better than the first time. And, hey, you looked good, too.”

All of a sudden he reached out to slide a hand in Brendon’s hair and pulled him in for a kiss, startling him because he hadn’t been expecting it. Brendon relaxed against Dallon’s lips and let his eyes fall shut, he had gone so long without real contact and he needed this, feeling the gentle touch of his hand on the back of his neck as they kissed.

“I adore you, Bren. And I meant what I said. I respect you so much. Don’t let me order you around if you don’t want me to. You should set your limits and I’ll set mine.”

“Thank you. That’s really sweet. I respect you too.” Brendon wrapped an arm around his waist and buried his face in his shoulder, inhaling the smell of sweat and come and his body wash. Him. “I don’t mind you ordering me around. I like it, actually. A lot. And I mean, I want a fair balance between us out there, but I like when you take the reins.” He planted a kiss on the still warm skin and pulled away to tug Dallon close, closer, he was never too close. Brendon just needed their skin pressed together, needed him quietly and lovingly and in all his entirety. “Now hey, come on, come lay with me. I need to snuggle.”

Dallon abandoned his jeans and belt strewn about somewhere in the room and curled up against Brendon’s back, burying his face in the back of his neck. Their legs intertwined, and he rested his hand in Brendon’s against his bare abdomen.

He lifted his shoulders with a content sigh and smiled at the feeling of Dallon’s lips on his bare shoulder, body warm against his own, bare chest pressed against his back and an arm wrapped around his middle. “People were talking about you today. And us.” He whispered suddenly, looking around his room unseeingly.

Dallon hummed, nosing his shoulder so that he could feel the tiny stud against his skin, barely noticeable since he’d changed it. “Yeah? What were they saying?” He asked, and Brendon knew he wouldn’t care much about what everybody was saying, even when it was everywhere and barely escapable.

He stalled for a second, reaching out to pull his fuzzy blanket up toward his body, wondering just how somebody could tune out all the noise when it was so loud. Dallon shifted, pushing his foot in between Brendon’s ankles. How could anything be wrong about this? “About how you’re an incredible artist. Cause of the gallery, and everything. But that’s not all they were saying, y’know? It’s a small school and people talk.”

Dallon tightened his grip on his hand and slid them both up to place on Brendon’s chest. “What were they saying, Bren? Don’t beat around the bush. Beat the actual bush. Or better yet, don’t beat anything. Just tell me.” Another kiss on the shoulder made Brendon’s heart hurt. “My spidey-sense is telling me that you’re bothered by this.”

Brendon smiled at the dictum and closed his eyes when Dallon’s nose brushed against the back of his neck, his hair tickling him, and then settled. “Basically, people know that we’ve been having sex. And it’s not like it’s some big secret or anything, and I’m not ashamed of sleeping with you. But I’ve always been worried that I’m this walking stereotype, like people think I’m obsessed with sex and... I don't know. I used to be worse about it but over the years I’ve gotten used to being the subject of a lot of talk. And lately it’s like... between what happened after Halloween and this, people think I’m a slut.”

Dallon let go of his hand to stroke Brendon’s shoulder with his index finger knuckle, and Brendon knew what that meant. He was there and he was human and he wasn’t what people thought of him. Words were supposed to hold meaning, but that wasn’t mandatory. And sometimes they weren’t even needed at all. “You’re not a slut, Brendon. Having sex twice and a handful of other experiences— all with your serious boyfriend of a year— hardly puts you in the running for the school slut.”

“I know. And I know I’m not, but that’s what everyone thinks. And it takes me back to when I came out, and people made me think it was wrong to be gay. Back then it hurt more. I was a baby gay. But I also wasn’t having sex with a boy back then. And now I am and I’m thinking about how things will never change. No matter what I do or say, I’m always gonna be treated differently because I’m gay. That hurts.”

Dallon’s lips met the back of his neck like he were trying to make up for the cruelty of the world. This, what they had, people were always going to judge. But it was only theirs, and no amount of slurs or insinuations from strangers was going to change that. Dallon knew that, and Brendon was learning. Slowly, he was learning. “Well, no one ever said it’s gonna be easy. But I think it probably gets better with time. You shouldn’t listen to anyone, Brendon, not when they say things like this. They don’t know you.”

Brendon found it in him to smile, even when he felt like the world was trying to take it away from him. “They just know of me.”

Dallon slid a hand down his side and smiled too, right against his neck. The warmth of his words were sinking into his skin and making a home in his bloodstream, the gravity of them cutting bone. He shouldn’t worry about the rest of the world. The rest of the world could wait. Right now, Dallon would take it all from here. “Right.”

Still, he couldn’t help but worry. What people say about you is your legacy. It’s what you leave behind. It was bad enough that Brendon was labeled as the diner boy and all that entailed, but now he was forced to swallow a pill that was far too bitter. “Does it ever bother you? What people say? I know you say it doesn’t, but... I don’t— I don’t get it.”

He shook his head, and Brendon frowned to himself, realizing then that he had expected Dallon to feel the same as he did. “No, it really doesn’t. I don’t let it. I’ve been fucked over by this world enough times to learn that the only way things get better is if you make them get better. I have too much going on in my life to let what some stupid kids at school say bother me. I’m confident in who I am, what I like, who I like. I don’t need to shy away from it or be embarrassed or pretend I’m straight. This is the version of me I’m okay with. The real version. The one where I let boys give me head and finger them in return.” He tickled Brendon’s side, urging a quiet laugh. “You shouldn’t let it bother you either, sweetheart. I know you can’t help it and you worry but it’ll do you no good.”

Brendon needed to take that to heart. He needed to let it sink in, that he couldn’t let what a bunch of random teenagers said break him. There were weapons far worse than words and though they were lethal, Brendon had enough dignity to fight for himself. He couldn’t let them take away who he was, whoever that may be. “You’re right.”

"I know." Dallon nuzzled his nose in the crook of Brendon's neck. "Is it really bothering you that much? Because if anybody says anything to you, Brendon,"

"No need to defend my honor. I was just thinking..." He turned over in Dallon’s arms all of a sudden, and Dallon tilted his head with an eyebrow raised when Brendon settled down comfortably against his bicep. "I used to be so scared of being gay. When I was in middle school, stealing cheap makeup and hating myself. Thinking it was wrong that I thought about boys the way I should have been thinking about girls. And then things were okay, I told Ty and my family and I made my peace with the fact that I'm not totally like everyone else and that some people have a problem with that. Not everyone is gonna be okay with it."

Dallon moved a sweaty lock of hair out of his eyes. "I know."

Brendon nodded; he knew Dallon knew. That was the saddest part. No one should have to know. No one should have to understand that isolation. "And it sucks, because for a long time I wasn't scared of it. But now... fuck. I hate having to regress, Dal, but right now I'm scared. And I'm mad. Because I still don't know if my being assaulted was because I'm gay. And I know for a fact that that's why some people are so mean to me. Why people make up rumors about me and post about me on Twitter and say things in the halls and shove me around. It’s all because I’m gay. And now I'm just... I'm scared. And I haven't been this scared since I came out."

"You know, I know what you mean. Living with the fear of being different. Because figuring it out is one thing, and coming out is one thing, and then dealing with it for the rest of your life is a complete other thing. Because it might be easy coming out, or it might be hell, or it might be... I don't know, coming out is so multi-emotional." He ran a hand through his hair subconsciously, Brendon's eyes following. "I wasn't scared. I was just confused. And that was worse for me, because I couldn't do anything about it. And I don't know about you, I don't know about any other LGBTQ kid, but for me, this part is just as bad. Dealing with regrets and wishing you did things differently, hearing what people have to say about you, because everyone has opinions."

"And people's opinions are never what you want to hear, huh?" He half smiled, and Dallon smiled back, shaking his head no. "When I came out, I was just scared. I stuttered and almost cried and I was just... I was terrified. Why weren't you? Why were you confused?"

Dallon huffed out a quiet sigh when Brendon shifted in his arms, reaching up to thread his fingers through his hair. “I questioned my sexuality after my father died, Brendon. And I feel so bad about it. Because for months there was that possibility that I wasn’t gay and I had lied to him. I couldn’t live with myself then.”

Brendon frowned, biting at his bottom lip in thought. Dallon had mentioned fragments of his past that Brendon had tried to fit together one by one, those pieces of the puzzle, but things always seemed to fall out of place. Missing pieces, ones that were accidentally turned over. And it was getting harder to keep track of, sometimes. "Why'd you say you were gay if you didn't know?"

"I don't know.” He admitted. “And that's what haunts me, Bren, is that I said it and I didn't fully believe it. Because I wasn't even a freshman yet, I was in middle school and everyone is confused and questioning and self-doubting in middle school. I thought that I had things figured out, and I was thinking that maybe... I told my parents when I felt like I should. Because they were my best friends and I needed them to know what was going on. And I didn't think it was a big deal. Not until my dad died and I realized that what if he never knew his real son? What if I was wrong?"

"But you weren't."

"But I could have been.” He elucidated. “And that... that was hard to think about. I mean, I didn't even— I didn't know for sure, you know? I was trying to figure everything out just when my dad died and then I just went about it in a destructive way because I didn't know how else to do it. I mean, I didn't even come out to Ryan and Josh until the summer, and even then I didn't know. And I didn't know if I was just saying it to act out. If I was saying it for the wrong reasons."

Brendon watched his eyes, let his own flicker back and forth between the glistening blue ones in front of him. And he just searched for a second, because there were a million things he didn't know about Dallon and he realized just then that he needed to know more. He knew that they had secrets, everybody had secrets. Dallon had grown an enigma and some people never forgot where they came from. And it scared him, just then. "So how are you sure now?" He asked, and feared the answer.

Dallon shrugged lazily, like suddenly it was just boring to him. The past wasn't flattering, he guessed. Why bother talking about it? "High school. Ryan. You. Realizing that premature feelings would grow into real ones. I mean, I would never have felt the way I did about Ryan if I was straight. Back then, I just wondered if he was exclusive. If I was supposed to like girls but Ryan was the exception. He wasn’t. Still, it doesn't make me feel better about anything. That's the scariest part for me. Knowing that my father could have known me as someone I'm not."

They were scared on two different levels, he guessed. Dallon was scared of what he thought of himself, and Brendon what others thought. And it wasn't any different than how he'd felt about the world before, scared of people and their dirty stares and what they may or may not be thinking. But Dallon was in his own head. And maybe on some level he was in everyone else's heads too, because he just always seemed to know. The thing was he just didn't care. "So if you can deal with that, I can deal with this."

"In a not so comparing-our-problems way, yes." And he smiled that damn smile, the one that he stole from the sun, and Brendon kind of had to smile back. Things couldn't be that bad if he got a smile like that in return. Being gay couldn't be that bad either, because no matter how many regrets either of them had, no matter how many people judged them, there was only one opinion that mattered to him. The opinion of a boy that was always on the same page as him. "Don't let yourself be scared of you, Brendon. It's no fun being scared of yourself. Trust me."

Maybe that page wasn't always printed the same. Maybe it was a few words off, maybe there were a few blank pages. Maybe Brendon would never have the guts to ask. But strangely, his desire to know everything wasn't so bothersome. And he was okay with that. "Yeah. You're right."

And he was. He was.


	53. Chapter 52: A Convoluted Kind of Perfect

It had been a year. A year since Dallon had kissed him in his bedroom and asked him to be his boyfriend, a year since the official beginning of something beautiful. Brendon has been thinking a lot about it, about the anxiety he’d had over Dallon and the stress of the will they or won’t they. They’d been so back and forth back then. The thing was, sometimes they still felt back and forth.

“I’m gonna have a good day.” He told himself in the mirror, touching each of the buttons on his sweater. He had to say it to his face. Convince himself it was true. His phone buzzed on his ottoman, and anxiety ran through his veins like routine.

Dally: here!

He slipped his phone into the waistband of his leggings and went to grab his backpack, searching for his new yellow converse instead of his old black ones. He’d gotten them on a good day at the Fashion Show Mall with his mother; he thought the bright color would make him feel better. Happier. Now it just felt like a lie.

“I’m going to school!” He called to his mother in the kitchen, opting out of breakfast, and she called a goodbye as he slipped out and headed down the stairs. He was going to have a good day. He was going to have a good day. He was going to have a good day.

“Happy anniversary.” Dallon chimed in lieu of a greeting when Brendon climbed into the passenger seat, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “How are you?”

“Hi. Happy anniversary. I’m okay. Tired. How are you?”

“Same. Strap in.” He nodded his head at him so Brendon did as he was told. The heat was on and Dallon was wearing a blue sweater. The color brought out his eyes, and Brendon leaned his head back against the seat.

Brendon held his hand in the hallway, laughed at his jokes, smiled up at him like he did each time he remembered he was his. It had been a year. So much could happen in a year. You could fall in love, lose your innocence, once, twice, both in different ways. You could learn a lot about a person. Become an adult. Fail tests and cry and try to repair a broken relationship.

In spite of that all, Brendon smiled, because he promised himself he would have a good day.

He watched Dallon pick at his food as he sat across from him at dinner, telling him a story as Brendon listened, nodding along and trying not to think. Brendon felt sick when he thought about it. How he saw things so differently now. How he wondered if Dallon was eating enough or if he felt bad about himself or if he noticed that Brendon was worried about him.

He kissed down Dallon’s stomach as he shoved him back on the mattress that night. Dallon didn’t seem to have a problem with it, though Brendon had done it to test the waters. Dallon’s mom was home and they couldn’t do anything anyway, but Brendon kissed him, sucked a bruise into his v-line, held a hand over his heart, nuzzled his face in his flesh until Dallon pulled him up to kiss him, not realizing that he was distracted.

“Did you have a good day?” Dallon asked him that night as they lay together under the covers, and Brendon thought that was a very good question.

Brendon sat on Tyler’s bed a few days later, watching him reorganize his room as he rambled about his life just to get it all off his chest. Nothing was even supposed to be wrong. That was the worst part. He had been okay for a minute, thought he was finally moving on, but then he remembered, and it was like everything came flooding back. All the bad things. Sometimes he just had those random bursts of sadness.

“I’ve been so out of it.” Brendon admitted as he watched Tyler pin a poster to the now navy blue wall, having changed the color again over the weekend.

Tyler looked over at him, feeling around his desk for the hammer, and asked, “Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. A lot’s going on.” He rested his cheeks in his hands and frowned, wondering if he should tell him or not. He didn’t want to talk behind Dallon’s back. He just needed to get it all out and off his chest. Everything was weighing him down so heavily. “I just... I found something out and it’s kind of all I can think about.”

Tyler looked skeptical when he turned to look at him again, his eyes questioning as Brendon didn’t say enough. “He didn’t cheat on you, did he?”

“No.” Not really, Brendon thought, but that wasn’t what was on his mind anymore. Everything was so rapid. Everything just kept hitting him. “No. I don’t wanna say anything specific, but what I found out... I haven’t stopped thinking about it. And now I’m overly cautious and scared that he’s in a bad place and I just want us to be okay. It’s like we have a few good days and then... I don’t know. Am I crazy for thinking two mentally ill people can be together with no problems?”

Tyler made a face and turned back to jamming a pushpin into the wall. “That’s pretty discriminatory, B.”

“I don’t mean it like that. Just— I’m one way. He’s another. I’m starting to think that my own anxiety is going to ruin this.” He put his head in his hands, at a complete loss. This was so impounding. It was taking up all of the space in his mind. “Fuck. He’s so good to me, Ty. He worships me and he makes me feel good about myself and he’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m so lucky to be with someone who loves me like he does.”

He turned again as he folded his arms, obviously trying to listen for once though he didn’t know where Brendon was going with it. “I agree.”

“I mean, I have a virtually perfect life. I have a great, supportive family and a job and a roof over my head. I have friends and an education and an amazing boyfriend. So what the fuck is wrong with me? I’m supposed to be happy. Why aren’t I happy?” He asked desperately, as if there were one answer. As if it were simple enough to say well, I can tell you why. He just didn’t understand why he couldn’t be happy even when everything good was handed to him.

“It just doesn’t work that way, Bren.” Tyler lamented. Brendon sighed, because he knew. Of course he knew. If it did work that way then he would be so indescribably happy. Instead he was here, trying to bite back his tears.

Things were perfect. They were just a convoluted kind of perfect.

“I’m a waste of his time.” He told himself, a realization of some sort, and Tyler placed the hammer down on his desk. “He’s trying so hard. He’s incredible and patient and smart and I’m wasting his time. I mean, he has a future. He just had his art up in a gallery. He’s going to art school and knows what he wants to do with his life. I’m just the pathetic boyfriend who’s making him teach me math and baby me like a fucking infant. I mean, we’re on complete opposite ends right now. I’m failing half my classes and I can’t get it no matter how hard I try. I read the informational pages in the textbook that no one reads, and I asked Ryan and Josh but neither of them takes stats, and Dallon tried to teach me but I’m literally unteachable. I’m gonna fail. I’m going to fucking fail out of high school and I’m not gonna graduate with everyone and I’m just gonna have to kill myself so I don’t have to live with that shame in my cardboard box forever.”

“Brenny bear.” Tyler sat on the edge of his bed gently, keeping his distance respectfully. “First of all, please don’t say that. I couldn’t live without you. And stop being so self-deprecating and thinking worst case scenario. If you have a bad mindset then you’ll fail. That’s not what we want. Besides, Dallon is crazy about you. You guys are best friends. He’s not going to break up with you for needing a little help in math. We all need a little help sometimes.”

Brendon sighed deep from his stomach and grabbed a pillow to hug to his chest, squeezing it tight as if trying to release his tension. So Dallon didn’t mind helping him. It didn’t mean he liked it. Brendon took and never gave. He didn’t know how to change that. Tyler got back up with a sigh, returning to cleaning his room as he had promised his mother he would if he wanted Brendon over.

“Can I tell you something stupid?”

Tyler glanced at him curiously from where he was beginning to fold his clean shirts. “I’m sure it’s not stupid, but sure.”

He took another deep breath and ran his fingers over the fuzzy material of the pillow in his grip, avoiding his gaze because he wasn’t sure he could look him in the eye as he said it. “I feel like what happened to me is a burden to everybody.” He admitted, leaving this stupid, bitter taste in his mouth that said he’d regret his words. “I mean, I’m not saying that it’s anyone’s fault that I feel this way. I know everyone’s trying to help and are handling it however they can. It’s just... that’s the thing. They’re all handling it. Trying to help. It makes me feel like I’ve been resorted to something to have to handle. I’m not a box full of fine china. And I don’t think people are purposely trying to treat me like this, but it’s a lot. Knowing that everyone is always watching out for me.”

“You know we do that because we love you.”

“I know, and I’m grateful, but it makes me feel broken. My family walks on eggshells around me and Dallon asks if I’m okay like, every ten minutes. And it’s not a bad thing, I’m thankful that everyone cares about me, but it’s so pressuring. I feel like I need to start acting. Putting on a brave face.” He sighed, rubbing his face in exhaustion. “Every once in a while I think I’m okay. I have this— this moment, where everything feels normal. And then it comes back to me, and I’m miserable all over again. It makes it so hard to do anything. School. Work. Caring about the rest of the world. It’s so hard to when my mind is constantly reminding me of everything that’s wrong with it. I just feel so in the way sometimes. Like what happened to me ruined me.”

“No, B, what happened to you was disgusting and totally not your fault. Everyone only tiptoes because they’re worried. I know that isn’t what you wanna hear, but it’s all in your best interest, you know? We’re trying to accommodate. Like Dallon— he’s got depression so he knows that it’s hard. He knows how you feel. Just because all of us don’t doesn’t mean we resent you for it. And I mean, of course it’s hard to focus. You went through fucking trauma. You earned the right to be miserable for a minute.”

Brendon sniffled, and he hadn’t even realized that he’d begun to cry. Tears burned in his throat and he made a noise of distress as he buried his face in the stupid fuzzy pillow. He thought he was happy. Actually, he never thought he was happy. He just wished he was. Prayed to a God that had never done anything for him. He wasn’t happy. He didn’t know who he was kidding.

Tyler knew how to treat it. No baby talk, no comfort, no back rubbing or hugging or telling him that everything was going to be okay. This was nothing. This was Brendon hiding from the people he had to be strong for, crying, and not apologizing for it. Tyler understood, because he just turned to look at his best friend, assessed the situation, and then turned back to what he was doing. “No one resents you, you know.”

He sniffled again and tightened his grip on the pillow like it was keeping him grounded. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

“I think you’re making a big deal out of something that’s not a big deal,” Tyler told him truthfully, and leave it to him to be brutally honest. Brendon looked up at him, wide eyes filled with tears, and he added, “that’s what I think. You know I adore how dramatic you are sometimes but this isn’t good, Bren. Something bad happened to you and everyone’s reacting, everyone’s trying to treat you the way they think you should be treated, like some porcelain doll that’s a tap away from being shattered. And sometimes you do act like that, so however we’re reacting, you deserve it. We don’t resent you. We all just want you to feel okay again.”

“And sometimes I do, but then it all hits me again and it’s just... too much. I don’t know who to be anymore. I thought I had everything figured out and then this happened and it’s like I lost myself at that stupid party. And I wanna be mad at anyone else but I’m the one who drank. A seventeen-year-old shouldn’t have been drinking. Not like that. Not at some party around a bunch of strangers. And Dallon was trying to take care of me and I wouldn’t let him. That was the problem: I wanted to be independent. I thought, this is a chance to prove that Brendon Urie is an adult. I proved that one wrong, didn’t I?”

“Be mad at Shane. He’s the one who fucked it all up for you. One drink wasn’t gonna get you drunk, and we wouldn’t have let that happen to you. You know Dallon would do anything for you. He doesn’t see you as some fragile little boy that he has to babysit, Brendon, he sees you as his equal. You’re his boyfriend and he loves you and he supports you. You don’t even know how many times he and I have talked about it. I think you forget that he knows exactly what you’re doing: coping. When he was at his worst, he was being self-destructive, remember that essay?” He nodded. Of course he remembered. Those words would be ingrained on his soul for a long, long time. “Right. That was his way of coping. Yours is breaking down. You’re new to this. Mental illness. You don’t know how to keep it in check yet. You will one day, and I hope it never gets this bad again, but mental illness isn’t temporary. This is a part of you that’s forever, Bren.”

Brendon glanced down at his sock-clad feet and sniffled again. “I just— fuck, I can’t help but feel like I’m just inconveniencing everyone. All I do is fuck up and I-I wish I didn’t have to do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore.”

Tyler stopped in place and peeked up at him as tears slid down his cheeks silently. Brendon wiped fervently at his nose, sniffling too much, and something unsettling sat heavy in his chest. “You’re not thinking of leaving, are you?” Tyler asked, the words coming out nervous.

Leaving. Brendon knew what that meant. That was as serious of a question that Tyler could ask without it becoming too much for both of them. Brendon was sobbing in his bed and he’d been there before but it was never this bad. He’d cried over failed tests and bad presentations at school, bullying, boys, but never over this. This wasn’t high school drama. This was real life. Brendon didn’t know what to do with that.

In a whisper, he choked out a quiet, “I don’t know.”

Of course he’d thought about it. Way too much over the course of the past five months, actually. He would never admit it to anyone else, of course not, but sometimes it felt like it would be easier to just... be gone. He would do anything to cease existence sometimes. To just stop worrying about preserving other’s feelings. To go somewhere where there was just him, but a happier version. Much happier. Gone.

He caught a flicker of something in Tyler’s eyes and he sat down carefully on the edge of his bed, not daring to touch him out of fear of scaring him. “Brendon...”

“I don’t wanna be like this.” He admitted to his lap, choking on his tears. “I don’t wanna wake up thinking that I have to go through another stupid fucking day and I don’t wanna live worrying about everything. I have these awful nightmares and I haven’t told Dallon that I’m still having them but last month I had a dream that he raped me and I threw up and he was there. I can’t sleep because I keep waking up in the middle of the night crying because I had a dream that Shane was there, and he— fuck. I keep having dreams that he’s doing things to me and I keep trying to move on but I can’t.”

“Bren, you need to do something about that. Please do something. Talk to Ms. Kenny or your mom, talk to Dallon.” He reached out to touch Brendon’s arm but he flinched, and Tyler retracted his hand fast. Just a few days ago Brendon was sitting in Dallon’s car kissing, sharing his space, breathing his air back to him. Now he was scared again, letting it all get to him again.

Life just had a way of surprising him, he guessed. “I can’t. I’m not— I’m not, like, planning a suicide. It’s just this lingering thought that I wish I could end this awful feeling but I can’t. I don’t— I don’t think I could bring myself to.”

“Please don’t.” Tyler’s voice came so quietly that Brendon looked up at him, tears dripping off of his eyelashes. “Look. I know things suck right now, and I know me telling you to do something won’t make you do it, but I need you. Dallon needs you, so does your family, your friends, people care about you. Whether or not you believe it.”

“I know.” Brendon admitted almost silently. Of course he knew that. He knew that if anything were to happen to him, he would hurt the people he loved. He couldn’t imagine his parents or siblings finding him, or the look on Dallon’s face when he heard. It made Brendon’s stomach churn in disgust. He couldn’t... he couldn’t do that to them. “I know. I just... I need to find some way to handle this. It’s all too much and I need to handle it. I just don’t know how.”

“Well, I know you think you’re a burden, but if you need any help, then I’m here.” Tyler offered, and he meant it. Brendon knew that too.

He said nothing, only nodded, and Tyler was quiet for a minute. Brendon was silent too, trying to swallow his tears, and his body shook as he leaned in against his best friend. Tyler was cautious as he enveloped him, and Brendon settled down, trying to let himself feel safe for once.

He was there. That was what everybody said. It just felt so hard to believe.

* * *

Sometimes Brendon woke up and thought he was okay for a second, but it was only false hope. The world could never give him something so easy. It was just that he had been running on false hope for months, but he was starting to get tired. There was only so much time he could stand it before the exhaustion started to get to him.

He stared ahead of him at the whiteboard and tried to pretend that he was listening, though his mind was somewhere else entirely. Mr. McCracken rambled on about connotation and denotation as he sat half asleep in his seat at the back of the room, tapping the eraser of his mechanical pencil against his notebook lazily. Rain was pounding loud against the window and he turned to look at the trees shake with the wind, the wet pavement, his eyes half lidded and heavy.

Beside him Ryan was half asleep with his cheek in the palm of his hand, and Brendon elbowed him awake. He jumped and Brendon hissed an apology, but he only shrugged, reaching out to doodle in his notebook instead. Brendon flipped his pencil around to add to his drawing. Ryan pushed his notebook in between their desks and Brendon began to add wings to the weirdly shaped animal Ryan had drawn.

All of a sudden the sound of the door got everyone's attention, and a student intern handed two blue slips to their teacher. He glanced down at one, squinted, and called out, "Brendon." Brendon looked up, and everyone turned to look at him as his teacher nodded him over. “Dallon, you too.”

Brendon exchanged confused glances with his boyfriend before they both got up, sliding their things in their bags and rejoining at the front. “Thanks.” Dallon accepted the slip and followed the intern into the hallway, reaching out to place a hand on Brendon’s shoulder.

“Uh. What is this about? Why are we being dismissed?” Brendon asked as the classroom door fell shut behind them.

“Your mom is dismissing both of you. She was really frantic on the phone. Your sister is in labor. Congratulations.” She smiled over her shoulder at them as she led them to the front office. “You guys just have to sign yourselves out and you’re free to go. Good luck!”

“Oh my god. Thank you.” He grinned back at her and reached out to tug on Dallon’s sweater sleeve as she disappeared down the hallway. “Dal. Dallon.” He turned toward him, overwhelmed. “Holy shit. She wasn’t due for another two weeks. I didn’t think-“

“C’mon. Hey. We should get to the hospital.” He insisted when Brendon couldn’t find his words.

“Yeah, we should.” He agreed, and Dallon held the office door for him when they went to sign themselves out.

Brendon followed Dallon to his car and climbed in the passenger side, fumbling for his phone in his bag. “Hey, why did she dismiss me too?” Dallon asked as he dug his keys out, slamming the driver’s seat door behind him.

Brendon tossed his bag into the back, not wasting any time. “She told me that she’d like it if you could be there to meet the baby when he’s born.” He said, and Dallon stopped as he was buckling his seatbelt, looking up at him with big eyes. “Oh, c’mon. Don’t make this a thing.”

“But that’s so sweet, Bren!” He reached over the middle console to pull him into a hug and Brendon laughed, as they didn’t have much time to spare. “It’s like I’m a part of your family.”

“You’ve been a part of my family for a long time, you know.” Brendon reminded him, and Dallon must not had realized because he stared after Brendon when he pulled away to turn on his phone. “I’m gonna call my mom. See what’s going on over there.”

“Yeah, go for it.” Dallon stuck the key in the ignition after fumbling with it for a minute, caught off guard, and the engine thrummed to life as Brendon called his mother, leaning forward to twist up down the radio.

“Hi, are you on your way?” His mother asked when she picked up on the second ring, the din of people talking in the background. “Is Dallon with you?”

“Yeah, we were in the same class. He’s driving me there now. Is everything okay? Did she have the baby yet?” He asked, words coming out rushed and frantic as Dallon pulled out of the parking lot, already knowing the way to the hospital by heart.

“No, ipo, her water broke about an hour ago. Ben took her to the hospital and I had to close down the diner for the day so we could all be there. I called Leann to make sure she could dismiss Dallon. It might be a little while before the baby comes but try to hurry here anyway. I’ll see you when you get here.” They exchanged goodbyes, he didn’t want to hold her up, and she left him with her room number before he hung up and recited it back to Dallon so neither would forget.

When they got there Dallon asked for Kara’s room and a nurse pointed them to it. Brendon rushed with Dallon following quickly behind, finally just reaching out to grab his hand to keep them together because it was a hospital and Brendon probably shouldn’t run.

Everybody was in the waiting room save for his mother when they found the right place, and he went to poke his head into her room to say hello before he was ushered back to join the rest of his family, as she needed space to rest. He sat down, then, looking around at the rush of the hospital as everybody’s lives were put on hold. That was the funny thing about hospitals. Time never seemed to exist there.

Taking longer than expected, it had been a few hours since they’d gotten there and barely anything had happened. Brendon was expecting everything to be so high energy and exciting, but Kara was resting and his family was taking up the waiting room space and Dallon had disappeared at some point to have a few minutes alone. Brendon lingered in his lone seat, watching people pass by and trying to stay awake.

There was something profound about hospitals. Like they were a liminal space, the bright fluorescent lights and linoleum floors, the dripping of an IV and the uncomfortable beds with scratchy, pale green bedding. The overpriced gift shop and shitty cafeteria downstairs, the doctors trained to deliver bad news in their have-to-be-there long white coats. Panic stricken families in waiting rooms, doing just what they were meant to be doing: waiting. Doctors holding out information for torture, just because they can, though somehow that felt easier than the truth. When the truth was laid out, people could slip on it; those perpetually polished floors were a bitch.

But there was an element to the hospital that made it feel like an airport. People saying hello, people saying goodbye, except far more permanent than rushing to catch a flight or picking up a loved one after seemingly much too long. At the hospital, people were trying to fix things that could barely be fixed, trying to play God and mess with what couldn’t be changed. Death was inevitable, of course it was, but people seemed to think they were able to prolong it. And sometimes it worked, but sometimes it didn’t. The limbo between life and death and the suffering making you not know which to choose was inevitable, too.

Dated back to the seventeen fifties hospitals took care of sick patients and brought new, eventual ones into the world. And that was the way Brendon saw it, that everyone was a patient at one point or another. Nobody ever paid attention to that. Driving by a hospital on your way to school or work or anywhere else, you’d glance at it and not think twice, but somewhere within someone is being taken and someone is being born. It was the cycle of life, the one everybody spoke of, though no one stopped to think about it.

But the beeping of a heart monitor and the anxiety of an endless, long beep, the threat of eternal loss, the tears and heartbreak, it wasn’t all hospitals had to offer. On the opposite side of the waiting room as those panic-stricken families were those eager for good news. A cancer patient being told they had entered remission, a clean bill of health, the news of a healthy and safe birth. The bringing of life into the world, the gentle hello spoken in a whisper to a newborn baby who knew of nothing but its mother’s arms. That was what hospitals were for. Hellos and goodbyes, birth and death, that endless cycle.

“Hey, comrade.” Dallon’s voice got Brendon’s attention and he looked up to see two brown to go cups of coffee, one in each hand. He gave one to Brendon without another word and claimed the seat beside him.

“Hi. Thanks.” He held the cup up in a cheers of appreciation before he brought it to his lips. It was hospital coffee from the cafe downstairs so it wasn’t good, but caffeine was all he had to keep him awake.

“Sure.” Dallon took a sip of his own and buried his hand in between his thighs. “How ya holdin’ up?”

“Fine. I’m exhausted, all I can think about is going home and getting into bed, but I’m excited. Still, I spent the past ten minutes trying to calculate where the most efficient place to nap in this hospital would be. The goal is to be comfortable and not cause any distress to anybody here.”

Dallon raised his shoulders in a shrug to make his pink floral jacket cover his ears, cold from the draft of the air conditioner. “Well, I’m sure Kara would be distressed if her baby brother misses the birth of his first nephew because he was busy napping in an unsolicited location.”

“You got that.” Brendon leaned his head against his shoulder with a sleepy laugh and tangled his fingers with Dallon’s. “Where were you?”

“I took a walk. Looked at the mountains from the top floor because I don’t appreciate them enough. Called my mom to make sure she knew everything’s good here. Went to the chapel. I like to go there whenever I’m at a hospital. It’s like... the one safe place here for me.” He scratched at Brendon’s thumb gently. “I prayed for a safe birth.”

“Oh. Thank you.” He looked up at him when Dallon nodded, and Brendon guessed he was better at talking to God. It was best that he do it.

“Sure.” He tightened his grip on his hand and Brendon started to play with his fingers, imagining how small they were when a baby was born. How insane it was to even think about. That there was gonna be such a tiny thing around pretty soon. “Hey, can I stay over your house tonight? I’m tired and I don’t really wanna take the parkway after I drop you off.”

“Yeah, I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind. The house should be quiet.” He figured, twisting the ring on Dallon’s finger aimlessly until quick paced steps got his attention.

It all happened so slow and then all at once, he thought as he raced down the corridor behind Dallon and his mother. He stood against the wall with an arm looped around Dallon’s waist, watching close to her head as the nurses made everyone give them space. This was what hospitals were for. A new person in the world, made just for his family. Kara was gripping her boyfriend’s hand, mumbling something under her breath, and the doctors asked if she wanted everybody out but she insisted her family stay.

The sound of crying filled the room, and Brendon turned to look at Dallon’s face when it all happened, smiling this real smile because he’d never seen this before, never had any younger siblings or family close enough. The baby was cleaned and swaddled, Brendon’s mother was in tears, and Kara was beaming when they handed her son to her. Something settled in Brendon’s chest, this semblance of peace, and he wondered if this could be the bomb shelter. The one good thing to have happened over the course of the past few months. He held Dallon’s hand tight when they left the room.

Everybody got their turns to visit Kara and the baby, Luca, and it was another half an hour of waiting before Brendon’s mom gestured for he and Dallon to follow her. And they did, this time to a different room with a bed, and Brendon lingered in the doorway for a minute, not knowing what to do. He’d never actually been around a baby before.

“Come in.” Kara insisted, so Brendon stepped cautiously into the room and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

The baby was cradled in his sister’s arms, wrapped in a blanket, not yet taking in his surroundings though he would. He had a lot to learn. Brendon couldn’t imagine it, or didn’t know how, being so new to the world that he wasn’t jaded. He couldn’t imagine a blank slate, not worrying because everything you needed to be happy was something your mother’s comfort could provide. He couldn’t imagine being new to a world like that. Pristine.

“Wow,” Dallon reached out to take the baby’s hand with one finger. “Kar, he’s adorable. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, sweetie.” She smiled up at him while Brendon still sat quietly in shock beside him. A baby. An actual living, breathing baby. A human life that she was responsible for. “Thanks for being here, too. I’m glad you were.”

“I’m glad I was too. This was amazing.” He said, and Brendon looked between Dallon and the baby, letting a smile break out on his face. He’d have this one day. He promised himself. He would have his own child, his own family, he’d be the one smiling down at the newborn. Under different circumstances, granted his sexuality, but it would happen. He looked up at Dallon again, and it would happen.

“I can’t believe he came from you. That was so weird.” Brendon mumbled, and they both laughed as he shrugged and went to touch the baby’s hand cautiously. Kara insisted that it was fine, and he exchanged peaceful smiles with Dallon.

All of a sudden she held the baby out to her little brother. Shocked, he stared at her with wide eyes, but she just smiled back at him like she knew something he didn’t. “C’mon, little one. You won’t hurt him. Just hold him.”

“Okay.” He took the baby in his arms, and Dallon reached out to take his tiny hand again. He wrapped his fingers instinctively around Dallon’s index finger and Brendon let out a laugh, squealing childishly, his sleeplessness and excitement catching up to him. “He’s so small!”

“Didn’t feel that way.” She pet her son’s head. “But yeah, he is.” She glanced up at Brendon fondly and he met her eyes with teary ones of his own. He knew he’d get emotional about it. All this thinking about birth and death was getting to him, as it did sometimes. “You were too, y’know. I used to try and dress you up in my doll’s clothes when you were a baby.”

He laughed, wiping at his eyes. “You were always tryin’ to dress me up.”

She laughed too, and the baby turned his head toward her. “When I wasn’t hating you, that is. You cried way too much, you kept us all up at night for years. I didn’t want a third brother. I wanted a puppy. I was glad I got you eventually, don’t get me wrong, but for the first, like, six years of your life, I was impartial.”

“What changed?” Dallon asked quietly, enveloped in the stories of his partner at a young age. Brendon turned to look at him but he was looking at Kara, smiling this quiet smile that made Brendon’s heart race.

“He came to me for the first time for a problem. He was in like, first grade, and I was already in middle school so of course I knew everything, and he told me that there was a girl in his class that liked him and he needed help with it because he didn’t want a girlfriend. After that, I realized that maybe he liked me more than I thought he did. If he trusted me, then he wasn’t all that bad.” She smiled at her brother and Dallon turned toward him too, watching him like he saw something that nobody else could.

“Well, Kyla was only seven and I couldn’t trust her to tell me what to do. I had to ask someone. Girls scared me. Still do.” He smiled down at the baby in his arms, little wisps of brown hair on his head and big brown eyes that were a staple of his family. “I always looked up to you. As early as I can remember, I always wanted to be like you. You were my best friend, y’know? You took care of me, even when you were young. You’ve been cleaning up my messes since I was a day old.”

“Don’t I know it.” She chuckled and accepted the baby back when Brendon decided that he’d had enough excitement for one day.

And as he saw her holding him, it slipped into his mind again. She was moving out. She was about to be gone, in a new home with her new family and learning things that Brendon didn’t know. Couldn’t know. “You know, you could stay. Luca can live with us. I’ll let Kyla move into my room.” He proposed quietly, staring at his sister with tears still in his eyes.

She laughed at that as if it had been a joke, cradling the tiny boy in her arms. “Yeah, right. There’s no room for a circus at that house. It’s crowded enough as it is.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Brendon looked down at his lap and felt Dallon’s hand rub his back consolingly, knowing well enough that it wasn’t a joke. But it was fine. It was okay. Things would change. He had to let them in order to grow.

“Boys.” Brendon’s mother called quietly from the doorway, and Brendon tore his gaze away from his sister’s. “It’s almost one. You have school tomorrow. You should get home.”

“Yeah.” Brendon agreed, though hesitant, and reached out to touch the baby’s hand one last time. “Yeah, okay. Home. I’ll, uh. I’ll see you soon. I’ll come over. Babysit.”

“Of course, Brendon. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He whispered, the words making his throat ache, and he let Dallon hug him only when they were outside her room.

* * *

Brendon’s hands got lost in his too big sweatshirt that he’d stolen from Mason one day or another when he was feeling bad about his body. Dallon was laying on his bed but making no effort to try and sleep, instead scrolling through his phone and waiting patiently for Brendon to join him.

“I’ve never held a baby before.” Brendon told him, not really having much of a point to it, except that he had had a weird day of firsts.

Dallon looked up at him, and Brendon tugged at the hem of the stolen sweatshirt with UNLV printed on the front. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It was really weird. They’re heavier than you’d expect. They look too small to be heavy.” He sat on the edge of his bed and took off his glasses.

Dallon hummed, pulling at the covers and giving Brendon space to make himself comfortable. “So Kara’s not married or anything?” He nudged his foot under the covers.

Brendon nudged his foot back. “No. I know she wants to marry him, though. They’ve been together for a long time. Since I was like, twelve, I think. They’ve talked about marriage. I just think the baby kinda... y'know. Threw a wrench in the plan.”

“Well, it’s not bad to do it all out of order. Sometimes I think it’s more personal to do things a little out of the ordinary, anyway.” He rested his elbow on the pillow, examining Brendon’s face with this smile Brendon still couldn’t understand, even after all this time. “I mean, it wouldn’t be so bad. Marriage. Having kids.”

Brendon snorted, rolling over onto his back but trying to seem like he wasn’t looking away because he was overwhelmed. “Maybe one day. Not anytime soon. I’m in high school.”

Dallon laughed, warm and bright like he had stolen that laugh from a kitten and a baby and a field of flowers. "I know! I'm not proposing to you. Chill.” He nudged his arm and Brendon looked up at him, smiling sheepishly. A year ago he’d barely had a boyfriend. Now his boyfriend was hiding important things from him and making him worry. Brendon needed to sort those things out first. Long before he thought he could trust him for the rest of his life. “I'm just saying that one day, we could end up together. It's a nice thought."

Brendon looked up at him in consideration, and Dallon was right. It was a beautiful thought. It was an idealistic thought. Maybe an unrealistic thought. How stable was a high school relationship? How stable could two boys who were deemed unstable by everybody else really be?

He wanted that. Dallon, for the rest of his life. Waking up to him singing as he made breakfast in the mornings, smiling at the sound of the shower. Waking their kids up for school, staying up late to help them finish impossible projects, taking turns driving them around. Talking, playing games as a family, watching movies every Friday night. Teaching them how to ride a bike and drive and live out in the world. He wanted that. He just felt like it was so unattainable.

He swallowed thickly and tried to smile. “Yeah.” He agreed. “It is.”

“Hey.” Dallon bumped his fist against Brendon’s shoulder and Brendon looked up, hesitant and nervous though he wasn’t entirely sure why. “Can I tell you something?”

He was reluctant to say yes because that always scared him, Dallon wanting to tell him something. Dallon’s words had that effect on him sometimes. “Sure.” He permitted anyway, hoping it wasn’t a proposal yet because he didn’t want to say no but he wouldn’t want to say yes either when they were in this place. Brendon so uncertain and Dallon hiding, like always.

“So, I have a plan.” He told him vaguely, and Brendon looked at him blankly, not knowing what to make of that. “Like. A plan for us. In a not weird way. Or maybe it is in a weird way. I don’t know. It’s just— you wanna hear it?”

Brendon shifted, eyebrows climbing high on his face, but it wasn’t a yes or no. A plan. That was vague. That was narrow. A plan for them, a little less vague, but still not broad enough for a yes or no or even a maybe.

Brendon had been skirting around the whole “future” thing for a while now, too scared to confront Dallon about his fears, hoping all of them would go away before the time came. He wasn’t scared of commitment. He wasn’t scared of having a future with Dallon. He was just scared that that wasn’t really in Dallon’s plan. That this was just some fantasy and Dallon was letting himself believe it.

“Yeah. Sure. Okay.” He watched Dallon’s lips curl into a smile that wasn’t a smile, not quite catching his worry.

“Okay. So Nevada State is only about twenty minutes from the Art Institute. And I did a little research, we can both live off campus, so I was looking into apartment buildings available in BC and I found a couple of pretty nice places. But there’s this one...” He shifted to sit up, excitement in his eyes. “Wood floors, white walls, we can paint and hang things up. There’s a balcony and two bedrooms and it’s small but it’s spacious enough for us. I don’t want to dorm, but my mom wants me to be more independent. So I was thinking that instead of living alone, you can move in with me. Make it our place.”

Brendon shifted to sit up too, shocked, and he didn’t know what to say. It was a proposal, more or less. An I want you in my space. An I need you. “Like. Live together? In the same apartment? Away from my family?”

Dallon nodded. “You don’t have to say yes. I know it’s a lot to ask. But I don’t know, I just— I feel like it could be a good step. Living together. I mean, there would be another bedroom, we don’t have to sleep together, we could have our space, and plus we’ll be in school so we won’t see each other constantly. I know moving away from home might be a big thing, but maybe a new environment will be good for you. A fresh start. And it’s in between our houses now so you’ll be close to home and work. And I can take you to school, or I can teach you to drive. We can make it work.”

“Wow.” Brendon breathed out before he could stop himself, shocked that he was so organized already. It was just a thought, wasn’t it? Nothing was set in stone. “You’ve put so much thought into this, Dallon, wow.”

“I know. And I know this is probably too much to spring on you. Obviously there's no pressure, and it's not like you're making any promises in regard to us, you don't have to give me an answer right away, but you should think about it." He reached out for Brendon’s hand, daring to slide their fingers together.

“Yeah. Okay. I’m gonna. Think about it, I mean.” He agreed, a bit stunned at the prospect. Living with Dallon. Seeing him in a space of their own every day. Monitoring him, he thought transiently, but shook it away quick. He didn’t want to fix Dallon. There was nothing to fix. He just... didn’t know. “Thank you. For asking me.” He added gently as he started to play with his fingers. He wanted a future with Dallon. He really, really wanted a future with him.

So why did it feel so impossible?

* * *

“You know...” Brendon started uncertainly as he brushed his almost black hair in the mirror, Dallon standing behind him and pulling on his sweatshirt. He looked up curiously, saying nothing, and Brendon continued, “I thought you were gonna break up with me last night. Instead of asking me to move in with you.”

Dallon tugged on the hem of his shirt and raised his eyebrows, but didn’t seem bothered or shocked. That said something, Brendon figured. That his fear wasn’t unconstituted. “What made you think that?” He asked, nothing but genuine wondering in his tone.

“I don’t know.” He folded his sleeves up, trying to make the big sweater he was wearing look a little neater. “The ‘can I tell you something’. The us fighting. Our break. Ryan. Distance next year. I have a lot of reasons to think that you would break up with me, Dallon.”

He tsked. “Okay. Fair enough. But no. Our schools are like, twenty minutes apart. There is no distance.” He turned to half smile at him when Brendon shrugged sheepishly, admitting in one way or another that he had let his anxiety get the better of him again. “No, I just figured, y’know, we’re growing up. We need to act like it. Besides, it would be a good change of pace. Living without everyone around here. I know you love them but maybe it’s time.”

Brendon looked back at himself in the mirror when his hair fell in his eyes. A change of pace. Growing up. He was terrified of all that. “Yeah, maybe it is.” He mused nonetheless, brushing his bangs aside.

“Besides, you’ll still be working at the diner. You’ll still see everyone all the time. Or you can do something else, if you want to. Wherever life takes you, you know I’ll be there too, if you’ll have me.”

Brendon turned to look at him and got up off of his knees. He went in for a hug and Dallon set a hand politely on his arm, pulling him in a minute but leaving them still touching when Brendon moved back. “Of course I’ll have you, baby.” He tilted his head up, let Dallon kiss his forehead. “I thought about it last night. And it kind of dawned on me that things are gonna be different around here anyway. Kara’s moved out. I mean, I love living here but I don’t know. Maybe it would be good for me to have a new environment. One that’s just my own. And it would be nice to come home to you every day.”

“So...? Is that a yes?” He asked hopefully.

“It’s an I’m still thinking about it.” Brendon assured him, and poked his chest for good measure before he returned to the mirror. “Do you think I look okay?”

“I think you look adorable.”

“I look stupid.” He pouted, and Dallon turned to look at him again, not observing, just making sure he was alright. He approached him slowly, looping both arms around his waist, making Brendon tense up a bit but only because he was feeling particularly insecure.

“You know...” He started gently, and their eyes met in the mirror. “When we live together, I won’t let you be self-deprecating. I’ll be like, your live-in self-esteem booster. Yet another reason why you should live with me.”

“What are the other reasons?” Brendon turned around in his arms and tried to smile, tried to find a way to tell him that he was worried about him, tried not to let it show.

“That you get to use the bathroom first in the mornings. And you can order extra fries when we get takeout without your parents telling you not to. And that you can see me naked whenever you want.” He half smiled when Brendon rolled his eyes, but laughed nonetheless.

“Oh, then that settles it.” He slid his hands up to wrap around his neck, holding on like he tended to do. “It’s a big commitment. I have to think about it.”

“Take your time.” He pressed his lips to Brendon’s forehead reassuringly, but it didn’t feel so reassuring when Brendon was so scared. He looked away with a forced smile as they parted, and instead of responding he searched for his astronomy textbook to put in his backpack for class. Dallon didn’t seem to notice his hesitance, the way he was put off, the questions he had or how he didn’t know at all how to ask them. He wanted to know. He just didn’t want Dallon to wonder why he wanted to.

* * *

Brendon pushed his bedroom door almost all the way shut, as his mother was working and wasn’t there to lecture them about her rule. He’d had a bad day, a day where he was thinking too much and no one seemed to notice that anything was wrong, though he wondered if that was for the better. He didn’t want anyone to ask. He didn’t need anyone to ask.

He tugged at his sweater self-consciously as Dallon made himself at home, not seeming to realize that Brendon hadn't talked much all day. “I’m exhausted.” Dallon complained, a request in one way or another, as he plopped down on Brendon’s bed. Brendon set his backpack down, lingering by the door, having wondered about Dallon all day. Or more specifically, the things that Dallon was hiding. Not lies, not exactly, but secrets. Things that could keep Brendon from wanting to make such a big decision for him.

“Me too.” He offered, though his exhaustion wasn’t just physical.

“Wanna nap before we have to do homework? I’ll set an alarm.” He asked, but the way he made himself comfortable told Brendon that it wasn’t up for discussion. Brendon nodded, said nothing, but settled down beside him and decided that napping was probably a good idea. He could get himself out of his mind for a few hours. Sleep away the anxiety. Maybe forget all about it when he woke up.

“Hey, Dallon?” He peeped, watching as Dallon migrated to his side and curled up against him. “Was that the hospital? Y’know, the one you went to?” He asked vaguely, but Dallon seemed to understand. With a question like that, you just understood.

“No. I went to one in Vegas for inpatient.” Dallon told him sleepily, playing with the hem of his sweater. “Better reviews. Better psychiatric care. Bigger cities have that, y’know?”

“Yeah. True.” He agreed. He had more questions, so many more, but he didn’t know how to ask them, or if he even should. So he didn’t push further, he just held him, hoping that he didn’t come across as worried because Dallon didn’t need to know he was.

Brendon stared at the ceiling, and his throat burned with tears as Dallon drifted off to sleep beside him.

* * *

Kara brought the baby to her new apartment when she got home from the hospital. That was the hardest part: when she was told she could take him home, she chose the new one. Not their home. The place she had grown up. Brendon had cried about it a bit when he was alone when Kara had called to tell him she was leaving the hospital.

A few days after the baby was born Kara asked Brendon if he wanted to babysit because she was exhausted and needed to shower and sleep and eat. He didn’t believe it, didn’t realize how hard it was taking care of a newborn, but he agreed, bringing Dallon along just in case.

He sat on the floor, playing peekaboo with the baby as Dallon watched fondly and smiled over him. Brendon hadn’t realized, only played with the baby even though he didn’t really do anything yet, just laid there and looked at Brendon like he were crazy.

“I think he thinks I’m nuts.” Brendon pointed out as he got up and sat beside Dallon on the couch, cradling the sleepy baby in his arms.

“Nah. You’re good with him, Urie.” Dallon watched as Brendon tickled the baby’s stomach carefully, holding him close as he dozed off. Brendon looked up and smiled, he was just doing what Kara had instructed him to do, and Dallon leaned a head on his shoulder. “You’re gonna be a really good dad one day.”

Brendon looked down at him with adoration and Dallon traced a heart repeatedly into his thigh. “You think?”

“Mhm.” Dallon hummed, eyes fixed on their knees beside each other. “If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want.” Brendon whispered, and Dallon rested his fingers against the inside of Brendon’s thigh. “For a while I didn’t think I could ever have something like this. Y’know, that uneducated, closeted, scared gay boy in me didn’t think it was possible to have a baby. A family. But it’s different now than it used to be. We can have what straight people have. It’s just a little harder. But look at this. This is so worth it.”

“Yeah, it is.” Dallon agreed, and for some reason Brendon had hoped that he would. “It makes you appreciate life, doesn’t it?” He asked, brushing a hand over the wisps of hair on the baby’s head.

Brendon swallowed, staring down at the baby and nodding. There was already one baby Urie. Now there was a new one. So why did there have to be two? “Yeah.” He agreed, and Dallon squeezed his thigh. “Yeah, it does.”

Dallon smiled down at Luca and Brendon tried to too, but it hurt, trying to smile when he was so scared. He never knew how to figure that out. Dallon’s hand sat steady on his waist and Brendon felt sick, watching the baby breath and seeing the resemblance between he and Kara and Ben.

“Hey, Dallon? Can I tell you something?”

Dallon’s fingers flexed on Brendon’s inner thigh. “Sure.” He hummed, not sending the anxiety clear in Brendon’s question.

“I’ve kind of been... fixated, on what you told me.” He admitted slowly, getting up to set the baby down in his crib in the corner because it was probably best he didn’t get himself involved at only a few days old. Dallon watched him wordlessly, an eyebrow arching up in confusion, and Brendon swallowed, looked away from his gaze, tried not to chicken out, and sat back down. “Listen. Uh. You’re okay, right? You’re... eating, and not...” He trailed off, realizing how insensitive he sounded. And just as well, because Dallon squirmed around awkwardly on the couch, looking away now too. “I’m sorry. I don’t wanna overstep. I’m just looking out for you.”

“Yeah, no, I get it. Uh.” He got up, looking uncomfortable, and suddenly he felt like a stranger again. “I don’t really want to talk about this. I have to get going, anyway, and...” He stopped when it was clear he had nothing else to say.

“Dallon.” Brendon sighed, and he was such an idiot. He didn’t know why he always did this. “Dal, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-“

“No, it’s fine. I love you for caring. It’s just... yeah. I gotta go. I’ll see you.” He kissed his cheek and let himself out before Brendon could protest.

He watched the door close and looked over at the baby in his crib, wanting to call after him but only closing his mouth and looking away in disdain and regret.

* * *

The Urie household was hectic when Brendon was growing up. It got easier when the kids grew up, got into high school, became autonomous. Got their own friends and started working. But when they were young it was different. It was harder. Brendon was just another factor.

Grace Urie paced the kitchen, her hands covering her face as her husband stood against the counter and watched wordlessly. “Okay. I have no idea what to do. We are losing control of these kids. What are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. Not many parenting books tell you how to deal with five kids in elementary and middle school.”

“Mason apparently has an elementary school girlfriend, Brendon is scared of everything, and I don’t know what Kara is up to but she’s wearing eyeliner so it can’t be good.”

“Grace, come on. They’re growing up. It’s okay for them to try and expand their horizons.”

“They’re too young to expand their horizons. Kara is twelve. She shouldn’t be dressing like that. And Brendon— I just want to know why he’s so scared of everything. He’s seven. He’s seven! What seven-year-old is like this?”

“He’ll grow out of it!” He insisted, and at the time he was so sure of that.

“Mama.” A small voice came from the doorway, and Grace turned to see her youngest padding into the kitchen with bare feet.

“Hi, baby. What are you doing up? It’s late. It’s past your bedtime.” She reached out for him when he ran to her, wrapping both arms around her leg.

“I had a nightmare.” He peeped. She looked up at her husband with a sigh and bent down to pick him up.

“Come on. Let’s go back to bed.” She insisted, carrying him to the stairs and then to her room. She knew the routine. He never went back to his own bed. He only felt safe when he wasn’t alone.

He curled up against her side as she crawled under the covers, sucking on his thumb and squeezing his eyes shut.

Ten years later, Brendon Urie was still scared. A different kind of scared, less physical, more psychological, but still scared all the same. Since he was a child he’d learned more about himself, figured out some ways to cope, but after everything, bad habits were so damn hard to break.

He crept into his parent’s room in the dark, making the light leak in from the hallway. His mom squinted up at him, not asleep yet, and he felt stupid, pathetic, humiliated that after all this time, he was still crawling into bed with his parents.

“What’s wrong, babe?” His mother asked, placing a hand on the back of his head and pulling him against her.

“I’m scared that not everything is gonna be okay.” He whispered against her shoulder, curling up with tears in his eyes. She nodded, didn’t understand what he meant but didn’t ask, only pet his hair and kissed the top of his head and held him.

“It will be.” She promised, and though she didn’t know what he was talking about, he told himself to believe her.


	54. Chapter 53: The I Wish You Well Sentiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as a general statement, this entire fic is a huge trigger warning for like every other mental illness so if anything triggers you, you should not be reading this :)

There was a quiet knock on Brendon’s bedroom door one day that week, and Brendon turned to look at his door as he called for whoever it was to come in. He had been sitting at his desk with a textbook in front of him for a good half an hour, trying to retain some information but not really encoding it correctly to begin with, having fallen behind a bit because of the baby.

“Hey.” Dallon greeted quietly, closing the door almost all the way behind him. Brendon sat up and half smiled as he closed his textbook, surprised to see him.

“Hey. We haven’t talked much in the past few days.” He greeted back, but didn’t bother mentioning why that was. “What are you doing here?”

“Um, I came to apologize.” He sat down on the edge of Brendon’s bed and Brendon directed his attention to him, eyebrows going up in surprise. “It was stupid of me to walk out the other day. Can we talk about it?”

Brendon nodded, because he just appreciated that Dallon was trying to communicate. That was more than he could say about so many instances before. “Sure.”

“Okay. So.” He took a deep breath like it would take a lot out of him, though Brendon guessed it would. He never liked talking about himself. Or apologizing, for that matter. “First of all, I don’t want to make excuses. I know it’s been worrying you and I know it was a lot to spring on you and I’m sorry. It’s just a really sore subject for me. I don’t always feel comfortable talking about it. Especially so suddenly. I was a little shocked. I don’t want you to worry about me, or think that I’m in danger, or anything.”

“I know that you don’t want me to worry but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to, Dallon.” He sighed in exasperation because he just didn’t get it. “You’re my partner. I care about you. I care about you being healthy and taking care of yourself.”

“I’m trying, Bren. I really am. I know it doesn’t always seem like it but I’m just doing it in my own way.” He insisted, but he sounded like a broken record.

Brendon took a deep breath too, and anxiety sat heavy on his chest. He was taking care of himself. He said that, but he never proved it. That was what scared Brendon the most. They kept having the same conversation over and over but nothing ever changed.

“You calorie count in your notes.” Brendon said after a second, and Dallon’s eyes went wide when he looked up at him. “I saw it last month. And I know it was shitty of me to snoop and I didn’t even really want to, I was just kind of playing around, I was gonna leave you a little note in your phone, but I saw that instead. And since then I’ve just been terrified that you’re hurting yourself. That you’re in a bad place.”

“Fuck.” He said under his breath, not really intended for Brendon to hear, but it was like an admission of guilt all the same. He wasn’t gonna deny it. He knew he couldn’t. Brendon wasn’t stupid. “Yeah. Uh. I keep that... that note. But. I haven’t added to it in a few weeks. I try to be good about it.” He promised, but Brendon was starting to not believe him. “I know it’s worrying, Brendon. And you have every right to worry about me. But I’ve been eating and I haven’t made myself puke or anything. I’m doing really well. Just, sometimes I don’t eat. I think it’s more of my anxiety. I’m still trying to differentiate and everything, but I don’t know. I think I’m alright right now. And I wanted to make sure you knew that.”

“I’m gonna keep being on your ass about it.” Brendon told him, deciding that he wasn’t going to believe just word of mouth.

“If you feel like that’s what you need to do to feel better then okay. But I’m gonna be fine. I’m trying.”

Brendon hesitated. “As long as you’re trying.”

“I am. I promise.”

“Okay.” Brendon accepted, and tried not to worry too much about whether it was the truth or not. He looked down at his lap, the new leggings his mother had gotten him when she went on a shopping spree, and he didn’t quite know what else to say. He was scared this was how it was always going to be. Him worrying and Dallon reassuring him.

“So... I got a job.” Dallon added quietly, as if trying to fill the silence, but Brendon’s head shot up to look at him.

“What? You did? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now.” He shrugged, and Brendon didn’t see how he wasn’t more excited about this. It was a step in the right direction. Something for his future. “I called the Art Institute and they said they loved my stuff at the gallery and want to offer me a job. I don’t know what exactly I’ll be doing yet but I guess it’s really hands on.” Brendon got up to sit with him, reaching out to place a hand on his side. “I get to work with local artists and stuff, she said. It’s not a lot and I won’t have a lot of hours but it’s still a good opportunity.”

“That’s an amazing opportunity, Dallon. I’m so happy for you.” He pulled him into a hug, pushing up his shirt to touch his skin, missed him after they’d spent a few days apart, and Dallon tensed just the slightest but Brendon pulled away to kiss him. “Baby. This is really good.”

“Yeah, it is.” He let himself smile softly, touching the side of his neck like he were testing the waters. Brendon wanted him to be okay. To have a future. He figured that this was a good step. “So I’m gonna start saving up, and hopefully by June I’ll have enough for first and last month’s rent.” He thumbed his jaw and Brendon nodded, eyes soft, as he realized that he still had to make that decision. Moving in with him. He didn’t know if he was ready. “I mean, I’m gonna move out whether you move in too or not, you know. I need to have that independence. But for the record, I’d really like you there. You know, to keep me in check.” He leaned in to bump his nose against Brendon’s. Brendon smiled back, kissed him quick, and Dallon pushed him back against his bed as Brendon looped an arm around his neck.

“That’s what I’m good at.” He said playfully, though he didn’t exactly know how good he really was at keeping Dallon in check. He tried. He guessed that mattered in some way. Brendon laid flat against the mattress and Dallon kissed him again, and then his jawline, and then his neck when Brendon tilted his head back. “You’re in a good mood today.” He observed up to the ceiling, saying it just to say it. Because he liked the words on his tongue.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” Dallon smiled warmly and stroked his cheek innocently with his fingers. “Are you?”

“I’m okay.” Brendon conceded. Maybe a good mood was an overstatement, or maybe this was just his maximum now. He just had to be okay with that. “I’m really proud of you, you know.”

“I know.” Dallon watched his eyes like he needed to find that pride and make it tangible. Dallon went through a lot. It meant something that he was still here. He deserved a little bit of pride. “Hey, I’m proud of you too, Urie. I know I don’t say that a lot but I am.”

“You do, but thank you. Sometimes I need to hear it.” Brendon tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, and this was a good step. Like a sign that things were gonna get better. They had to. Because if Dallon was taking their future seriously then he wanted to too. “I always miss you when you’re not around.”

“Then let me stick around.” Dallon whispered, perhaps sounding more suggestive than he had meant to. “I mean, I wouldn’t want you to deal with having to miss me.”

Brendon pulled away and only smiled before he moved over, making space on his bed. Dallon laughed as he laid down beside him, knew Brendon really was just that pure, and they melted together like it were innate as Brendon leaned into his side and Dallon looped an arm around him.

“I’m sorry.” Dallon apologized quietly, burying his face in his hair.

“I just want you to be okay. I need you, Dallon.” He said like the words ached coming out, because they did. He needed him. He didn’t know how insistent he had to be about that.

“You’ve got me, Urie.” He promised, a real promise this time, and Brendon smiled warmly to himself, burrowing into him. “Thank you for caring about me. I forget sometimes that people do.”

“Then I’ll keep reminding you.” Brendon decided, and Dallon rubbed his arm, told him that that was what he needed without words. Brendon closed his eyes and tried hard to appreciate this while he had it.

* * *

“It’s nice to see you again, Dallon.” Doctor Martinek greeted as he made himself comfortable that evening, settling down in her chair and folding his arms over his chest. Trying to remember everything he’d planned to say today. There was so much on his mind lately. “What’s new?”

“Um, I don’t know. A lot. Maybe not. I don’t know.” He squirmed around in his seat, always uncomfortable talking about himself at first. He still wasn’t quite sure why he even agreed to this. Therapy. Opening up. It was so dangerous for him to dig deeper into his thoughts. “I asked my boyfriend to move in with me.”

Her eyes widened but in that intrigued way, that therapist way, and went to write the date down on the blank page. “You told me you were thinking about doing that. That’s a pretty big step, huh? What did he say?”

Dallon shrugged half-heartedly like suddenly it wasn’t so appealing to talk about. He felt less confident about his words when he was reiterating how the conversation went. “He’s thinking about it. Things have been crazy lately, so I don’t blame him. You know, with the gallery, and his family, and all that stuff. It’s hard to make future plans when so much is going on.”

“That’s a good point. It is nice that you asked him, though. Does this mean you two are doing well?”

“We’re okay.” He said, but thought back to their conversation the day prior. How they danced around each other’s feelings and how Brendon never told him when he was worried about them. He didn’t want Brendon to be scared of where they would end up. Didn’t he know that he would keep himself safe if that meant keeping Brendon safe too? “I guess. I mean, everyone always says that I need to open up to people. Not just me. People who have their walls up need to open up to their loved ones. To stop bottling stuff up, or whatever. But so far, every time I tell someone something, it seems like it just causes more of a problem. I thought telling him more about me would make us stronger but so far it just makes him worry about me. So now he’s trying to take care of me, and stuff.”

“And as you’ve expressed to me, you like to take care of him.” She recalled.

He nodded in agreement and she jotted something down. “I’m not used to somebody trying to take care of me. I feel like— like that’s my job. Taking care of him. It feels wrong when he tries to take care of me.”

“Is there any specific reason for this?” She asked, which meant she probably had one in mind. Toxic masculinity. Internalized ideas of heteronormative relationships. There were a lot of reasons Dallon could have been acting the way he was. He just wished she would tell him for him so he didn’t have to figure it out himself.

“I think maybe it’s just a power dynamic.” He said slowly, feeling out his words, but felt more confident when she nodded. “I need to feel in control. Or maybe it’s because I know he’s not well equipped to take care of me. That sounds bad, but...”

“It’s valid, Dallon. You can love him and still question his ability to do something.”

He shrugged, as the idea felt wrong. Brendon was smart and capable and could do anything Dallon could do. He didn’t question his ability. He just didn’t think Brendon could take care of someone as high maintenance as him, was all. “It’s not so much questioning his ability as it’s me not feeling comfortable with someone babying me.” He corrected, and she nodded in acknowledgment. “I mean, I’ve taken care of myself long enough. I can do it now.”

“And despite this, you’ve decided to move in with him.” She added thoughtfully, and he nodded too, playing with his hands and the sleeves of his sweater. “Do you worry that when you’re living with him, he’ll learn more about you than you’re comfortable with? Because in this situation, you may not have control over what he knows and what he finds out.”

“Yeah.” He looked down at his hands, guilty for thinking it. That something about them wouldn’t work. “Sometimes I worry that we’re not gonna get along or that we’ll clash or get on each other’s nerves.” He admitted, and for some reason it felt good to get it off of his tongue and out in the open. He wondered briefly how long he had been holding on to those worries.

“These are reasonable fears. Living with a partner could be difficult at first.” She wrote something down. His worries, probably. He figured they were good to make note of. He wished he’d kept track himself. “Any other fears regarding you and your boyfriend moving in together?”

Dallon shrugged again, nodded, felt the words struggle to say themselves. “I’m scared that moving in with him might be weird with my habits.” He fought to say.

She looked skeptical, but wrote something down with his words. “What kind of habits do you mean?”

“I, um. I kind of have an eating problem. Or a body image problem. Or maybe a mental body image problem, or something. I don’t really know how to refer to it cause it’s not really an eating disorder. Either way, I used to have it worse and it’s not bad now, but sometimes I still have trouble eating. Or I eat too much to feel better about something but end up feeling terrible about myself and getting mad and mope and it— it’s stupid. But it’s me. And so I’m scared that living with him might not give me the space to have that. Which I guess might be a good thing, but... change.”

“Change can be scary, but in this case it might be a good thing.” She figured, quite obviously holding something back, and he assumed there was more to be said about it. That was why he brought it up. Brendon had been upset about it so he needed to stop ignoring it and address it. He promised this would be a good thing for them. He was trying to stop breaking promises these days. “I know you want control and don’t want him to baby you, but if he can be helpful to preventing disordered eating then that can be beneficial.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He wondered why it was so hard to agree with her. Disordered eating. It sounded so wrong. So real. “I just... I recently told him about it after he’d suspected for a while. Only he and one of my friends know. And it’s really hard for me to admit and to try and control, and sometimes I still have issues with it, but he’s been treating me like a piece of glass since he found out. And recently he found out that I’ve counted calories, and he’s been worried. Asking if I’m eating. Which is a sensitive topic, and he understands, but he cares so much about me that I feel like if I live with him, it might drive me crazy and cause friction between us.”

“Well, his caring about you might be a good thing to get annoyed at. After all, it’s not him being mad at you. There’s something to be said about the fact that he cares enough to keep an eye on you.” She reasoned, and he supposed that was true, Brendon caring was much better than Brendon not caring. “You said he and a friend know. Your mother doesn’t?”

“No. I want to tell her eventually, but I’m trying to figure out where I am with it right now. I’ve been better, but then sometimes I feel like I’m not.”

She wrote that down too, Mother doesn’t know, work on familial trust, something like that, in that vein, as he tried hard to decipher her words through pen movement but realized quickly that that wasn’t a skill he had. “Okay. Well, I’d like to talk more about this, Dallon. Can you walk me through it?”

“Like, how it developed and what it’s like?” She nodded, positioning her pen at her paper like therapists always did. He wondered passingly why she didn’t just type everything. “Um, I guess it started when I was fifteen. After my dad died. I was anxious all the time and it was really hard for me to want to eat. Part of it was trying to hurt myself, I was always doing stuff that was bad for me because I didn’t wanna live. And, like... I think it spiraled after that. A mix between being too upset to eat and wanting to hurt myself. The doctors never realized, I never told them it was intentional. I just thought it was part of the grieving process.”

“So it started when you were mourning.” She tried to calculate, making sense of a jumbled story half unwilling to be told.

“Yeah. And then my freshman year, I was kind of with my friend— Ryan, I told you about him— and he just... didn’t want to be with me. I always thought it was because I wasn’t enough. Like I wasn’t worth loving. I was insecure and hateful and wanted to change myself. I’m doing better now, but I still struggle with it. Hating myself. It’s not something that’s easy to get over.”

She hummed in agreement and wrote something down again, reciting his words in black ink. The genesis of his problems. It was so hard to keep track of them all, he assumed. “So do you think there’s a specific thing to attribute this to now?” She asked, though he doubted she didn’t have some idea.

“Yeah. Kind of.” He squirmed uncomfortably. “I just... resent myself. Like, I’ve done so many things that I regret. Forcing myself on Ryan and being such a shitty friend and son and person. Everyone should hate me.” He looked away from her, hated to admit it, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t said it a million times anyway. “I hate me.”

“So it’s self-punishment.”

“Yeah. I feel like I deserve it.” He felt stupid even saying it. Like she’d judge him or something, if it wasn’t against her job description. “I mean, I’m a terrible person. I’m not who I should be. And I’m not who I want to be. I just... I know people don’t like me. And I try not to care what other people think of me, but I wonder if I’m unlikable. Which I am, I think, I’m an unlikable person. I’ve never done anything that would make anybody like me. I just feel like if I change something...”

“Then people will like you.” She finished for him, and he nodded hesitantly. Was that how that sounded? So sad and pathetic? He was desperate to be liked. So desperate. He’d never admit it to anyone else, though. “Well, in the past I’ve worked a bit with kids who have eating disorders.” He bit his tongue. “A lot of people compare eating disorders to substance abuse. it can be a way to numb feelings. A temporary high. That’s often true for binge eating.”

He squirmed around again. “Yeah, I see that.” He admitted, hesitance ostensible. “I do that a lot.”

“Okay.” She wrote that down and he watched her, feeling uncomfortable with his truth being laid out there so openly. “I’ve also heard it described as being about control. People find their lives getting out of control and one of the only things they can control is food intake. This control often escalates into obsession. Do you think this is true for you?”

He thought for a second, though he didn’t need to. He knew what it was. He knew where he stood. “Yeah.” The word sounded like a baby was saying it, confused and unsure and new. Like it had to be cheered out of him. “It started when I was feeling really out of control. A lot of it was like— I wanted to hurt myself. I didn’t care about what I looked like or what I weighed. I just wanted to die. And then— then when I was with Ryan and he rejected me, it was about me. My perception of myself. I thought I was unworthy of love. That there was something wrong with me and I had to fix it. He was my best friend and I knew he liked who I was so I thought the only thing he didn’t like was my appearance.”

“That can be really traumatizing for a person.” She pointed out.

“Yeah. It kinda stuck with me. Even now, with Brendon.” Guilt settled in his chest again and he wondered if he’d ever not surprise himself when he mentioned Brendon’s name here. “He’s gorgeous and has a good body and so sometimes I feel inferior. I know he doesn’t think so and he compliments me all the time but it’s just different. I see myself as someone who needs to change. So sometimes, when I’m in a bad place, I care too much about what I look like. But not how others see me. How I see myself.”

“So it’s about controlling how you see yourself, then.” He nodded in affirmation, and realized just then that he had never really put it in words before. He never knew how. It was funny how therapy could change things like that. “So let’s come up with some ways that you can control situations opposed to harming yourself.”

“Okay. Yeah. Let’s do it.” He agreed, and a smile tugged at his lips when he realized that he had a little bit of hope.

* * *

Dally: here

Bumblebee: come up thru the diner!

Brendon waited patiently in the kitchen as he heard footsteps and then the door. “Bren.” He called, but didn’t wait for an answer before he poked his head in the kitchen and saw him sitting at the table, beginning to stand. “Hey. Hi.”

“Hi, boyfriend.” Brendon jumped up and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, careful until Dallon placed a hand on his side and pulled him into a full hug. “Thank you for coming over.”

“Well, I missed you. Hi.” Dallon kissed his forehead but knew Brendon was being careful, he got that way sometimes when things were off. Dallon didn’t know how to tell him not to be so careful with him. Like he was fragile. He wasn’t. He was learning that he wasn’t, anyway. “What are you doing hiding out in the kitchen?” He pulled away, but his hand lingered on his side.

“My mom made cookies. I was feasting.” Brendon smiled up at him. “You want one before I eat them all?”

“Sure.” Dallon agreed after a second, trying not to seem so hesitant, so Brendon went to grab him one, not bothering to conceal his smile. It wasn’t all that big of a deal. It was just that he needed reassurance that Dallon was okay. Constant reassurance, even, as he couldn’t seem to relieve himself of his anxiety no matter how much he played Dallon’s words over and over in his head. I’m okay. I’m okay. He said it, so Brendon wondered why he had so much trouble believing it.

“You wanna go upstairs?” Brendon proposed as Dallon broke the cookie in half. And Dallon had to realize he was on thin ice, he had to, because his eyes flickered all over Brendon’s face as if trying to read him.

“Yeah.” Dallon agreed, realizing that maybe he didn’t want to know.

He followed Brendon up the stairs and looked around, though the decorations never changed. Framed photos of Brendon’s family, his school pictures, his siblings’ graduations. He loved seeing those pictures. It materialized him. Made him realer.

“Sorry it’s so late. My session was scheduled late because I had volunteering today too.” He apologized as Brendon closed the door behind him.

“No, it’s no big deal. I’m just glad you wanted to come see me.” Brendon sat on the edge of his bed and Dallon lingered for a second before he did too. “How was therapy?”

“Good. I actually... I told her about me. My thing. She helped me come up with some coping mechanisms and stuff. How to feel in control.”

Brendon’s eyes softened and he resisted the urge to grin like a child at him. “Good.” He answered instead, and somehow that was just as perfect. “That’s really good, Dal. I’m glad you’re opening up about it.”

“Me too.” He agreed, and he meant it. Brendon leaned in to kiss him gently, testing the waters as if they’d never done this before. But Dallon only touched the side of his face, let him kiss him, kissed back with whatever energy he had left, as he was tired today. Therapy took a lot out of him. “Sorry I’m so sleepy.” He whispered, making himself comfortable in Brendon’s bed as Brendon pulled away to look at him. “I didn’t sleep well.”

“Don’t apologize. You can sleep tonight.” Brendon offered, and Dallon made a noise of acknowledgment, shifting to lay against his chest as Brendon struggled to pull up the covers. “You okay?”

“Mhm. Your bed is comfy. So are you.” He kissed Brendon’s chin and Brendon only smiled, brushing fingers through his hair. Dallon got this way sometimes, when he was tired. Affectionate without reason. Brendon vowed never to take it for granted, as he held him close against him. “I was thinking we could watch a movie or something but I know I’ll probably fall asleep during it.”

Brendon laughed and Dallon huffed, like he wanted to laugh but was too tired. “It’s okay.” Brendon promised, because he liked the sound of Dallon sleeping comfortably in his bed more than any movie, anyway.

* * *

Dally: I had to get coffee for a woman in a pencil skirt and I feel very gay for knowing what a pencil skirt is.

Bumblebee: if it makes u feel less gay I’ve actually worn a pencil skirt once

Dally: that’s hot

Bumblebee: that’s my sisters dressing me up and not giving me a say

Bumblebee: how’s the job?

Dally: good! it’s more of an internship than anything, I only work twice a week because they want me to keep up my academics for my scholarship at the art institute but in the summer I’m gonna start there on a more consistent basis

Bumblebee: I’m so proud of u

Bumblebee: to celebrate I will send pics of me in a pencil skirt ;)

Dally: how about no skirt

Dally: how about no clothes

Dally: jk no pressure

Bumblebee: oh

Bumblebee: I never thought about that before

Dally: me neither honestly I was just joking

Bumblebee: I’m not saying no

Dally: let me get back to work but I’ll talk to you later and maybe we can... discuss ?

Bumblebee: sure :)

Brendon locked his phone and set it down in front of him, eyes wide when he realized what he was doing.

* * *

Brendon was drying his hair from the shower when his phone started buzzing loudly on his side table. He jogged down the hall, hated to miss calls when he wasn’t in a completely horrible mood, and hung his towel over his desk chair as he answered. “Hi!” He greeted, rushing to shut the door because he’d been waiting to talk to Dallon all day. “Tell me everything! How was your day? How was it?”

“It was crazy, Bren. It was so lively and there were so many people and so much good art and I was running around doing stupid little tasks and trying to blend in. I’m not sure how you work almost every day because I was only there for a day and I feel dead. My feet hurt, and I’m exhausted, and I need to shower, and... I’m talking about myself too much. How are you?”

Brendon smiled, tugging aimlessly at the hem of his boxers as he fell back on his mattress. “I’m okay. Worked until a few hours ago. Tired. You’re more interesting. Go on.”

“I’m too tired to talk about work. We can discuss all the boring stuff later.” He dismissed it, and Brendon listened to the ruffle of his comforter as he climbed into bed. “But before I went to bed I wanted to talk to you about... y’know. What we said earlier.”

“Oh.” Brendon laughed quietly and Dallon let out this quiet huff, smiling on the other line because neither of them really knew what to say. “Um. Sending... suggestive photos to each other...?”

“Right. Compromising photos. Photos that could potentially be illegal.”

“I’m gonna be eighteen in a month.” Brendon reasoned. Dallon clucked his tongue, unsure. It was risky. He never thought he’d even want to. “I mean, I know it’s dumb. And normally I wouldn’t be inclined to send revealing photos of myself to anyone. But I feel like lately... maybe it would be nice if we tried it out.”

“I don’t wanna feel like I’m taking advantage of you.” Dallon said hesitantly, tugging at his shirt as Brendon’s fingers traced his own bare skin aimlessly.

“Well, that would hardly be the case. We could just... do it once. For each other’s pleasure. And then we can never do it again if we don’t wanna.”

“So...” Dallon stopped for a second, and Brendon listened to him breathe. “I would just be taking a naked photo of myself alone and sending it to you.”

“Essentially. And I would be doing the same thing.”

“This is so weird.” Dallon laughed, and Brendon grinned up at the ceiling, tugging at the waistband of his boxers. “I didn’t actually mean anything by that, Bren, I didn’t wanna, like, pressure you into sexting me. I didn’t even really think about it. I mean, my body isn’t great, and with everything that happened, maybe it’s not a good idea. I mean, to be so focused on those kinds of things right now.”

“I love your body. And we’ve been doing okay lately, so, I mean... all I’m saying is that I’m down. If you want to, I mean. I know our relationship isn’t all about sex but I’m trying to... y’know, be comfortable again. Self-love, and all that.” He slipped his fingertips underneath the fabric carefully, teasing his own skin as he let himself think about it. “No pressure. But I like doing stupid things with you. It makes me think that someday I could feel normal.”

Dallon let out this quiet breath and Brendon watched the ceiling carefully. “I’m gonna sleep on it.” He decided, and Brendon smiled to himself. “Yeah, I’ve gotta take a minute to think about it. I don’t wanna make a big deal out of it or anything, but you know how I feel about this kind of stuff.”

“I know. No pressure. S’just an idea.” Brendon assured him, but he really did want to. He got up to get himself ready for bed, searching for a hairbrush and still holding his phone to his ear. “I’m gonna go to bed in a few minutes. I’ve been tired. But I’m glad you called. I’ve kind of been thinking a lot about this.”

“Me too, babe.” Dallon admitted, and Brendon found his hairbrush in the top drawer of his desk. “I’ll see you tomorrow and let you know after I’ve thought about it.”

“Yeah. Of course. And Dallon— no pressure.”

“No pressure.” He could hear his smile. “Night, Urie.”

“Night.” Brendon laughed gently as they hung up in unison. And he brushed his hair carefully in the mirror, looked himself over and tried not to judge what he saw, laid a hand on his stomach and then his hip and then at his side. He didn’t know what he was doing. All he knew was that it wasn’t anything he was used to.

* * *

When Brendon got something in his head, it was all he could think about. He fixated on things and couldn’t let them go. Hyper-fixated, really. His doctor had told him once that it may have something to do with the obsessive part of the OCD he was suspected to have. He never thought so. He just thought a lot, was all. Sometimes that just so happened to be about specific things.

“Do you think it would be stupid to send naked pictures of myself to my boyfriend?” Brendon asked suddenly the next day after school, and Tyler glanced up at him as he flipped his notebook shut. “I mean, we’re dating, and I trust him, and it’s not like we haven’t done things so he knows what he’s getting.”

“Brendon, I’m a hoe and I don’t even send nudes. What’s going on with you? Like, a week ago you were talking about killing yourself and now you’re talking about sexting.”

“I wasn’t... I didn’t mean that. I’m not gonna hurt myself. I just... I don’t know. I’m so confused. I’ve been confused lately.” He laid back on Tyler’s bed, frowning up at him like he expected all the answers. He didn’t want to talk about that. It was just a dumb passing thought. “Dallon made a joke yesterday and then I was thinking, like, what if we did? Because, you know, I feel like I finally have my sex drive back, and it could be fun. Playing around.”

“I mean, go for it. As long as it’s consensual and you feel comfortable and everything.”

“Yeah, no, we’re talking about it.” Brendon looked up guiltily, sitting up on his elbows. “Should I not be telling you this?”

“No, Bren, it’s fine. I’m glad you trust me. But... this is kind of a big deal. This is something you wouldn’t have done a year ago. Half a year ago. A month ago, even. What changed?”

“I don’t know.” Brendon shrugged, and he really didn’t. He was just trying to feel something. To secure Dallon. To prove that he was better than Shane had left him. There were a lot of reasons for why he did what he did. He just didn’t know how to put it into words. “I just... need to do something crazy right now. I feel like my whole life is this cycle of routine. I wanna change that.”

“Well, so long as that something crazy benefits you and isn’t killing yourself or something.” He reasoned half under his breath, and Brendon wouldn’t say that that was still on the table.

“Of course not.” Brendon assured him, and Tyler looked over at him skeptically but decided not to push it. They had developed a dynamic where Brendon lied and Tyler let him— neither of them mentioned it. Brendon planned not to until he got himself together.

He looked himself over in the mirror that night and gnawed at his bottom lip, tugging awkwardly at his boxers and wondering if he should actually do it. He looked down at his phone on his ottoman, he and Dallon’s conversation open, and he wanted to feel good about himself. He wanted to feel pretty. There wasn’t any shame in that.

He tugged his boxers down and looked himself over, biting too hard on his lip, he may or may not have tasted blood, as he kneeled down. He grabbed his phone, set a hand on his thigh, tried to look like he wasn’t embarrassed though his cheeks were red and he didn’t quite know what to do.

And as soon as he took the photo he leaned back and sat down on the floor, barely managing to suppress a laugh.

Bumblebee: can I like....... send one

Dally: can I

Bumblebee: this is so awkward

Dally: let’s both just send one and be done with it and we don’t have to do it again if we don’t wanna

Dally: right? just to try it

Dally: like we obviously don’t have to do it

Bumblebee: I feel like I can trust u enough and my parents don’t check my phone and I wanna try it

Bumblebee: I’m a teenager and I’m in love it just makes sense at least I’m not sending nudes to guys the first time I talk to them!!

Dally: if you really really wanna then we can I just don’t wanna pressure you or anything and I’m not trying to coerce you

Bumblebee: this was my idea dal I don’t think that you’re trying to coerce me

Bumblebee: I wanna

Dally: I do too

Bumblebee: so let’s both just send it at the same time

Dally: okay ready

Bumblebee: new picture attachment!

Dally: new picture attachment!

Dally: oh Brendon

Bumblebee: fuck

Dally: you are so gorgeous

Dally: I’m so lucky

Bumblebee: fuck no I’m the lucky one look at u baby you’re so cute your little blush!!!!!!! new lockscreen

Bumblebee: hehe just kidding

Dally: stop you’re so cute

Bumblebee: this was fun

Dally: yeah it was

Bumblebee: and like

Bumblebee: you’re hot

Bumblebee: ;) gonna keep u around

Dally: I think I’ll keep you around too

Bumblebee: I’m glad we’re on the same page, then.

* * *

When they saw each other the next day they couldn’t help but laugh, leaving everyone around them confused because no one else was in on the joke. They were growing comfortable with each other again, Brendon was starting to let himself trust that Dallon was working on his problems, and managing to work on his own too. Self-confidence. It was a virtue.

They sat together in Brendon’s room after school, doing homework though Brendon’s mind was elsewhere, thinking about Dallon and the curve of his hips and how fun he was to kiss. About their connectedness as of late and how safe he felt with him and how he thought he would regret it but he didn’t, sending him that photo, how he just blushed and laughed when he thought of it because it was funny to him, how much things had changed.

“You don’t see me differently now that you know, do you?” Dallon asked suddenly from Brendon’s bed as they did homework from different classes, and Brendon looked up at him, having been lost in thought. “I mean, I was feeling okay about it and then I sent you a picture of me naked and then it just made me feel really insecure and I’m worried that you’re gonna see me differently now that you know about my... thing.”

“Your eating disorder? You can say it, Dal. It’s not a bad word.” He got up from his desk, going to sit beside him on his bed. “Of course I don’t see you differently. I’m glad that you told me. And hey, I liked the picture. You look good. You always look good.”

Dallon half smiled when Brendon’s hand roamed. “I feel better knowing that I’m not hiding it from you. I just don’t want to feel like you’re always worrying about me.”

“I just want you to be happy and healthy because I love you. If you need reassurance then I’ll give it.” He tilted his chin to kiss him slowly and Dallon sighed like it were relieving, maybe, the thought of him loving him unconditionally. That was just what Brendon did. Loved him. It was who he was now.

“I just think I see myself as unlovable and that I need to change something. The only thing I can change about me when I feel that way is something physical.” He admitted like he would admit to his therapist, a willingness to let him in that hadn’t always been there. Brendon loved that. The way he let him in, even though it took time.

“I think I understand. That desire to be less of yourself. I used to wanna change who I was so that people would like me too. But my personality. Cause everyone thought I was weird.” He poked gently at Dallon’s chest and blue eyes watched him carefully, holding on to his words. “I just don’t want you to think you have to change something for me to love you. I worship the ground you walk on, Dallon. You know that.”

“I know. I just... I just don’t feel comfortable being me sometimes. I’m uncomfortable with my own head but I can’t change that. I can only change who I am on the outside. And maybe if I can find a way to connect the two then I can figure out how to—“

“Dallon. Dal, baby, stop.” Brendon shushed him gently. “You don’t need to change anything about you. Your mind is your mind. It’s unique. It’s a part of you. Even the bad parts. You taught me that.” He poked him again, but somehow Dallon managed to smile. “You’re not your body, Dallon. That’s not your worth. That’s not who you are. You’re so much more than what you look like. Or what you think you look like. Okay?” Dallon nodded gently, not quite finding his words, and Brendon asserted, “I wanna hear you say it.”

“Okay. I’m not my body. I’m so much more than what I look like.” He laughed when Brendon pretended to threaten him with a punch, and accepted the way he tickled his sides instead, knowing all his weak spots. “Thank you for trying to help, Bren.” He added when Brendon stopped, leaving him half out of breath.

“It’s what I’m here for.” Brendon shrugged, and Dallon guessed that in a way, he was right.

A support system. Dallon knew he’d end up needing one of those sooner or later.

* * *

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” Brendon asked as he and Dallon sat across from each other on the floor of Kara’s apartment one day after school, babysitting for the new parents.

Dallon had been playing peekaboo with Luca while Brendon organized his stuffed animals from biggest to smallest, in categories depending on their color and species, almost positive that he was having more fun with the creatures than the baby was. He really only seemed interested in Dallon, though Brendon could concede.

“What’s weird?” Dallon asked, but didn’t look up from where he was holding the baby’s hands and making him dance.

“This. Procreation. The fact that we were made literally just to make more of us. What’s the point of making more babies? It’s just this weird cycle that goes over and over and over and over and-“

“Over?” Dallon looked up at him with a smile, and Brendon nodded enthusiastically despite the fact that Dallon was trying to be impish. “I’m not sure if everybody has a specific purpose, you know? It could be just to hang around and enjoy, it could be to find happiness, it could be to leave a mark. Maybe creating another person could be leaving your mark.” The baby wrapped a whole fist around Dallon’s index finger. “Maybe the purpose is to change one person’s life.”

“Then you’ve already found yours.” Brendon said half under his breath, meant for himself, but when he looked up again Dallon caught his eye and smiled. Brendon could feel his cheeks redden, but Dallon looked down at the baby again, preoccupied in making him laugh.

“In that case, I’m all set here.” He shrugged, and Brendon managed a little laugh too. “What’s with all the life talk all of a sudden? Feeling a little philosophical?”

“Just wondering why we’re here, is all. With all the stuff that’s been going on lately I’ve been thinking a lot about people. How they function. Why they function, too. I haven’t figured that out yet.” Brendon grabbed a stray green frog stuffed animal and placed it into its correct category: amphibian, cool shades.

“Well, that kind of stuff is cool to think about, but I think that there will never be a set reason as to why we were created. There’s no proof of God, but millions of people believe in that theory. Of course, then there’s evolution, which people don’t believe in for some reason, but there’s no guarantee that that’s how we’re here. Though that seems to be the most reasonable explanation.”

While Dallon made funny faces at the baby Brendon watched pensively, trying to make sense of it all as usual. “Dallon?”

“Hm?”

“Aren’t you Mormon?”

Dallon looked up at him. “Yeah, I am.”

“But you’re questioning God and talking about evolution. Aren’t you supposed to be an avid believer in God and everything? Not science?”

Dallon sat back and looked unseeingly at the wall behind Brendon in thought. The baby was still holding onto his finger; Dallon shook it a little to make him shake it back. “Uh, I believe in a higher power. But I also think that it’s unreasonable to say that a man in the sky created all of us. I think there’s a fine line between evolution and a higher power. Belief is a spectrum. They’re not mutually exclusive.”

“Oh.” Brendon looked down at Luca, who had resorted to grabbing at his pink elephant stuffed animal, which Dallon retrieved for him. Mammals, warm shades. “I don’t know what I believe in.”

“Well, that’s okay.” Dallon assured him. He felt like at this point in his life he should have some set beliefs and know how to believe it without doubts or insecurity. But it wasn’t that simple. It was never that simple. He was sure he wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

“D’you ever question it? You know, your belief in a higher power?”

“Oh, of course. It’s a highly controversial topic and like every other belief it’s been challenged. Believing in God is just a personal decision for me. Sometimes I need to believe that there’s someone up there looking out for me. Making sure everything is on track.”

Brendon frowned. “But isn’t it confusing? There are so many bad things in the world. If God was real, why would bad things happen? Why would mass murdering and genocide and terrorism be a thing? Why would people die of sickness or like, get severely injured? Even mental illnesses. Why would God make his children suffer from depression or anxiety or whatever? People say that God has a plan and that there’s a reason for everything, but I don’t understand.”

“Well, it’s taught that people need to endure pain and suffering in order to learn to survive. I understand that theory but I’m not a fan. That’s what I don’t get about religion. But it’s also much more complicated, you know? God is complicated. A lot of the things in the bible contradict, and most of it just makes no sense. Like man should only lie with woman or eating shellfish is a sin or you can’t wear clothes of two different materials at the same time.”

Brendon nodded adamantly, watching Dallon pick up the pink elephant and make it dance in front of the baby. “I agree.”

“You know, after my dad died I questioned my beliefs a lot." He added thoughtfully. "I thought, like, how could God be real if He would let an innocent person die like that, you know? He had a wife and a kid and he never did anything bad. I guess it’s all a little blurry.”

“Yeah. I just think it’s weird that we’re all here and then we die and I really don’t get what the point is. If we’re all born to die, what’s the point of living, you know?” Brendon thumbed at the sleeves of his sweater in thought. “I don't know. Life is weird. It’s confusing.”

“That it is.” Dallon stood up suddenly and Brendon’s eyes followed him. “I’m gonna make some mac and cheese.”

Brendon furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at the baby hesitantly. “I don’t think he can have that.”

Dallon half smiled, adjusting his jeans as Brendon watched curiously. “It’s not for him. He can have some mashed peas or something.”

Brendon laughed when Dallon started toward the kitchen, making himself at home like he did everywhere else. He reached out to hold the baby's hand, and he guessed he was just better at some things than others. “Thanks, Dallon.”

Dallon looked over his shoulder at him and winked. “Sure thing.”

* * *

Brendon thought a lot about his place in the world after that. All the stories told that men and women were made to procreate but he didn’t see the point. Everybody died so what was the point of living? A Google search of “what is the meaning of life” did nothing and he didn’t know where else to look for his answers. He just wanted to know why the universe existed if everybody was just going to die off. Why things were the way that they were.

Brendon followed his boyfriend into the apartment and kicked off his shoes by the door. “So... what are we doing?” He asked, going through the motions of kicking off his shoes and heading to Dallon’s room.

“I wanna try something.” Dallon told him, watching the arch of Brendon’s back as he pulled his sweatshirt off. “It’ll take a little while, though. Are you willing to help me?”

“Sure.” He agreed. Dallon turned to look at him, pushed his door shut, and Brendon went to grab his hips playfully. “What exactly am I helping you with?” He asked, but Dallon said nothing, only kneeled down in front of him. Brendon watched warily as Dallon’s fingers toyed with the button of Brendon’s jeans, pushing it out of the slit in the fabric, and moved on to his zipper. ”Dal...” Before he could continue he began to slide his jeans down over his thighs, and Brendon innately reached down to stop him. “Oh. Um. I don’t really feel like...”

“Not sex.” Dallon insisted quietly. “I told you that I never painted a naked model before. When you found out that I’m an artist, you said to let you know if I needed help with that. Now, Brendon, I need help.”

Brendon’s eyebrows went up in surprise, but stepped out of his jeans nonetheless. “You want me to model naked for you?” He asked, taken aback.

“Only if you’re comfortable with it.” Dallon pressed a tempting kiss to Brendon’s hipbone and he reached out to place a hand on Dallon’s shoulder. “Are you?”

“Yeah, no, that’s fine. That’s cool. Are you sure, though? I mean...”

“I’m trying to get used to things. My own body. I mean, you’re the one sharing that with me. So maybe this will... y’know, help me be okay with that. Me getting to know you too.”

“Oh. Yeah. Go for it.” He lifted his hips so Dallon tugged his boxers down too, undressing him gently as Brendon only watched. “Just, y’know. Be generous.”

Dallon laughed quietly and Brendon smiled, feeling as though he were on display at a museum. He found himself feeling that way often, really, as Dallon liked to make him a muse. He sat Brendon down on his bed and went to open his box of oil paints, setting up an easel so Brendon was facing its back.

It wasn’t anything Dallon hadn’t seen before. Anything he hadn’t documented on film. He squirmed as Dallon traced the shape of his body on the canvas. “Hey, Dal? I have a weird question.” He brought up awkwardly as he tried not to shift his position, not having known that being a naked model would be such hard work though compared to what Dallon was doing, he couldn’t complain.

Dallon quirked an eyebrow. “Weirder than having your boyfriend paint you naked?” He queried, making Brendon half smile at the insinuation. No, nothing was this weird.

“No, but still weird.” He figured, and Dallon looked up, nodding to tell him to go ahead and ask. “So, theoretically, if God is real, do you think that He would’ve put some people on the earth as test subjects? Like, to see what kind of hardships people could deal with?”

It sounded idiotic when he said it, but he couldn’t help but believe it. Dallon glanced up at him incredulously, an eyebrow still raised, but he said nothing. Brendon sat up a little, raised his shoulders like it were the easiest thing in the world. Of course. He was just a rat in a maze.

“Because I think I’m one of those people. Yeah. Think about it. Maybe He comes up with all this bad stuff that could happen, all this stuff for the subject to think about like the invasive thoughts and whatever, all this really detrimental shit that virtually no one can put up with. And He assigns it all to one person because He wants to see how much one person can take. He wants to push them to the edge. I think He’s doing it to me.”

“That’s... an interesting theory.” Dallon bit back a smile. He looked pensive, dipping his paintbrush into the dollop of paint on the palette, but he didn’t say anything else. He just looked like he wasn’t expecting that.

Brendon’s shoulders fell, and he frowned when Dallon glanced back up at him to take note of the direction his hair was falling so he could paint the streaks of brown onto the canvas. “You think I’m crazy.”

“No.” Dallon laughed, flicking his paintbrush downward behind the canvas, where Brendon couldn’t see. “No, Bren, I don’t think you’re crazy. I just think that’s an interesting way of seeing things. It may very well be true, but I’m not sure God chose you out of all the people in the entire world to raise hell upon.”

Brendon pouted. He swore it made sense. “But seriously! If you think about it, it makes so much sense. How does it just so happen that all the bad stuff occurs to me, all at once? First the Halloween thing, then the bathroom incident, then I get diagnosed with depression and I have to start taking meds and all sorts of bad shit goes down. And then I start having all these bad thoughts, and then He cursed me with the insatiable desire to know everything, which does not bode well for me.”

Dallon tilted his head like that was just ridiculous. “Come on, Bren. Do you really think God would punish you like that just for the sake of punishing you? I mean, maybe if you did something in your past life and didn’t repent, but... hell, I don’t know. You may just be trying to find someone or something to blame.”

He hated how Dallon had him so figured out. He knew what they all said, mental illness was no one’s fault, but Brendon had always needed someone to blame. He wasn’t any good at this. He needed just a little wiggle room to not be at fault. “Maybe I should stop telling you my thoughts. It’s making me too vulnerable.”

Dallon let out a laugh and looked up to catch the way the sunlight leaked in through the blinds and blocked it into the painting. “You’re sitting in front of me— naked— I’m making direct eye contact with your dick, you sent me nudes like, two days ago, and sharing your thoughts makes you feel vulnerable?”

“Yes, sharing my thoughts makes me vulnerable!”

Dallon snorted. “You’ve got issues.”

“I know! It’s God’s fault!” He exclaimed, making them both burst out into laughter. Dallon paused, and Brendon waited until their giggles had faded away to add, “I know it’s weird. I just want some reason as to why all of this is happening to me. I don’t think I deserve it, but I’m biased.”

“No, I don’t think you deserve it either. But you can’t change the fact that you have a mental illness. If you want my advice, I think you should just leave all the space in your mind to what matters. Maybe focus on how to figure it all out, try to find something that makes you feel better.” Dallon advised. He was quiet for another second while he returned to his painting, and Brendon watched his steady hand move in a straight line downward; Brendon didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. “Besides, even if God did make you a subject for hardship, then you know that you’re stronger than He thought you would be. You know, since you’re still alive. You handled it all, and you’re still alive.”

And that, that was something to be proud of. “Maybe you’re right. I just... I was thinking about it. Belief in God, belief in anything, I guess. People always say that in our hard times we should look to God, or whatever. I hear that sometimes. And I kind of tried, you know, I thought a lot about it since what happened. Thought that maybe if I turned to religion then I would suddenly feel enlightened and see the light or some other cliché. It’s not like I read a bible or went to church or anything, but I thought. Prayed. Can’t God tell what you’re thinking? I don't know. Not important. What’s important is that I didn’t, like... feel anything.”

“You don’t always feel something.” Dallon figured, tilting his head to the side as he dipped the brush into the paint. “I don’t always. But I think God is like a presence that I like to remind myself is there when I need guidance. I’m not one of those people that are totally devout, I’m not gonna insist that God will guide the way and that He has His hands on your life or whatever. Doesn’t always work like that.” He poked his tongue out in concentration. “But once when I was little, I talked to the priest at my church because I was confused and he told me that some people aren’t in contact with God, some don’t feel Him at all. I didn’t feel God. He never talked to me or guided me or whatever, He was just this lingering idea for me, one I was taught to believe in. And my priest told me that God isn’t one entity. You can find God’s light in people. I like to think that sometimes.”

Brendon furrowed his eyebrow and watched as Dallon moved the brush up and down in swift motions. “That like... a person is God?”

“Well, not necessarily. Just that you can find His energy in certain people. It’s just something to think about.”

And maybe Brendon could understand that, that he could find God in a person in his life. That peace, that feeling of content. The belief that somebody can help guide you. Maybe Dallon was that person. He was a Godsend, after all. He was an angel without wings; he wore a halo with every outfit and it always shone so bright that it blinded him. Not that he wasn’t already pretty blind. He could use some guidance.

“Do you go to church, Dal?” Brendon asked suddenly, and Dallon looked up again. “A few months ago you said you wanted to go back to church. I know you went back once or twice but I don't think I know if you still do.”

Dallon shrugged half-heartedly and swirled the brush around in the water like it wasn’t a topic he cared to expatiate on, and Brendon watched as the water turned a brown color with the tint from the paint. “Not as much as I want to. I used to, but for a while after my dad died, I didn’t believe in God. I stopped going to church, skipped every week and shut it out like it never existed to me. Went out and did my dramatics. My mom didn’t know what I was doing, I lied about where I was a lot, but I didn’t care. A big part of me back then was not caring. That included religion.”

Brendon frowned to himself. He knew pieces of the story, how Dallon had turned to destruction after his father died to cope, how he stopped caring about everything, but religion was a topic the two had tended to not go into detail about. “Why’d you stop going?”

“I don't know. I guess for a second I wondered what the point was, you know? I was letting it all get in my head, that it didn’t matter anyway. Cause I’m gay, right? So obviously that must mean they hate me.” He glanced up at Brendon to make sure he was listening. “That’s not the case, though. They think that sin is based on choice. You don’t choose who you love, you can’t help but act on it. They promise me that every time I go, whenever I make the trip. I try more often now. Whenever I’m not too busy.” He shrugged like it was trivial anyway. “I guess I was a sinner anyway, though. Chose to hurt myself and my mom. And isn’t that just as bad?”

Only if the sinner didn’t repent. “But you’re making up for it now, right? I mean, you’re a good son and friend and boyfriend. You’re a good person.”

“Maybe. I don't know.” He changed brushes. “I started to believe again, though. Right before I met you, actually. Went back to church and talked to the priest about everything. Prayed for the first real time in a chapel in... years, I guess. And it was weirdly spiritual for me, you know? Sometimes it wasn’t. Not when it wasn’t important. But this was important. And it was so strong. Like, I felt it in my body.” He put a dramatic hand to his chest and Brendon nodded in understanding. He’d done some praying in his day, before he’d made the decision to leave the church and once in a while after, just in case, but he couldn’t relate. He’d never felt it. “Like I could feel this connection that, for years, I had lost.”

“Oh. Wow.” Brendon shifted, and Dallon glanced up at him as if to tell him not to move.

“Where’s all this coming from anyway, Bren?” He asked just then, and Brendon raised his eyebrows. “I mean, not that I mind it. I like talking about my religion and everything, but it seems like you’ve been so curious about it these past couple of months. Why is that?”

Brendon shrugged. “Just trying to make sense of things again, is all. Lately I’ve been thinking... I don't know.” He shook his head when Dallon looked up again, frowning just the slightest bit. “I’ve been thinking about how I wanted my senior year to be perfect. And instead it’s just been so shitty. And every time I think I feel better I just... don’t. It’s like, for a second I feel okay and then all of a sudden I’m back to feeling like everything is useless. I hate feeling that way. I wish I could just feel better. I know it’s not that simple.”

“I wish you’d feel better too, my love.” Dallon sighed heavily, and Brendon nodded as if to say thank you, that’s a nice sentiment. And it was. It just... it would be better if Dallon's words were magic and that wish could come true. Brendon tilted his head upward to look at the stars. “And it’s disappointing, how let down we were. Our summer was so perfect and then we just got screwed over.”

Brendon forced a smile when Dallon looked up at him again, but they could both sense it. Things had changed since then. Things were different. “Junior year was good.”

“Yeah.” Dallon looked back down at his canvas, away from Brendon’s eyes. Those eyes that knew too much and somehow, not enough. “Yeah, junior year was good.”

“I wish I could say the same about freshmen and sophomore year.” He added thoughtfully, thinking back to when he was at his worst, scared of everything and bullied and, well, without Dallon. The high school years weren’t the best of his life.

Dallon let out a laugh, though Brendon hardly thought it was funny. Ironic, maybe. Then he just returned to painting with a smile, because fuck, Brendon had no idea. “Fuck, me too.”

Brendon smiled at the idiosyncratic boy in front of him as he picked up a smaller brush and dipped it into the paint he’d mixed to resemble Brendon’s skin. Because Dallon was so weird, and sometimes Brendon really just had no idea. But there he was, sitting on the kid’s bed as he painted his dick, and not a second of it was awkward. So maybe Brendon was a little weird too.

“I’m sorry you’re not doing well, Brendon. I wish you were.” Dallon added suddenly, and Brendon nodded shortly. That mattered more than anything, he thought. The I wish you well sentiment from someone who really mattered.

“Thanks.” Brendon said quietly, and they exchanged warm looks, not quite smiling, too earnest to be a smile, before Dallon looked down at his canvas, and they slipped into amicable silence.

Brendon could understand the concept of art, how everybody could create something unique and how it meant something different to everybody. But Dallon’s fascination with Brendon’s naked body was beyond him, really. The photographic evidence, the art based around him: he was trying to memorize his body. That was the truth. Though it had seemed that there were nights where that was all he did, felt every curve of his figure and traced diaphanous fingers on delicate skin, falling in love a thousand times more than he was. That, Brendon could understand.

He watched Dallon add some details into the painting as he hummed quietly under his breath, a sound Brendon had grown used to. He sat focused on Dallon’s face and hands and shoulders and let himself think. About how Dallon said he was doing better lately, and how he’d eaten in front of him without hiding, and how he was going back to therapy. He thought about how his mother was trying a new pie recipe for the diner and how he had to check up on his Animal Crossing town and how he needed to repaint his nails and how he had a take home quiz in math next week.

And Dallon sat across from him, painting a little pink line as the curve of his lip, he’d never been good at lips. It was why he’d spent so much time trying to map out Brendon’s. He glanced up every so often to catch Brendon watching him, watching his hand, sitting with his eyes closed peacefully. Dallon wouldn’t admit it but in that moment he prayed silently that Brendon could always find that peace.

Brendon's phone buzzed on the bed beside him and Dallon made no movement, only continued to blend the colors of the shadows on Brendon’s left leg. Brendon turned to look at the screen inconspicuously, trying not to move too much, not wanting to ruin Dallon’s hard work.

“Hey, Kara is picking me up. She’s gonna be here in a minute.” He told him, and extended his arms like a bird taking flight. Dallon glanced up, then back at the painting, and then set his paintbrush in the jar of water and stood up to stretch his legs.

“Okay. I’m almost done, anyway. I know what you look like by now, so I’ll finish it later. I’ve got a reference photo, anyway.” He approached his restless boyfriend after he had been sitting for a while, itching to get up and move around. He hopped up buoyantly and tilted his head up to grin at the taller of the two, smirking down at him in an imaginary battle that always made Brendon feel weak.

“Haha. Can I see it?” Brendon tried to move past Dallon but Dallon captured his hips and turned him back around before he could step in front of the canvas. He laughed when he pulled him backward and onto his bed, where he landed awkwardly on his side and rolled onto his back.

“No way.” Dallon swung a leg over his side and straddled him, making Brendon raise his hips just the slightest bit to press his body against his. “When it’s done, baby. Be patient.”

“Being patient was never my strong suit.” He breathed out with want before he tilted his head up to capture Dallon’s lips.

Dallon smiled against his mouth, knew Brendon Urie couldn’t be naked with Dallon’s eyes all over him without feeling like something needed to happen. He let a hand trail south, placing chaste kisses to his jawline, and just as he started to make a move, Brendon’s ringtone sounded, and he let out an irritated groan as Dallon splayed his hand across his stomach.

“Fuck,” Brendon whined, squirming out from under the boy to grab his phone, and Dallon shifted to grab Brendon’s clothes for him with a laugh of amusement. The rest of the world. Right. He pulled his boxers on quickly and answered the phone while he had one leg in his jeans, “hey.”

“Hey, I’m here. Come down.” Kara answered breezily as Brendon held the phone in between his ear and shoulder and tugged his pants up hurriedly.

“I guess I ought to, huh?” He smiled up at Dallon suggestively, and the boy smiled back as he handed Brendon his red tee shirt. Brendon slid his arm into a sleeve and added, “I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Okay.” She hung up, and Brendon pocketed his phone before he buttoned and zipped his jeans and found the other armhole.

“Love having no time with you.” He huffed sarcastically, but Dallon just smiled sheepishly as Brendon grabbed his backpack and tossed his socks inside. “Okay. I gotta go. I love you. I’ll call you tonight.”

He placed a hand on his shoulder to tug him down for a kiss. “You better.”

Brendon grinned at him before he hurried out of the room to meet his sister downstairs. Dallon watched him go, smiled after him. Waited until he was gone to fall back on his bed and sigh, because sometimes things felt impossible. Even when it seemed they were looking up. Because Brendon put on a brave face only for Dallon to find out that the past month of potentially being okay was a false alarm, and so was his sense of security. Dallon just wanted him safe.

Why was it so hard to feel safe?


	55. Chapter 54: Rollerblades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My favorite chapter in the fic!

Dallon was laying in bed aimlessly when he heard a quiet knock on his door, interrupting his train of thought, though that wasn’t such a bad thing these days. He turned his head to the side and his mother smiled at him from the doorway, where she remained. “Hey, kid. Can I come in?”

“Mhm.” Dallon pushed himself up to sit so she stepped into the room cautiously and approached his bed. He’d placed the canvas facing the wall where she wouldn’t see it, the paint cleaned and wiped up wherever he made a mess. Brendon may had left, but sometimes his obsession with keeping clean lingered. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to check in. We haven’t talked.” She placed a hand on his knee, and he shifted his weight. She was right, and they hadn’t been keeping up with each other like they’d been trying to. Making sure they talked, kept in touch, didn’t hide things. He really didn’t want to hide things anymore. But it wasn’t done intentionally. He’d just been so focused on Brendon lately, he hadn’t been thinking of himself. He knew he should have been, but... “How are you doing, babe?”

“I don’t know.” He fell back against the mattress with a sigh of distress, and she shifted to lay beside him when he looked up at her, distraught and needing her advice. She could sense the shift in his attitude lately, gave him space to sort things out, but at some point she needed to intervene. He just wasn’t getting anything done. “I mean, things have been so off and on lately. I don’t even know what I’m doing.” He put a hand to his forehead and pushed his bangs up, squeezing his eyes shut. “What am I doing, mom?”

She shook her head when he looked to her for the answers he knew nobody had. “I don’t know, sweetie. What are you doing?” She inquired, and fuck, he hated when she made him think. He hated thinking when he was in a bad place. Fuck thinking.

“I don’t know. Trying to save Brendon when I know it doesn’t work like that? Because I know that I can’t save him. I can only love him. I know.” He emphasized with a gesture of his hands. “And I hate that I can’t, but he’s my best friend, you know? And I’m trying to get through to him, I want him to know that he won’t be this miserable forever, but I never know how well he gets it. I just... I want to be the one that makes everything a little bit more okay. Even if it’s not, I want it to be a little bit more okay. God.” He covered his eyes, willing away tears of stress. “So fucking stupid.”

“Dals, I have a question.” She said quietly, and he dipped his head to look at her with big eyes, expecting the worst because he’d trained himself to long ago. “When you were at your worst, would you have listened when someone told you that it gets better?” Dallon shook his head; she always found a way to get him to think. “Because I know that I told you that. And so did Josh and Ryan and your therapist and everybody else, my boy. But you took time. You took so much time. And that’s okay, and I’m sure you can be patient with Brendon the way we were all patient with you, but you two have had such different situations. You can’t expect the same thing to happen. And you shouldn’t. You should pray it doesn’t, actually. Because you were bad. You remember.”

“Yeah, I know.” He looked back toward the ceiling, where his stars reminded him of wishes that never came true, and some that did. He needed his wish to come true. He needed his Brendon... “God, I was bad. I hope he doesn’t get that bad. I can’t...” He stopped all of a sudden, a sharp pain shooting through his chest like a javelin. He shook his head and closed his eyes; the thought was unbearable. How could he let himself think it? “I don’t wanna say it.”

She reached out to push a tuft of hair out of his face, and he didn’t dare look. “What, Dallon?”

“I can’t-“

“Dallon.”

“I can’t do this for years, mom.” He turned his head to look at her with tears in his eyes, and something in her gaze settled sympathetically, but she said nothing. “I love him so much and seeing him in pain hurts so bad.” He cried as the tears slid out on their own volition. “I want him safe and happy and alive. And— and he hasn’t said anything about wanting to hurt himself but he keeps saying that everything seems useless and that he wishes things could go back to the way they were before. And I know, I feel the same way, but... if it’s like this for years then how will I do this?”

She shook her head slowly, reaching out to thumb the tears off his cheeks. “Honestly, Dallon, you’re doing fine. You know how you were. Sometimes you were okay and sometimes you were really, really bad. You’re taking it a day at a time. And you’re not his parent, and you don’t have to take care of him. You can’t take on another person’s mental illness. You do what you can, but this is not your fault. You hear me? No matter what happens, no matter what he goes through, it is not your fault.”

He sniffled, unsure of whether or not he believed it. “Okay.”

“Okay. C’mere.” She pulled him against her chest, and as he buried his face in her shoulder, she started to thread her fingers through his hair carefully. “You’ve done this forever, honey. You’ve always tried to take care of everyone. But you need to take care of yourself. I don’t want you to go back to that place. I don’t want you to be someone I don’t know.”

“I don’t want to either, mommy, I promise.” He took in a shuddering breath and prayed to God that Brendon wasn’t doing the same across town. And he remembered what Brendon had said to him that night in October, that sometimes he didn't know who he was. The words still stung and now... he couldn't let that happen. Not again. “I don’t wanna be bad again. I’m just...” He stopped, and she ran her index finger knuckle over his cheek.

“What, baby?” She asked with caution.

“I’m scared that something bad will happen to him.” He choked out in a broken whisper. “And that I’m not gonna be able to help. Because I love him, and I don’t know what I would do without him. I don’t wanna know. I just want to help him.”

“Honey, I really think you are. You are.” She pet his hair softly when he burrowed into her, because someone had to protect him for once. Atavism was a last resort but Brendon wasn’t here, he wasn’t saving anyone. He was just trying. “Listen to me. You’re okay. And Brendon is okay. He’s going through a lot and so are you but you need to understand this, Dallon.” She cupped his face and pulled him up to look at her insistently. “You cannot make his mental illness go away. You can make things better but you can’t cure him. And I know you want to, and you want to believe so badly that you can, but you can’t, okay?”

He nodded, but his hands were shaking. “Okay.”

“Okay.” She softened her touch on his face and he sniffled again. She was right. He couldn’t cure Brendon. But it was what he’d devoted his time to, being his cure. And what if Brendon was immune? What then? “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed thickly and reached up to wipe his eyes, suddenly feeling pathetic for the outburst. He had promised all that time ago that he’d talk to her, promised that he wouldn’t hide things. He couldn’t lie anymore. He was way too enervated. “No. I don’t know. I’m gonna try to take a nap, I think.”

“Okay.” She shifted to sit up, taking his face in her hands again. “I love you.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead, and he pouted as she sat up and pat his cheek.

“I love you too.” He peeped, but made no attempt to move from where he was laying on his back as she stood up and crossed the room.

“Dallon.” She said suddenly, and he turned to look at her. “You cannot go to that place again. I know you care about Brendon and you want him to be safe, but the same goes for you. Take care of Brendon, but take care of you too.”

Dallon nodded solemnly, and he knew it was sound advice. Sometimes he just... forgot. “I will. I promise.”

She nodded like she were proud, because it was a major step. A step that, a few years ago, he wouldn’t have taken. Taking care of himself sounded so trivial. When she left the room, Dallon laid on his back and stared up at the stars, the ones that once shone brighter and had long since dulled. And as he exhaled in a sigh of pure exhaustion, he let his eyes fall shut.

"Are you coming tonight, babe?" A timid voice came from the doorway of his room, a soft question that already had an answer. He sat up on his elbows to look at the woman dressed in pale blue, wearing that dress that brought out her eyes. She must had put out his outfit with the hope that things would be different today once the laundry was done and while he was asleep, because hanging over his desk chair was a pair of khakis and a pale blue button-up shirt.

He laid back down, and she exhaled tremulously when her son shook his head. "No."

He closed his eyes again, and they existed separately for a moment, her on one side and him on the other. Things were never meant to be that way, but it was different now. He was growing familiar with the look of disappointment in her eyes when he looked long enough to notice, when he wasn't pretending he couldn't see. Of course he could see it. Everybody was just so damn disappointed.

"Father Morgan is going to be so upset." She said, as if that were an excuse. As if the intention were to guilt him. But the thing was, you couldn't feel guilty if nothing meant anything anymore.

“Well, tell Father Morgan that I am just so damn sorry.” Dallon said, shaking his head slowly because fuck Father Morgan. Fuck a God that didn’t believe in him, fuck a church that he felt unwelcome in. Fuck a world where everybody bowed down to a man in the sky even when he took children’s parents away, because where was the fun in doing good? He didn’t want to believe in that anymore. He wanted to believe that not everything was bad, but the truth was he just wasn’t so sure anymore.

His mother tilted her head to the side, leaning against the doorframe like she needed the support that Dallon wouldn’t give her. “Dals, you know it’s okay if you don’t wanna go to church anymore. It’s been a rough couple of weeks. If you’re questioning-“

“I’m not questioning. I just... don’t know anymore. I’m allowed to not know.” He turned toward the wall. “Doesn’t the church not allow gay people anyway? They probably don’t even want me there.”

She half smiled sadly at her son, only fifteen and so confused at what life was supposed to mean now that he’d experienced it. Or maybe the point was that he hadn’t, and it had been a wakeup call. But for weeks he’d only laid in bed to sulk, kept the curtains closed and the lights off, tucked away under his covers. Maybe he needed to go out searching for who he was now that he realized that wasn’t him.

“You know, they’re not gonna ostracize you now that he’s not here to protect you.” She told him, but all he did was shrug and keep his eyes locked on the stars on his ceiling. If he could have one wish. “Okay. Then I’m gonna go, kiddo. I love you. Be a good boy.” She blew him a kiss, and he let out a sigh before she offered one more sad glance and then disappeared from his room. And when he heard the door close, he sat up. He was going to make a change, all right.

Dallon: if anyone asks, I'm at your house tonight.

Ryan: k. everything okay?

Dallon: you told me that you'd do anything no questions asked. don't ask.

Ryan: okay. stay safe, though.

Dallon dropped his phone onto his bed and left it. Staying safe wasn’t on the agenda. As he stared at himself in the mirror of the compact in hand, he met his own eyes. He dragged a black pencil across his water lines, smudged it in the corner, blinked a few times. And the lord would be watching as Dallon pulled on his tightest jeans and hopped onto a bus to downtown Vegas. The lord would be watching, and his mother would be praying.

Yeah, he could say that Father Morgan would be upset.

* * *

Dallon Weekes didn't know. And that was a blanket statement he had come to terms with long ago, because fuck, he really didn't know. He didn't know why everything was so confusing. He didn’t know why some people who were brought up in the same place were so different. He didn't know why a country needed a god or why he needed one, either. He didn't know why you had to pay to park in some cities even when you paid taxes already or why you had to turn your cell phone off on an airplane and he didn't know why people were denied basic human needs in a corrupt society where they, well, they just didn’t care. He didn't know why he was flashing a fake ID and crossing the threshold of a flashy gay bar in downtown Vegas, either.

The thing was, Dallon Weekes didn't know much about himself, either. What he liked, who he liked, who he was now that his family wasn't. There were different versions of everybody, he wanted to believe. And he was getting sick of the version of him that he was living out. He was getting sick of a lot of things these days. And there were versions he'd always wondered about, ones he had yet to meet but had dreamt about with wonder and maybe a little bit of fear. Well, there wasn't much to fear anymore. Fear was for the unheartless. Tonight he was meeting Dallon Weekes, faceless stranger.

Dallon shook his head to himself, a silent thank you to Ardan Ross for the help. He tucked the ID into his back pocket as he stepped over the threshold, out of one world and into another. One world where he was Dallon Weekes, clean cut Mormon boy who wore button-ups and had scriptures on his phone, to a world where the air was musky and foggy and men were wearing next to nothing. A world that he had yet to be introduced to. Well, tonight was his first hello. His first steps on new land.

A man in a thong (how did he do that?!) walked past the teenager as he held up a tray of champagne flutes. Dallon turned to grab one but stopped himself, instead twisted his body all the way to look around the room. A disco ball hung above the center of the room, spinning fast as lights danced with the people. It seemed to never tire, nor did the men who were drinking and dancing and moving their bodies in ways that Dallon had never pictured or seen before tonight. And it was different, to say the least. Way too different from a world where he was always tired.

He wasn’t even sure what he was doing. Just that his mind had escaped him again, but he’d put a low jack on it and it led him here. Maybe he was thinking that he could finally start to be himself. Maybe he was wondering who that really was. Because he had told his parents but the truth was that he really just... didn’t know. How did you know who you are when you’ve got no basis for self-exploration?

Dallon took a seat at the bar, the hot writhing bodies a little too much to be in the midst of. It was overwhelming, and for a minute he felt like he was in a movie. A movie where the main character was coming of age at the same time that he was coming to a realization. And that took place in the middle of a club, where everything happened in slow motion.

He was taking it in all alone when a boy stepped right up to the counter beside him, smiling with more intent than he would let on. Boys never looked twice at Dallon, but now all of a sudden it didn’t matter. Because he was gorgeous, and he had a salacious look in his eye like he was going to eat Dallon up. "Do you want a drink?"

Dallon looked over the shelf of glass bottles in front of him, glimmering in the shining lights above. Something swirled in his stomach, a pang of guilt. What was he doing here? "No. No, I don't want a drink." With his heart pounding in his chest, he stood up and turned toward the boy, trying hard not to show his fear. They could smell your fear. Tear you apart for it. Tear you apart worse than you could yourself. "I was on my way out, actually."

"Mind if I join you?" He asked then, all sultry eyes and perfect lips and such obvious want. Dallon got it, being a guy and wanting something immediately, being attracted to somebody, feeling just enough pruriency to go up to a stranger in a gay bar. He’d never actually done that, but, well. He said he wanted a little bit of danger.

“Yeah. Join me.” He tried to smile seductively, and it must had worked because the guy smiled back at him like a jungle cat at its prey and little did he know, Dallon would be. The fifteen-year-old wouldn’t tell him that, though. Fuck him if he ruined a good thing.

He followed closely behind as the boy led him toward a door he hadn’t come in through. But somehow he ended up outside, in the alleyway where there was barely any light or civilization. Just street rats and muffled music and Dallon and a stranger.

He pushed Dallon against the wall and leaned in close, making the boy's mouth fall open and his shoulders square defensively. He leaned down to press his lips against Dallon's neck, right above his collarbone, as Dallon reached up to place a hand on his upper back, feeling something rush in his veins as teeth bit at his flesh. Euphoria coursed through his body and he sighed out loud when the boy sucked on his skin, leaving a mark that Dallon would have to hide later. But fuck if it wasn’t good.

The boy shifted to kiss across his throat, to his jaw. Hands held his waist tight, lips attacked fervently, and he was tilting his head back so far that it hit the brick wall. And ow, fuck, what the fuck was he doing? This wasn’t Dallon, and this wasn’t legal. He pulled his hand away suddenly like the boy was on fire, and instead he shoved a little at his shoulder.

"Hey, wait." Dallon stopped him, and he pulled away with confusion in deep brown eyes. They were beautiful, and maybe if Dallon needed that form of comfort. He loved brown eyes. He loved dark hair, too. But there were some parts of his innocence that he hadn't been robbed of yet, and those parts he held close to him. "I'm sorry. I’m just..."

"Not interested. I got it." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stepped back, shaking his head as if to say it was no big deal. Dallon shook his head too, because it wasn't that. It really wasn't that. He just didn't know what he was doing, was all.

“No. Um. I’m just. Not really into hookups, that’s all.” He defended his decision and shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly nervous. He wasn’t so sure about skipping out on church now that he had a boy at his disposal and the free will to do what he pleased. What would God think? What would his father think? He took a second look at him, and, well. He was pretty damn heavenly.

“That’s cool.” He shrugged like it was no big deal, like Dallon was one of many options, and Dallon was about to step away and flee to the street where he could find his way home before the boy tilted his head up and said, “I know how to get to the roof. You wanna come up?”

Dallon frowned at him, tried to figure him out with a single glance only to learn that it wasn’t that simple. But then again, when was anything? The whole world was so bad at simple. “Sure. Why the hell not?”

He really had no idea what he was doing. But that seemed to be a theme because Dallon had been lost for a while, trying to find himself but realizing that that wasn’t happening anytime soon. But at least he had a bird’s eye view of Vegas, an artificial city with artificial people that he never had plans to leave.

"You got a name?" The guy asked when they were sitting on the edge of the building, looking down at the alleyway beneath them, the occasional pair sneaking out the back door.

Dallon looked back at him, eyes narrowed dangerously in the light of the moon and the streetlights. Vegas could be blinding, sometimes. So could the rest of the world, he guessed. "James."

"James. You want a smoke?" The boy held out the pack of cigarettes, a peace offering. An I forgive you for not wanting to fuck me offering. And who was Dallon to deny the kid a little peace? So he took one with a nod in consideration, rolling the stick in between his fingertips as the boy fiddled with a lighter with a money print on it and then lit the tip. "So, what are you doing here? Y’know, if you’re not into hookups. No one here is exactly looking for love, you know." He wasn’t expecting love, to be fair. He was just expecting to feel something. He hadn’t found that either.

Blue eyes fixated on the old pair of dirty converse as they dangled off the edge of the building dangerously, just a step away from... well, he still didn't know. The jury was still out on that one. Processing. Dallon brought the cigarette to his lips and sucked nicotine deep into his lungs. "I don't know. Night off. Everything's driving me fucking crazy. I, uh, I live in BC."

He turned to look at Dallon's sullen face, contoured by the moonlight and pale, too pale to believe that July was just around the corner. "No shit. Near the hoover dam?"

"Why does everyone care so much about the hoover dam?" Dallon asked, smoke swirling up in front of his charcoal lined eyes. At that, he laughed, and Dallon clucked his tongue. “Yeah. Near the hoover dam.”

“So what are you doing in Vegas, then? BC too conservative for you? Not big on you being gay?”

“No. Not too conservative. I just... I wanted to be somewhere else tonight. Everything in Vegas feels so superficial and plastic. I feel that way sometimes.” He looked down, catching a boy tugging another down the alleyway. Unsafe as it was, it was probably best. He’d seen what the world could do. Maybe he was better off hiding in alleyways too.

He looked toward Dallon, but Dallon didn’t look back. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head, throwing his hands up in a shrug of defeat. “I don’t know what I am. And that’s fucking stupid. Because I like guys. I do. I mean, that’s a fact. I like guys. And I’m gay. And I told my father that a few weeks ago, before he died. I’m gay. The words rolled off my tongue so... easily. But how do you know if you’re gay? Like, really? Because what if this is me trying to rebel because I’m mad at the church or something, what if for the past few years I’ve been in some phase and just now I’m trying to label it?”

The boy leaned back on his hands, lips pursed in thought and eyes trained on Dallon’s. “Let me ask you something, James. Me kissing your neck earlier. That feel good?” He asked, and gently, Dallon nodded. “You ever kiss a girl?”

“Nope. Never kissed a guy either, so. Have nothing to compare it to.” He shrugged again. “But I’ve never been attracted to girls. Just boys. What does that mean?” He looked at him like he had all the world’s unspoken answers. Like this random boy he met in a gay bar in downtown Vegas had all the answers. “Because I can’t help but feel like I’m not actually gay. Or whatever I am. Because what if I told my father that I was gay and then found out that I’m not? What if I lied?”

He shrugged too, at a loss. “Then you’d have to make your peace with it, I guess. I’ve never been in that position but I’m sure it ain’t easy. But at this age, you’re still figuring shit out. So hey, maybe you’re gay. Or maybe you’re bi. You sure as hell ain’t straight. You’re wearing eyeliner.” He pointed out, and Dallon couldn’t help but laugh.

“Shit, I guess you’re right.” He sighed, smile lingering, and scratched at the sparkly material of his jeans. Yeah, okay.

“I mean, the offer still stands. I can fuck you tonight. Or you can fuck me, whatever. See if you like boys as much as you think.” He looked suggestively toward Dallon, who quirked an eyebrow back at him. Maybe he’d take up the offer if he knew. If he wasn’t fifteen, if he wasn’t confused, if he wasn’t dead set on keeping himself pure. Some part of him had to be.

“I think I’m okay, but thanks for the offer.”

“Worth a shot.” He shrugged, no shame in trying, and Dallon had to admire that. He hadn’t even learned his name, wasn’t sure he wanted to, but sometimes it felt nice to get everything off his chest. He could never tell his mother, and Ryan and Josh cared too much for his own good. He looked down at his lap and tried to smile. He really did. But he just... couldn’t find it in him. “Your dad is dead?”

The question didn’t shock Dallon, really. Just made him frown again, because what was the point in smiling when he really had no reason to? “Yep. Drunk driving accident. Dead on impact.”

The boy frowned too, and Dallon ran his hands over his jeans. “Shit. Sorry for your loss.”

“Yeah, everyone is.” Dallon nodded slowly like the gratification meant anything to him, but the truth was those words had died with his father. Everyone was sorry, but no one cared. Everyone knew, but no one knew. He was so sick of people saying that they knew when they didn’t. Nobody knew him. Not anymore. Nobody knew anything. “But thanks.”

“Sure.” He reached over to pat his back like an old friend. “And hey, sexuality can be hard to define. Don’t beat yourself up over it. When you know, you know. It always takes a little bit of time.” And then he stood up with a grunt, and Dallon turned to watch him stub his cigarette out before he flicked it over the edge of the building swiftly. “Listen, James, it was good talkin’ to ya. I’ve gotta get goin’, but don’t worry about everything. You’ll figure it out, yeah?” Dallon could only nod, because God, he hoped so. “Cool. I’ll catch you later. Tell the hoover dam I said hey.”

He huffed out like he was trying to laugh but couldn’t, though the sentimentality was there. “Yeah, I will. Thanks.” He nodded back at him in gratitude and the boy nodded back, happy to help. Just a stranger helping another stranger. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” He waved joyfully with that beautiful smile before he disappeared, and Dallon turned back toward the world, feeling empty at the absence of his company but he was empty anyway. He hadn’t even asked his name.

He looked out over the city. He was far from home, and from the roof he could see flashing neon lights and what happened behind the scenes. People dressed up and shimmying into clubs and bars and casinos. Gambling their money away or drinking themselves half blind. Sneaking out to make out in alleyways, never with who they came with. Dallon wasn’t who he came as. And he wouldn’t leave the same. He’d never be the same. And the music never faltered, and the world never blinked. He glanced down at the pale flesh of his forearm, stared for a long time.

Who could it hurt? Dallon was already hurt. He pressed the burning tip to his skin, and tears filled his eyes as he persisted.

He was so, so far from home.

* * *

Bad summers. They were a staple of who Dallon Weekes was after the dreadful May that had left a scar on what had once been a perfectly unscathed boy. The heat was scorching and sweat dripped down his back as he looked out at the desert beneath him, a stretch of sand and rocks and holy ground that seemed like anything but. But these bad summers had found themselves the province of Dallon’s being. Something that simultaneously built him up and knocked him down.

The thing was, it kind of all started with a pair of rollerblades.

“What are you doing?” A five-year-old Dallon climbed onto the couch and poked his head in front of the pad of paper resting on the wooden easel in front of his father. The man sat back, let the child crawl into his lap, wrapped his arms around his son.

“I’m doing a still life.” His father informed him as he tried to squirm out from under his grasp. Unable to sit still, the boy made grabby hands at the paper.

“What’s that?”

“Well...” He wrapped his hands around Dallon’s waist and set him down beside him on the couch. “It’s a drawing of something done in real time.” He pointed to the strange objects on the table. A glass bottle of lemonade, a single daisy stolen from the bouquet in the center of the kitchen table, and a pair of rollerblades.

“Why those shoes?” Dallon pointed at the object, still assimilating as a young child did, and his dad smiled while he watched the boy try and figure out just what these objects had in common. Nothing, and that was the point. He hadn’t known it then, though he did now.

“They’re rollerblades. They’re shoes with wheels, you know? Like your scooter or a bike. Except just shoes. And they were just lying around, so I’m drawing them. It makes you a better artist.” He explained with a gesture between his sketchbook and the items placed strategically in the center of the table.

Dallon looked up at him with big blue eyes, filled with all the wonder of the world and stars in his gaze, and reached out to grab at a pencil from his box. “I wanna try.” The child insisted, and who was his father to deny an eager learner? So he tore off a piece of extra paper from the pad and handed it to the boy, who was grinning madly as he started to scribble out the shape of the first rollerblade, sitting upright beside the one that was lying on its side.

And little did he know, it would be his first of many.

Flash forward ten years, and Dallon was cleaning out his closet on a day the sun wasn’t out. He’d been on and off, it had been a few weeks and he was trying to stay occupied. Keep himself busy. It had been a tough summer so far, and he needed to stay out of his bed. His mother had made him promise to stop moping, get up and do something that would make him feel better. Cleaning... maybe that would help some.

So he was flipping through old sketchbooks, tossing old boxes into the trash bag at the end of his bed. Grimacing at old clothes he had actually worn, seriously, and pushing aside things he didn’t really need anymore to get rid of. And then he saw them sitting there in the corner, beside a bag of old clothes and a box of colored pencils. A pair of pale, worn out pink and blue rollerblades. And it was like a knife to the gut.

Something in his chest ached and hot tears pricked at his eyes as he stared at them until his vision blurred. And then he slid down the wall until he was on the floor, and he hadn’t realized he was sobbing until he couldn’t breathe. He gripped his stomach as he doubled over with his knees to his chest, trying to curl in on himself and hide. All of a sudden he just... didn’t want to be there anymore.

Everything seemed so useless. Because why was it that in one second, one stupid second where a man made a wrong move on the road and crashed, did another man have to be there? The wrong place at the wrong time, of course, but was Dallon supposed to be okay with the fact that he was gone? Was he supposed to make peace with it and move on? Because he wasn’t sure he could do that. He wasn’t sure he could make amends so easily.

In that closet he learned that there were some wounds that would never heal. Some stitches that came out ineffective, bruises that hurt twice as much when manipulated. He just felt so fucking manipulated. And in that closet, in the middle of a panic attack where he had to clutch his chest and try so hard to catch his breath, he knew that it wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair, death wasn’t fair, and if nothing was fair then nothing mattered. And if nothing mattered, then, well. He could do just about anything.

It was just a pair of rollerblades. Just a symbol of what had once been.

And it left him standing there in the hot sun, staring with squinted eyes out at the road. Cars sped by in an endless stream and people went about their busy lives. And the thing was that there were stories to be told by each and every one of them, stories that Dallon would never know. Because maybe the woman who snapped so harshly at somebody in line at the grocery store, so far off from her gentle demeanor, had just been told that she couldn't have children. Maybe the boy who sat quiet and undisturbed in the corner was only quiet because at home when he spoke, he was punished in the form of too loud screams and broken bottles. Maybe the child who stayed inside at recess chose his path because somewhere out there was something that scared him so deep that it slipped right there into the spaces between his ribs, filling him with constant panic. Because the world was too much, people were too much and he was scared.

Or maybe the figure standing on the edge of a rocky Nevada cliff was risking his life because the world took it a little too far, and he would be damned if he didn't either.

He wiped the back of his wrist across his forehead, dripping with sweat and finding himself glaring. The city was a hive, buzzing with activity and raring with feelings that he couldn't find hope in. Who cared what they did? No one cared about anything anymore, anyway. They all just cared about themselves. And if it wasn't beneficial to them, then, well, fuck it all. Fuck. How was he supposed to care when no one else did? He was just a kid, anyway.

It was a fact: humans evolved from primitivity. Before there was language and art and music and a world to explore, a world to hate, people were alone. They were born alone, they lived alone, they died alone.

But were people really alone, or was that just an illusion?

Because understood was the prospect that humans evolve. From savagery to a social species, they’ve evolved. But humans are a tribal species, too. They thrive in packs, and they live off of other people. They’re wired for connection. And the myth of solitude said that humans have an innate need to belong. Genetically, people aren’t wired to exist alone. They should be surrounded by other people. And sometimes it got to a point where it just didn't matter, because everybody had their reasons. Dallon’s reasons were clear: nobody did anything for him, so why should he do anything for them?

The thing was, Dallon hadn’t always been this way. He was kind and quiet and respectful. Close with his family, a good son, a good friend. He had just been a little hurt. People could get hurt sometimes. And Dallon learned that spring that he and pain were not mutually exclusive. While his parents had taught him a lot more than a boy at fifteen would know, they never taught him how to cope with losing his father. So was it his fault if he went a little off the rails?

Rousseau depicted man as inherently good. Because coming into the world you see things in a brand-new light. You’re unscathed, you’re not jaded, and therefore by association you’re good. And humans really just thrive off of what makes them feel good. And sometimes it’s going to the park in the middle of the night, or sometimes it’s a disco. Sometimes people get that thrill from diving down a waterfall or singing at the top of their lungs, dancing alone when nobody is watching. People do what they think are good ideas, because they are good ideas. And therefore, humans are inherently good. They’re undeveloped, they’re stupid, but they’re happy.

And the goodness is found in how those people achieve that ultimate destination: a feeling of ataraxia. It’s about finding moments that make your heart pound, moments that make you never want to close your eyes because you’re afraid you’ll miss something. Moments where life is going at a hundred miles an hour and you get that feeling deep in your bones like you know in that moment you’re really, truly living.

And people will gravitate toward whatever makes them feel to get that stupid, happy rush. That feeling of living. And sometimes, it was just a stupid rush. A feeling of not knowing what it was like to really live.

Humans are innately good. It was a belief that had been challenged quite a few times in the young boy’s life, and for a long time he wanted to believe it was true. But slowly, his belief was slipping, and those moments that were supposed to make his heart pound made his head spin too, until he was dizzy and didn’t know what direction he was headed. He didn’t want to keep his eyes open; he didn’t have anything good to miss. Rousseau believed that mankind was inherently good, but Dallon didn’t really think that at all anymore.

The summer was calescent, and Dallon was unforgiving.

“I screwed up,” Dallon admitted as he limped into the kitchen, covered in dirt and a stupid sheepish smile that only widened his mother’s eyes.

And as she opened her mouth with infuriation clear in her eyes, he wondered if maybe the stupid happy rush was worth it.

She had a bandage in one hand and safety pins in the other as she directed him toward the couch and made him tell her why he showed up looking like he’d gotten into a bar fight. She all but shoved him back against the arm of the couch when he told her, because she damn well knew that Dallon had been fucking up lately. Putting himself in danger just to feel something. Well, how the hell did he feel with a sprained ankle and a poor sense of self?

"Don't be an idiot, Dallon." She huffed under her breath as she didn’t dare look at him. He tilted his head back and glared at the ceiling, and he dared God to give him his worst. You think you already got him good, huh? Dallon was no fucking coward. He'd fight until the ending. Show him who was boss. Come fucking get him, then.

"Ah." Dallon gasped when she wrapped his swollen ankle in the bandage, pulling a little too tightly. And maybe she did it on purpose, but it was unnecessary. After her lecture at the beginning of July, when he had not so accidentally cut his wrist open on the can opener in the kitchen, he wasn't risking another failed attempt. This... this was just prototype. If something happened, then it happened. Not his fault. God's. "Mom, that hurts."

"Good." She tightened the dressing and he looked forward to glare at her. "I mean it, Dallon James. Don't you dare do that again. You think this is going to make you feel better? Hurting yourself? Because you being dead won’t bring him back. You understand?” She snapped, and Dallon kept his jaw locked. “Answer me. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Ow!” He pulled his leg back to his chest and narrowed his eyes dangerously at her, holding his leg close like she were about to tear it off. She looked like that may be her next resort. “Jesus Christ, if I don’t kill me then you might.”

“You think this is funny, Dallon?” She grabbed at his leg and pulled it back rather harshly, and he gasped but shook his head. No, not funny. "I'm goddamn serious. You better not do it again. Do you hear me?”

Dallon nodded, but he knew the score. Don't do it again, she said. Well, he'd see.

* * *

He knew he wouldn't keep his promise.

He never did. He found it just a little rebellious, telling lies just for the thrill. Making promises he promised to break. Well, what was the use? He wasn't planning on sticking around, anyway. He wasn't keeping track anymore, either. All he knew was that it was day after day until his mother wouldn't look him in the eye anymore. He was falling into his improbity far too fast.

Dallon couldn’t be found at home in the middle of the night for three summers straight. It had become typical at some point, for his mother to wake up only for her son to be gone. It had worried her for a while, but by the second summer he had promised not to make so many mistakes. She found herself trusting him more than she should have. But that first summer was different. Dallon shouldn't have been on his own. But when he wasn’t home, he was out trying to find himself. And sometimes he found himself searching where he shouldn’t be, and sometimes he just found himself walking alone at night. Searching for himself, searching for a sign.

He never got one.

“The thing is, I don’t get it, you know? What’s the point? I mean, I’m told this early that I need to know what I want to do. And I don’t. And that’s not the kid you raised. You raised someone who should have himself together. Because you always had yourself together. You always did what was best for everyone else but you... you found a way to spin it so perfectly. Like everything you did was just right. And now... fuck, I can’t even kill myself right.” He laughed pathetically up at the sky, and he got no answer. Was he expecting one?

It was stupid. Because it was a night after he’d been released from the hospital for the second time in two months, the first being for his ankle that needed a checkup, and now...

His mother would be pissed if she knew.

He hadn’t meant to sneak out. Really. He’d just wanted to get out and get some fresh air. He’d began to see spots, the fluorescent lights and white walls and linoleum floors hardly kept him sane, and his own room felt so empty after not having been lived in for weeks. The hospital and the psych ward, the way he’d gotten used to sticking his forearm underneath the toilet paper dispenser in the bathroom stall every day after dinner when everyone was in group because they told him not to do it anymore but he didn’t care. How he didn’t know what he was doing, how he desperately wished he did. He just needed some control.

The stars hung heavy in the sky above and Dallon was laughing like he were insane. Maybe the past month proved it. Maybe Dr. Winslow was right and he was trying to hurt himself because he felt like he didn’t have control of the pain otherwise. Maybe his mother shouldn’t have trusted him to sleep alone in his room just a month after he’d downed a bottle of pills, but to be fair she did hide everything from the bathroom and kitchen that he could possibly hurt himself with.

She just didn’t think he was going to sneak out in the middle of the night to visit his dead father’s grave.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, daddy.” He said, reaching out to run his fingers over the mound of dirt where grass was beginning to grow. “I don’t know what to do or who to be. I don’t even... fuck, I don’t even wanna fucking be alive anymore.”

His laughing turned into sobbing, and then he was just... lying there. Lying there alone in the middle of the night with the grass underneath him, feeling the heat of the summer grip him tightly and pull until he was sure he was suffocating. And that was what it all came down to: he was alone. Because no matter how many times his friends said they were there for him, or how much his mother told him she loved him, he was alone. He knew it now more than ever. He was so goddamn viscerally alone.

One, two, three. And he screamed as loud as he could, but no one ever heard it because it was all in his head.

“It’s just so fucking ironic, you know?” He asked with a teary laugh, desperate for an answer though he knew he wouldn’t get one. “That two months ago I was... I was so mad at the world because death exists. I was pissed. Because it’s not fair. And now I’m mad at the world because it won’t let me die. And I know— I know I have to be here for mom, and I have to be the man of the house or whatever, but how am I supposed to take care of her when I can’t even take care of myself? It would just... be easier if I were gone. She would be better off if I were gone.”

He closed his eyes, shaking his head like he was berating the world because it wasn’t fair. How could it withhold him from what he knew he deserved when it hadn’t granted his father the same luxury? How could it tease him, dangle a perfect opportunity of escape in front of his eyes and then pull it away. Taunting him, daring him to take it on.

And he knew that he was being stupid, lying there in the cemetery in the middle of the night crying. He knew. And he knew that no one was there with him, because he was alone. He couldn’t stand being alone. And he couldn’t stand the looks of sympathy, the way everybody worried for him. He was something to worry about, all right.

And no matter who he talked to, the visceral feeling of being so fucking lonely still settled deep in his soul. He could sit there and cry all he wanted, he could slide down the sides of ditches in the middle of the desert and roll his ankle so badly that it was swollen for weeks. And he could hurt himself, down a handful of pills, pray that he wouldn’t wake up, but it was no use.

Because when the sun peaked over the horizon, he was still alone.

* * *

He stood there for a minute and stared, but he didn't feel anything. He used to come here every Sunday, sat right in between his mother and father, closed his eyes and prayed like he was taught to do. And things were consistent for a while until they weren't, and then he stopped going, and then Dallon did too. Because there was no use worshipping when the one you worshipped tore somebody away from you.

So what were His intentions? Was it done maliciously or with purpose? With fault or virtue? Because Dallon couldn't figure it out. He used to not think so hard about it. But somewhere along the line it became different, and now he was left with questions he didn't know how to answer. A God he wasn't sure he believed in. And no matter what happened, everything led him right back here. Right back in his church, where he'd confess to release his soul from eternal question. He slid into a pew.

As he folded his hands in prayer and ducked his head, he stared down at the little faded mark on his inner left arm, and he wondered where he went wrong. Because maybe he was just one big mistake. Maybe he was worthless, maybe he was a waste, and maybe everyone was right about him. He was disappointing. And he was good at pretending he was okay. Or maybe he wasn't, because he couldn't hide anything anymore. Whatever wasn't locked up and deadbolted was out there for everybody to see like he were on display.

"What the fuck is that, Dallon?" Ryan's shout— one of the only times Dallon had ever known him to get truly angry— echoed through the desert as they stood facing each other defiantly. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to let his tears spill. He knew that the church was against him in so many ways, what was one more? What did it matter?

"It's none of your business." Dallon shouted back, the sound reverberating as the three boys stood far apart now, Ryan and Josh on one side and Dallon on another. The broken-down car was sitting motionless on the side of the road, and Ardan set out to find gas. It was pushing midnight, and Dallon hadn't meant to push his sleeves up. He hadn't meant to start a war.

"If you're hurting yourself, Dallon." He threatened, but it was an empty threat. What would he do, hurt him more?

"What, Ryan? What are you gonna do? You gonna tell me to stop? Because that isn't your fucking call to make!" He stepped closer dauntingly, and Ryan's jaw locked. "What, are you gonna tell my mom on me? Do it. I bet she wouldn't fucking care, anyway. No one fucking cares."

Ryan's fist hit his jaw before either of them could register it, and Josh's gasp resounded through the dry desert air as Ryan shook his fist and Dallon stumbled back before he tripped over himself and fell. "What the fuck is that, Dallon?" He repeated, stricter this time, and Dallon's eyes were wide before they were narrow.

"It's a goddamn burn from a goddamn cigarette that some guy gave me, okay?" He snapped, holding his hand against his aching jaw. "And I don't know his fucking name, but he didn't pretend to care about me. He didn't care about me. And it was so fucking nice to talk to somebody who wasn't pitying me for once."

Ryan shook his head in disbelief and Josh was silent, trying to decide whether to hold a fuming Ryan back or to help his bleeding friend who was sat on the dusty ground, staring up at Ryan like he couldn't believe he didn't see it before. "Jesus Christ, Dallon, where did— when did this happen? Where did this happen?"

"At a fucking gay bar, Ryan, okay? I went to a fucking gay bar."

"Why?!"

"Because I'm gay!" He yelled, and the two pairs of brown eyes were the only ones for miles that had stared back at him, though the desert heard it first. He tilted his head to the side and spit out a mouthful of blood, and then he got up and glared at them as if he dared them to say something. Just fucking try it. "I'm going to wait in the car."

“Dal-“ Ryan tried, though the boy had already turned his back, where blood seeped through from the scar from the knife. He hadn’t meant to, really.

“Let me.” Josh interrupted with a gesture for Ryan to stop, please, before he took off after an indignant Dallon. He let the boy have a minute, let him kick sand at nothing and curse to himself before he climbed into the backseat. For a minute he sat alone, head against the backrest, and then Josh crawled in with concern clear in his eyes, and Dallon avoided his gaze completely, instead stared at his thighs. “Hey. Let’s talk.” He urged, keeping his hands to himself.

Dallon shook his head in exhaustion like all of his energy had bled out of him and seeped deep into the desert’s sand. Fuck, he didn’t want to talk. He just wanted to go home. “I don’t want to.”

“Okay. Then I’ll talk, you listen.” He stood his ground, and Dallon exhaled shakily, knew that he would. “I know that you feel out of control and scared and this is hard for you. I know. But you’re so fragile right now, Dallon. And Ryan could have handled that better but so could you. You can’t shut out the people who care about you right now. You can’t do that to yourself, man.”

“I know.”

“And you know that there are people who love you. I love you, and he loves you, and we want you happy and healthy and safe and alive. I need you alive. And you’re not okay right now, and maybe you haven’t been okay for a while. And... I should have noticed. I’m sorry I haven’t.” Dallon shook his head as if to say not to worry about it, it didn’t really matter anyway. No one ever noticed. “Sorry about your face, too.”

Dallon huffed out like he was trying to laugh but couldn’t. Josh tried to smile, but even that seemed trivial now. So Dallon took his hand when he extended it, a reconciliation if anything. And he didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say anything, just sat there and closed his eyes and held onto the hand in his, praying silently as he tried to find peace in the quiet of the desert.

The sudden sound of the door to his right opening got his attention, and he peeked up as Ryan nodded his head. “Move it.” He urged, and quite frankly, Dallon was too tired to fight anymore. He’d been fighting too much, waging wars he didn’t know how to win. He didn’t want to do that, not with Ryan. So he sighed, scooted into the middle, and Ryan slid in as he pulled the door shut behind him. Dallon closed his eyes again. “I shouldn’t have punched you. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head like it wasn’t important, anyway. Maybe he deserved to be punched in the face. “S’okay.”

“I’m not sorry for bringing this up, though, because it’s a serious issue, Dallon.” Ryan slid his fingers into the spaces between Dallon’s carefully, whiskey eyes staring solemnly at the broken boy beside him. Dallon inhaled, knew what he was going to say. He always goddamn knew what he would say. “Why are you hurting yourself?”

“Because I don’t wanna be here anymore.” Dallon whispered, the words not foreign on his tongue. He’d spoken them one too many times, to himself under his breath through tears in the dark of his room in the middle of the night, screamed through the desert when he was alone, miles away from the neon lights. It wasn’t foreign to him, but tears slid down Ryan’s cheeks when he said it.

“Dallon,” Josh sighed speechlessly, leaning in to rest his chin on his shoulder. “Dal, you can’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true. I don’t. I don’t... have a reason to anymore, I guess. I’m just tired and sick of everything and I wanna die.” He threw his head back, eyes still closed and body shaking. He’d never meant to tell them, wanted to keep it a secret until he was gone, but everything felt estranged in the desert. He could pretend it wasn’t real. As long as he didn’t open his eyes, he could pretend it wasn’t real. “God, I wanna die so bad.”

“Fuck.” Ryan cried quietly, his hand trembling in Dallon’s like he couldn’t help the reaction. And Dallon dared to look at him, but it was a mistake. It was a mistake, because he’d only seen Ryan cry at the violent hands of his father, and that had been years ago. Now Dallon was to blame, and he swore he would never...

“I’m sorry.” Dallon apologized, but he wouldn’t take it back. He couldn’t. You can't take the truth back. Still, he could lie, say that it was just a slip up. Try and shake it away until they forgot all about it. Him.

Ryan shook his head, Dallon had nothing to be sorry about. He couldn’t help that he wanted to walk off a windowsill. He just did, and they just... really wished they knew, at least. They should have known. Ryan sniffled at the same time that Dallon did, and when Josh tried to smile, Dallon looked away. Couldn’t handle him trying to make light of a dark situation.

“Hey...” Ryan whispered suddenly, reaching up with his free hand to touch Dallon’s face. And Dallon met his eyes painfully, tightening his tenacity on his hand, and Ryan swiped his thumb across his bottom lip gently. “You’re bleeding. I’m sorry.”

Dallon shook his head minutely, trying to make sense of this all. He was exhausted, he could feel it in his bones, but none of this made sense. He wanted to disappear, but sometimes he felt like he already had. Was he gone already? Was it a fever dream where he was in between the middle of being there and being gone? Was the vacant desert just a metaphor for a liminal space where he didn’t really exist anymore?

Dallon swallowed thickly, stared his best friend in the eye. That was a look of fear if he’d ever seen one, a look that apologized and swore he hadn’t meant to hurt him. He just wanted to get through to him, was all. And he did. Maybe he did. Or maybe that was Dallon pretending again.

“Not to interrupt your weird about to kiss moment, or whatever, but, um.” Josh tapped Dallon’s shoulder, making him tear his gaze away from Ryan’s. “I can see what you mean. About you being gay.”

Dallon let out a laugh through tears, and Ryan smiled. That was something he was planning on keeping a secret too. Because he didn’t know, really, he was just kind of assuming things now, trying to assign labels when he didn’t know what else to put his soul into. But his soul was confused too, and he was letting unfamiliar feelings get the best of him. Ryan rested his hand on Dallon’s shoulder, brown eyes shining, and said, “So. You are? Gay, I mean?”

Dallon sighed and let his head fall back against the seat. “I think so. I don’t know. I like boys, I guess that’s what you guys should know. I got to tell my dad before he died, but I’ve been having doubts. Not about liking guys, just... I don’t know. I’m confused. And I’m scared.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Josh assured him, and Ryan was quick to nod in agreement. “You don’t have to know. All you have to know is that we love you and you’re our best friend and no matter who you are we’ll be here for you, man.”

“Thanks.” Dallon whispered, squeezing both of their hands in gratitude. “I just... I don’t know how to do this. Any of this.” He raised his arm a little, but they didn’t have to look. They knew.

“I... don’t know what to say.” Ryan’s voice was first to respond, and Dallon closed his eyes again. “But we’re here for you, if you need us. We might be able to help or understand or— or whatever. We’re here. I’m here.” His hand was heavy on Dallon’s shoulder, and Dallon’s heart was pounding.

With a shaky sigh, the boy looked up to meet Ryan’s eyes, flickering between them like he needed to look for something. Anything. Ryan stared back at him, his breathing still, and there was something like hope gleaming in Dallon’s eye when he said, “You’re not...”

Gently, Ryan shook his head, and Dallon exhaled like it was too good to be true and he knew it. “I’m not. I’m sorry.” And the apology was right there in the eyes, a brutally sincere thanks, but no thanks. And he nodded, turned away, because he didn't think so. Things didn’t ever really work out like that.

“No, it’s fine.” He shook his head, masking the weight on his shoulders as anything but hurt. “I, um. I didn’t expect you to be. I just... I...”

“Hey,” Ryan reached up to brush his thumb against Dallon’s jawline, shaking his head gently to tell Dallon that it wasn’t important, anyway, they could leave it in the desert. “I know. It’s okay.”

Dallon winced. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It doesn’t change anything. Hey.” He got Dallon’s attention, urging another tremulous sigh when their eyes met, both filled with tears for different reasons, though Dallon was already shivering and tears were already gracing his fragile features, illuminated by the full moon hanging above them like a warning sign. “It doesn’t change anything.”

Dallon shook his head like it did change everything, because it did. Everything he swore he’d keep safe, thrown to the wind. “I don’t wanna fuck things up. And I don’t wanna hurt myself.” He looked down, and tonight was a mistake. It was the biggest goddamn mistake and he wouldn’t dare meet their eyes. “Just seems like the easiest way to have control sometimes.”

Ryan shook his head insistently, and Dallon sniffled. “Hey, you’re not fucking anything up, Dal. We’re okay. You’re okay. You’re still our Dallon.”

“And we still love you,” Josh added quietly.

He nodded, because if he said he believed it then maybe he could convince himself. Nothing was fine, and nothing would ever be fine. But he could try. “Thank you.” He wrapped either arm around them, leaning his head on Josh’s shoulder as Ryan ducked his head against Dallon’s chest. Huddling together for warmth because the world was so cold.

Dallon’s heart was beating fast, trying to escape out in the desert where it would never be found, because he had no secrets anymore. He’d torn open his chest and let them have a look at his soul, but to their dismay it wasn’t as lovely as they thought. It was ugly and brutal and cruel. Quietly, Ryan whispered, “Please don’t hurt yourself anymore.”

And Dallon just squeezed them both tighter, because that was another promise he didn’t know how to keep.

* * *

What they didn't tell you about taking antidepressants was that they fucking sucked. They really fucking sucked. Because Dallon had sat for an hour and stared at his sketchbook before he threw it at the wall in a fit of rage, but even then he could barely find his emotions. Maybe it was the dosage or the sudden decision to put him on them, maybe he hadn’t been eased into it that first summer. Maybe it was just his body. But all creativity had leaked out of his bones and spilled out onto the asphalt in the midst of one of his excursions out in the streets of Vegas. And now he was just numb.

“How are you doing today, Dallon?” His therapist Dr. Lazlo asked as he took a seat in the uncomfortable red chair by her desk. He shrugged, same old same old, and she reached out to grab her notepad while he settled down and watched her uncap her pen. He wished she would use a different color pen. He hated blue ink.

“Same as usual.” He answered dully. So not great.

“Well, what’s new?” She tried, just like she did each time. And just like each time, he shrugged, didn’t seem to take it seriously. Because it wasn’t anything to take seriously. This wasn’t going to fix him. He wasn’t going to get better. He was just lingering until he disappeared. Wouldn’t that just be a shame?

“Um. My school just had its homecoming. The game and stuff. Our, um. Our football team won.” He picked at his nail beds and didn’t bother telling her that she probably cared as much as he did. Just something to say, he guessed. To keep the topic off of himself. He’d been getting so damn good at that.

She nodded, seemingly intrigued but just because it was her job. “Congrats. Did you go to the game?” Bored, he shook his head. “Why not?”

“I think sports are stupid.” He shrugged, and she scribbled something down. It probably wasn’t that sports were stupid; it was probably the latent content of what he’d said. Antisocial, inactive, not friendly enough. Hell, he picked up on that after the few sessions they’d had, but it was confidential, he couldn’t know, blah blah blah. They were his thoughts, weren’t they?

“What about the homecoming dance? Does your school have one of those?” Tired and a little annoyed, Dallon nodded. “Did you go? Dance with anyone? Brendon?”

He shook his head again, and she tilted hers in curiosity. “No. I hate that kind of stuff. So does he, I guess. He’s like me. You know, antisocial. I refuse to have crushes on popular, preppy guys.”

“Asocial.” She corrected, and he shrugged. Made no difference to him. “And would you like to expand on that? The boy you like?”

“No, not really.” That made no difference either. Brendon never even looked at him and besides, Dallon would be a terrible boyfriend. No one should trust him to take care of another human being. He was better off sneaking glances at him behind his sketchbook in the cafeteria until graduation, where he could respectfully part ways with him. No use in making anything harder than it had to be. “Just wanted to mention homecoming. You asked what was new, so. I told you what’s new.”

She sighed, and didn’t bother writing any of it down. And quite frankly, he was insulted. “Dallon, I don’t wanna know how your school is doing. I wanna know how you’re doing.”

“Well, I’m just peachy.” He sat up and put a fake smile on his face, just so fucking peachy. “Except, you know, I lost my father and I couldn’t do anything about it, and every day since has sucked, and I’m sixteen and gay and people around me always have something to say about that, and I’m in love with my best friend who led me on for months only to say surprise, I’ll never like you, and my friends treat me like I’m made of glass, and I really just want some goddamn fucking waffles right now.” He folded his arms across his chest and stared her down like he dared her to make a comment. But she just watched him for a second, watched him huff out angrily because sometimes he just snapped. She’d told him once that this was a safe space. Well, he hadn’t felt safe in years, but it was nice of her to try.

“You’re really angry, Dallon.” She pointed out. Angry? He could have told her that. “Is there a reason for that?”

“Maybe it’s because my father died.”

“Or maybe it’s because you have no control over that situation. You want control. That’s why you acted out last summer, taking risks and putting yourself in danger. You want to take control of a major situation so you can feel like the world is at your feet again.” She said, and Dallon would have rolled his eyes if he had any energy left. Of course she would say that. That was such a therapist thing to say.

“Shouldn’t that be normal? I was just coping. No one taught me how to cope.” He shrugged like it were so damn obvious. “And besides, everyone has their own mechanisms. I tried to pray and that didn’t work. I won’t drink too much or do drugs, but so what if I go out and do a couple of dumb things? I’m not hurting anybody but myself. If I wanna fuck around then that’s on me.”

“It’s good that you can admit when you’re in the wrong.” She commended, and Dallon shrugged. Sure, he was in the wrong. Was it right to leave a dramatic path that led right up to a suicide attempt? “Do you have anything else to say on the matter?”

“About me being wrong? No.” He was pretty damn adamant about that.

She sighed, but jotted something down quickly anyway. Dallon watched her hand move fast, so fast that he bet she thought he wouldn’t care, but he knew she was writing about him. About how he was irreparable, a lost cause, just a naive little boy. Because maybe he was. And maybe he was starting to become painfully aware of it. “Okay. So, is there anything else you wanna discuss today?”

Dallon nodded promptly, and she looked pleased for a moment. He couldn’t say he was sorry to disappoint. “I hate my antidepressants.”

"Why's that?" She inquired.

"Because they make me feel gross. I don't feel creative and I'm always tired and angry and they make me feel slow and I hate them. I've been on them for a long time and I should be used to them by now. But I'm not. And I wanna get off them."

She shook her head sympathetically. "You can't, Dallon. Maybe you can try a different dosage but I'm not authorized to request a retraction of your meds unless you show great progress."

He knew what that meant. He wasn't showing progress. So what? He didn't need to. This was useless, anyway. All she did was sit there and judge him, write down his every movement and every word in her condescending little notebook. Who was that supposed to help? It just made him feel even more like a freak. Hardly prosperous, if you asked him.

He locked his jaw indignantly and stared at her, unwavering. She stared back, waiting for a response, but he wouldn't give her the satisfaction. “You know what your name reminds me of?” He asked instead, and she quirked an eyebrow to tell him to continue, please. “Camp Lazlo. It was this show about this monkey and his other animal friends at this camp. Self-explanatory. That was a fucking great show.”

“And do you think this nostalgic thought makes you feel better?”

“Oh my god.” He laughed; he couldn’t help it. She looked at him like she dared him to judge her work ethic, and he covered his hand with his mouth. “I’m sorry. It’s just. Everything I say you try to analyze when I— I didn’t even mean anything by it! Sure, I’m depressed. Sure, I want things back the way they were before. And sure, I just happen to mention a children’s show that I watched with my dad when I was younger because he used to love it as much as I did. Does that bring back memories? Yeah! But I’m not, like, living in the past. I’m not fucking pathetic!”

She stared at him in shock for a minute before her gaze settled into something harder. “I know you don’t like the antidepressants, Dallon, but here’s the truth, since you want to hear it.” She leaned forward in her seat like she was about to berate a puppy for tearing up the couch. “You need them. You need them, because without them, you’ll be unstable, you’ll be the boy you think disappointed your mother. You’re scared of who you are but the problem is that you’re not making any attempt to change. If you want help, Dallon, if you really want help, then you’ll accept it. You’ll make a change. And you’ll try harder.”

He sat back in his chair, stunned, as he stared back at the doctor. He didn’t think she had it in her. And as soon as his session ended, Dallon walked straight out of the office, didn’t bother making another appointment with Dr. Lazlo two weeks from now.

Without them, he’d be unstable? He’d show her.

* * *

So maybe Dallon had made some mistakes. Maybe he had made a lot of mistakes, like hiding his antidepressants when his mom told him to take one each morning, or sneaking out late at night to leave everyone to worry, or finding himself through self-mutilation as if it would really help anything. In reality it just made him lose himself even more, and now he was missing pieces of him he swore were swept into the ocean or tucked up in the trees, impossible places he’d never find them. So much for searching.

Here’s to losing.

The words rang heavy in his ear as he stared down into the rippling grid underneath him unseeingly. You can never do this again. Well, he wasn't doing it again. He was trying something different.

Everything flashed for a second, like a mirage in a movie. Just like that. Memories that he had tried so badly not to forget, ones that were fading and leaking out through new wounds. Unbandaged wounds. But bandaids were worthless when he knew he'd bleed through them, anyway.

Maybe it was all useless, anyway. Who needed him? He was just a goddamn disappointment, he wasn’t who he wanted to be, wasn’t who his father would want him to be. When had he become such a machiavellian? He’d been treating the world so nefariously but it was easier when there were so many vices. It was easier when the world wanted to hurt him right back. And now... well. He didn’t have to deal with it so much anymore.

As he felt a surge of water engulf his body, he could feel everything, like it was all clear. Like he was transcending into a different universe and he was finally leaving this place and all its bad memories behind. He let his eyes fall shut and his mouth fall open, and as he sucked in a breath and got a mouthful of water instead he could hear a cacophony of words clawing at him desperately. You’re scared of who you are. Please don’t hurt yourself anymore. Being dead won’t bring him back.

Being dead won’t bring him back.

He found himself sitting on solid ground, tears sliding down his cheeks with the drops of water as his clothes hung heavy and clung to his body. Coughing up the water in his lungs, he doubled over and clutched his stomach, trying to catch his breath.

Maybe everyone was right: maybe he wasn’t getting anything done by trying to hurt himself. Maybe he was just looking for more places to hide because he couldn’t handle the truth. Maybe the truth scared him as much as he scared himself.

But he rolled onto his back in a puddle of water that he had left and breathed in and out shudderingly, his throat burning and his eyes stinging. The light pollution of the city almost ate up all the stars but he could still see some faintly, speckled above him like they were waiting to take him home. Being dead wouldn’t bring him back. He knew that, and he had to come to terms with it.

He really just wanted to go home.

* * *

“Are you excited for the new year?” Dallon’s mother asked somewhere in between twisting the air conditioning up and the music down, trying to stay busy while Dallon sat quietly in the passenger seat, staring ahead like he was willing the road to break open and swallow him whole. No, he wasn’t excited for the new year. He hadn’t been excited in years.

“Sure,” Dallon said.

“Yeah? You gonna join clubs? Make some friends?” She suggested, like she did every year. She just... didn’t get it sometimes. No one ever really got it.

“Maybe.” He humored her, but she could hear the satire in his voice and she just... sighed. She sighed, and Dallon squeezed his eyes shut. He swore to his father’s grave one night that he’d try to do better, take care of her like he should, but hell, Dallon could hardly take care of himself.

Another fucking year. Another failed attempt, another morning that Dallon had to wake up wondering where he had gone so wrong. Another fucking year, and he was still regretting everything he’d ever done, everything he’d ever said, because it just didn’t seem like enough. His mother pulled up in front of his school, where he’d begin his third year. His third year without his father, his third year alone. Another fucking year.

"We haven't gotten along these past couple of years, huh?" She asked quietly, and if Dallon wasn’t so enervated then maybe he would be surprised at her effrontery. He shook his head, and his eyes fixated on the flood of teenagers making their way up the front steps. It was a hive, and everyone was buzzing. His mother sighed. No, they hadn’t. "I know— Dallon, look at me." Too tired to fight, he did as he was told. "I know that things have been different since your father died. And I know that you and I have been estranged. These past two years..." She paused, and her eyes flickered downward.

He nodded. She didn't have to say it. "I know."

She nodded back, and it felt like she were trying to find some common ground. "I know you do. And I know that things are wrong. And I've tried to help, I've really tried, but I don't know how to, Dallon. You've been unreachable for so long, and I—" She stopped, and Dallon worried his bottom lip in his teeth. Months and months of trying, and they’d only gotten so far.

"I stopped taking my antidepressants, mom." He said quietly. She looked up, and he added, "A year ago. And that's... that's probably why last year was so shitty. Because I stopped taking my antidepressants because I hate the way they make me feel. I don't want..." He shook his head and looked away, because the look in her eye was unbearable. Like she felt betrayed. Sad, almost. Upset that her son didn’t trust her. "I don't wanna be drugged up anymore."

She watched his eyes for a second, like she didn’t know quite what to say. This all felt so uncompromisable. "They're supposed to help you, baby.”

"I know, but they made me feel worse. They made me feel like I was trapped in somebody that wasn't me. I felt so gross and controlled and I didn't want to be that version of me anymore." There were too many versions of him to begin with. "I should have told you, but..."

"We haven't been talking. I know." Carefully, she placed a hand on his thigh. He tried not to flinch, tried not to recoil away from the touch. He wasn't used to this. What once had been a familial bond had become so atrophied, and when had it all deteriorated? "Okay. We'll make a compromise." She turned to look at him, and he peeked up at her, a little shocked. "I'll make an appointment for one day after school. We'll talk to your doctor to change your dosage, try out a few other options. But you need to get back on it, Dal. We can't have a repeat of what happened two summers ago."

He looked down at his lap, and the regret cut him to the bone. He was such a perfect liar. "I know."

"Okay. Listen." She reached up to touch his cheek, and he backed away before he could register it as motherly affection. He leaned in again, only for her to retract her hand completely, scared that she’d pushed him away. She hadn’t. "I don't want this, Dals, okay? I've made peace with the fact that the day your father left, so did a piece of our lives that we won’t ever get back. I need you to make peace with it too. I need you to try."

He knew that it meant something. That she was telling him from deep down what she needed. A reparation. And Dallon swore that he'd never be the same, and he hadn't been. He wasn't strong or safe or unbroken. He was just wearing a mask, but it hadn't been superglued yet. There was still room for remedy.

"And I... I want to. I want to try. I wanna be okay again." He just didn't know how.

"And I want you to be okay again, too. Come here." She reached out an arm, and Dallon leaned in to wrap his own around her. She was completely right.

The timeline went like this: May nineteenth, Mark Weekes was pronounced dead in the Boulder City Hospital, where a boy sat apathetically, searching for what he should feel. And a woman cried for her loss, but what she didn't know was that for two long years after that, she would be losing a son too. A son who had tried so hard, but didn't succeed. He didn't know it then, but it was a good thing.

In June, that boy found comfort in cheating death the way it cheated him. He found himself trying to stay lost, because really, what was the use in being found? The world was just creeping up on him. He had no business letting it get its way. Not after what it did to him, anyway. He was defiant. He learned that from his father.

In July, the cruel words "it will get better" rang in his ears as a little bottle of pills shone bright in the artificial lighting. And they seemed so comforting cupped in his hand, so pleasing going down his throat. So lovely when they made a home in his stomach. So heartbreaking when his mother was sticking her fingers down his throat and crying loud enough that even in his state of unconsciousness, he could hear it.

He promised to get better. But promises were better broken, anyway, and instead he tried to challenge a God he wasn't sure he believed in anymore to a battle. A battle he never ended up losing. But in the long run, maybe he did lose. Maybe all of it was for nothing. Because after two years of sleepless nights and worthless fights with the person who loved him most, he decided that he wasn't lying. No, he wanted to be okay. And maybe it took two years and three summers to realize it, but... change wasn't always bad. Maybe it was necessary, even.

"I want us back, Dallon."

"I want us back too." And he did.

She pulled away and placed a hand on his cheek with an indistinguishable look in her eye. "Then I'm gonna try harder. I promise. I love you." She thumbed his cheek just as a bell rang somewhere in the distance, the first bell of his junior year. He tightened his grip on his backpack strap, and she smiled warmly. "Now you should go. Class starts in fifteen minutes, yeah?" Wordlessly, he nodded. "Okay. Have a good year, babe."

Dallon nodded solemnly before he turned to catch the door handle in his grip. A promise he intended to keep for once. A promise that, if broken, would only cut him deeper. He didn't want that anymore. He wanted to lick his wounds and move on, make amends and go. So he climbed out of the car and glanced back up at the building that he found himself losing his mind in day after day, and he would go find it. He had to.

He glanced back at his mother, blue eyes shining with hope as her son held on tight to his own aspirations. "I will." He promised.

A promise he meant to keep, indeed.

* * *

His heart beat steadily as the sound of a phone ringing somewhere in the room reached him, wherever he was in space. For a fleeting moment it sounded warped, like he had been engulfed in waves and so deep down underneath the water that he couldn’t come up, but when his body awoke and his eyes flickered open, all he saw were stars. He knew from experience that you couldn’t see the stars underwater.

He shifted, still milky tired and warm, searching for the phone where it had been lost among his sheets. The ringtone persisted, and once he’d found it lodged between his side and the mattress, he pulled it out. A name flashed on his screen, a smile did too, and he couldn’t help but smile back. A soft one, barely there but more for the novelty. Just a reminder, was all. A perfect reminder of what had been remedied all along. He slid his finger across the screen, sighing in content and warm effervescence in the pit of his stomach.

“Hi, Brendon.”


	56. Chapter 55: Another Unbandaged Wound

Dallon slammed his car door behind him and looked around for a minute, trying to gauge if he had a minute to get coffee before he decided that him being wired probably wasn’t a good idea right now. Therapy always made him anxious, anyway, and he didn’t even really want to go but everyone else wanted him to. Ryan wanted him to, and his mother wanted him to, and Brendon never said it but this was supposed to fix things. Dallon was trying.

He pushed through the door and forced a polite smile at the secretary. “Can I have your name?” She asked as he went to sit down across the room, trying to avoid the only other person in the waiting room.

“Weekes. Dallon.” He told her, and started to scroll aimlessly through his social media until they called his name. Called his name, where anybody could hear it, where anybody could assume, and he’d always hated therapy. It made him feel crazy. A stereotype, maybe, but it wasn’t exactly unorthodox.

He headed down the hallway and into the small room with burgundy curtains, watching his sneakers and wondering if maybe he was just driving himself crazy.

That big brown chair was waiting for him and he nodded a head at his therapist as he took a seat, tying to make himself comfortable as she had told him to do the first time he’d come. It was just that he was always uncomfortable. That wasn’t her fault.

"Hi, Dallon, welcome back." She greeted, and he tried to smile as he unzipped his hoodie. She grabbed his assigned notebook from her drawer and he watched until she took a seat, flipping it open a few pages in. He hadn’t realized how many notes she had taken on his life. Was he really that fucked up? "So what's new?"

"Um, a lot, kind of.” He ran his hands over his jeans, and even that was an understatement. “I've been working with the college that I'm gonna go to, so I’ve been trying to figure out how to save up until June. I've been thinking about moving in with my boyfriend, if we're both stable enough when the time comes. I mentioned it to you last month, that I wanted to live with him, but I brought it up to him the other day. With no details, really, just that after graduation we could get a place of our own. I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to do in the future, regarding him. And his sister just had a baby, so he's been talking a lot about life. And I've been thinking a lot about life. And death, too, I guess. And creation."

She wrote something down, about his milestones, maybe, or how hopelessly hopeful he was, how naive to believe a relationship begun on a whim could last so long or last at all. "Yeah? How so?"

"I don't know, just... whenever bad things happen, I try to find outlets. And now I'm trying to show that to him because I wanna help." He paused, watching her write something down and frowning to himself pensively. "When my dad died I started a garden because I wanted to grow new life. And when I stopped talking to my friends for a while I started writing a lot to get my feelings out. Like, poetry and stuff. Except not really. More like... like angry rants. And I try to turn toward things that will be positive outlets for me when I feel like I have nothing else to do. When I don't have control. So I started making a graphic novel.” He played with his hands like they were more interesting than anything he had to say.

She wrote something else down and he watched her, trying to read by her pen movements just what she was writing. Wondering if she was writing what he said or what he meant. “That’s interesting. Why choose that?

“I just feel like for months I’ve been doing all this stuff that other people want me to do. And I don’t mind that so much, and I don’t feel like anything’s an obligation, but I wanted to do something that’s just mine. Not for school, not for anyone, just me, telling a story. I have a lot of things to say and I feel like I can't say them.”

“I want you to expand on that. Doing things for other people. Not saying what you want to say. What do you mean?”

“I just...” He played with his ring, awkwardly avoiding her eyes and trying to find the words. What did he mean? He was just rambling. Not assigning meaning to any of this. He was here because Ryan told him to be. He was here because he needed help. He just wished he didn’t have to get it by telling a stranger everything about him. “I try to bottle up my feelings because I don’t want my mom to worry about me. And same with my friends. Because they know how I get so when I’m really bad they worry and then it’s like, I constantly have people looking over my shoulder. Making sure I’m not doing any of my impulse behaviors or getting mad or hurting myself. I know they care but it’s exhausting.”

“What about your boyfriend?”

He looked down at his hands, feeling guilty all of a sudden like he was talking about him behind his back. He was here for he and Brendon. He was here to do better, like he’d said he would. Like he promised. “I love Brendon but sometimes I’m just... scared. About him. For him. It's hard, because we're both sick. We're both mentally ill. And so sometimes that doesn't exactly work in our favor, y'know? And sometimes it does."

She nodded like she understood, but still said, "Elaborate."

He sighed, squirming around in his seat, he hated when she asked him to elaborate. He kept these things internal for a reason. "Sometimes it's good because we get each other in a way that not a lot of people can. That’s how we became friends, at first. Understanding each other differently. I understand this part of him because— not saying that we're the same, because our experiences and our illnesses are so different, but I understand what it's like to have depression. So I know how to help him sometimes. How to be patient with him. And he's learning how to be patient with me too. But sometimes it's not a good thing because we clash. Because when I'm bad, then I influence him. And when he's bad, it— I don't know. I don't wanna say it triggers me, that's not the right word, but it doesn't help, you know? So I feel like a lot of the time we end up tiptoeing around each other, or trying to censor ourselves, or whatever. Because we don't wanna hurt each other."

"And that ends up making you feel as though your relationship is fragile."

He nodded. "Exactly."

She wrote that down. "You said that you worry about him, Dallon. Why do you worry about him?" She asked then, and he knew what she was trying to do. Feel him out. Judge his relationship and tell him to reevaluate because if he had to talk about it in therapy then it probably wasn’t good for him. He knew. He knew. But perfect things weren’t unmessy. That was what was so perfect about them.

He let out a quiet breath and shrugged, tucking his hands in between his thighs because the office was cold today. "Sometimes he says these... these things. About life being better before, and wanting to disappear, and I understand why he says these things and I can’t blame him but I don’t know how what it means. I don’t know how to tell if it’s just him overdramatizing something and I don’t know how to ask straight up if he’s gonna kill himself. Because every day I’m terrified about what’s gonna happen to him. Because I see myself in him sometimes, the way he acts, and the things he says. How he doesn't want us all to know what he's thinking because he thinks he's better off if no one knows. I see myself a few years ago in him and that's terrifying. Because I know how scary it is to feel that way. So when he says things I remember saying, or pushes people away in the same way that I did, I can't help but feel like this is gonna end up the same way it did for me."

"By him hurting himself."

"Yeah." He agreed, exhaling unsteadily. Yeah. By him hurting himself. He didn’t want Brendon to get hurt. Not by anyone, but especially not by himself. "Yeah. And I've been there, and I know what it's like to be the one in that position but I don't know what it's like to be the one trying to talk someone off a ledge. So what if something happens to him, and I can't do anything about it? What if I'm just... failing him?"

"I'm sure you know that it's not your obligation to save his life, Dallon." She told him, and he lifted a shoulder, looking away. She took the hint. "The last time we talked you told me about your friend Ryan. And how you had very strong feelings for him for a few years after your father died."

He didn’t look back at her, wondering if that was really the thing to bring up right now. "Yeah, I did."

"And you were never in a relationship, right? You were just friends?" She clarified.

He squirmed uncomfortably, wondering if it would ever sit right. "We were never in a labeled relationship, no." He confirmed.

"So these are the only two people you've ever really had strong feelings for, yes? Ryan and Brendon?" He nodded, skeptical as he didn’t see what Ryan had to do with any of this. Ryan Ross wasn’t the boy he needed to talk about today. Ryan Ross wasn’t who he was bottling up his feelings from. He didn’t like that she was steering things away from Brendon. He wasn’t like that. "So, within these two boys I see one major similarity. Do you know what that is, Dallon?" After thinking for a second he shook his head, though he wasn’t really sure he wanted to know. "They both have difficult pasts and feel comfortable opening up to you about them."

He swallowed thickly as it hit him, staring after her as her eyes dared him to challenge it. "Oh."

"I found it interesting that when you told me about Ryan, you mentioned a lot of the difficulties he's endured. About his abuse and his being raped. And you told me that at the time, when these things were happening to him, you were the one he confided in." She continued, and he was uncomfortable, so uncomfortable, and he wanted her to stop talking. To stop talking about his life like it wasn’t his own.

"Yeah, I was." He told her, hesitance clear in his eyes. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. Didn’t want to talk about Ryan. The ties between his past and his present. Didn’t want to know.

"You like helping people, Dallon, is that right?" He was quiet for a minute before he nodded, furrowing his eyebrows in something that resembled fear. "Do you think this has anything to do with guilt?"

He looked her up and down as she tapped her pen against her notebook filled with his words and what she thought about them. The analyzations of his own thoughts. How cruel it was for somebody to take that from him. "What do you mean?" He asked slowly, not quite understanding but nervous, anyway.

"You told me that you feel guilty about your father. That you feel as though your actions affected his death?"

He shrugged one shoulder again, and it sounded so stupid out loud. So idiotic. Did he really think that? He said that? "I mean, maybe." He trailed off, uncomfortable with his own words when he’d heard them reflected back to him.

"Sometimes when people feel guilty they try to mend that feeling by helping other people. This may influence you through the men you're attracted to. In other words, you may be attracted to people that you feel as though you can save." Dallon stared back at her wordlessly, suddenly cold. "Does Brendon know about your past?"

“Uh.” He shook his head, put off. “Some. Not all of it. I don’t tell him a lot about myself. Or a lot of the hard parts, anyway."

She positioned her pen against the paper, anticipating. "Why is that?"

"I’m worried about sharing these things with him because I don’t want him to worry in the way that Ryan and Josh and my mom do. And if he knows all of me... I’m scared he’s gonna regret it.”

“Regret asking you questions?” She clarified.

“Regret getting involved with someone like me.” Dallon corrected, looking back up at her sullenly. “I’m damaged. And I thought at first that someone like Brendon could fix me, you know? Like when you had a terrible day and then you see this really pretty sunset and it puts everything in perspective. But in the end you're still sad because of everything else that happened that day. It's like life. One good thing doesn't make up for all the bad things, right?"

She wrote down the simile, nodding slowly to say that she understood. He liked that she did that. Made sure he knew when she got him. "In this sense, Dallon, it seems like you see him as a bandaid."

He bristled, receiving it as an accusation and less of an observation. "Not entirely."

"But to some extent." She offered.

He shrugged, feeling guilty again because that was never his intention. He didn’t seek Brendon out to try and fix each other. People just did that sometimes. Helped each other get better. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, he didn’t think. "I guess so. I mean, he's— he's the best thing to have ever happened to me. I don't know where I would be if it wasn't for him. Even years ago when my friends weren't there for me, he was this stranger I ran into at school but he was there, like, every time I needed him. It was like... fate. I don't even know how much I believe in fate. I used to believe that everything happens for a reason and that God has our lives in His hands but it's getting harder and harder to believe that."

"Why is that?"

"Because I can't see why all of this has any purpose." He said desperately, blinking back tears as it hit him. He didn’t want to question God. He just did. He rubbed at his eyes, feeling pathetic, before tears could escape. He told himself he wasn’t going to cry today. He promised himself he’d be smarter about who he let see him cry. "Because I get that we have to go through hard things to prove our strength. I get that. But nothing about this makes any sense. Why it's one thing after another. Why he keeps getting hurt over and over again, and why I do, and why this is starting to feel like some fucking tragedy. I just... I feel like nothing in my life has ever been normal. Like the whole world is conspiring against me. And then this— this one thing, this perfect person, he comes and makes me think that not everything has to be the worst case scenario."

"And it doesn't." She reasoned.

"But it is." He argued, and she sat back in her seat, raising an eyebrow to tell him to continue. "Because this ended up badly too. And now it just— for months we've felt like we were hanging on by a thread. Like we're one bad thing away from breaking up and I never wanted to be that boy that depends on a relationship and I'm not, I don't think, but Brendon isn't just my boyfriend. He's my best friend. He's my family. We've been through a lot together. I feel like we’re connected in this otherworldly way. Like our spirits are connected. Our souls. And I don't want to keep feeling like all of this is just leading up to the end. Like all of it is for nothing."

"I don't think that anything is for nothing, Dallon. I think that everything that happens to us is a lesson."

"Maybe so. But I just know that I'm capable of learning without losing everything and everyone I love. So far that hasn't worked out for me." He looked away indignantly, like a child not getting his way. "It just feels like every single time that I think about it it hurts all over again. Like a wound that keeps opening up because no one knows how to cover it. It’s just... it's just an unbandaged wound. It's another unbandaged wound. And I don't know why these things happen, or why they keep coming up, but I try to forget it and I try to go a single day, every day, without thinking about every bad thing that's ever happened to me but I can't. I thought I could get rid of all of the parts of me that haunt me. I thought that I could eventually move past it. And I know that what happened to Brendon isn't about me but he's... he's my whole heart. He is so fucking important to me. And if he hurts himself then... I don't know what I'm gonna do. I don't even wanna think about what I'm gonna do. But I'm scared for him every day."

“It seems to me that you very well may be projecting, Dallon.” She told him, writing something down with her words in the notebook with his name at the top. “Do you think that’s possible?”

He felt uneasy as he watched the movement of her pen. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it may be that you’re scared of yourself relapsing. You’re scared that you’re going to continue hurting yourself, or that you’re going to try and commit suicide again." She explained. He studied her doubtfully, not quite seeing how she got that from Brendon’s issues. "You see your past self in the way that Brendon is now. You want to help him get through something you barely got through yourself. Yes?" Reluctantly, he nodded. "In this sense, it seems that you're trying to save yourself. Or rather, that old version of yourself that still exists in you, because you still have those feelings. Right? You still self-harm and think about suicide?"

He played with his hands, trying to choose his words carefully. Knowing what would happen if he didn’t. "Not... not seriously, like, I'm not planning it or anything, but yeah."

She nodded as if to say that was what she expected; he hated to see himself as someone predictable. "We don't completely just... get rid of versions of ourselves, Dallon. All of your bad thoughts and all of your fears still exist inside of you. And I think on some level, you think that you're a brand new you. Like you shed the past and now you're someone different completely. But that's not the case. We can't forget about who we were once because it's still a part of us. Your mental illness is a part of you. We're just evolved versions of our past selves. We learn and we change."

"I... yeah. I get that." He admitted, but it left a bad taste on his tongue.

"So perhaps you're so careful of Brendon and how he treats his mental illness, which is a very new part of him, because you see it as a way to redeem yourself for when you didn't know how to handle your own situation. In other words, you want to fix others because you think it fixes yourself. Do you think that may be true?"

He hesitated for a long second, looking down at the hole in the knee of his jeans before he nodded. "Yeah." He agreed, and tried not to hate himself for it.

"Okay." She wrote something down, and he didn't know what else to say. “You told me that you and Brendon have a lot of secrets, yes? That you don’t tell him a lot about yourself.” He nodded again as she looked through her notes. "I think that one major reason as to why you feel as though your relationship is fragile is because you two have a lot of issues that you haven't worked out. Maybe some things that you've left unsaid from when you two were fighting. And I think that one of those issues is that he opens up to you when talking about his past and you don't open up to him. This may be why he doesn't open up when talking about his present. He may be worried that he's going to step on a landmine when he doesn't know what and what does not trigger you."

He wasn’t sure whether to feel insulted or not, as he folded his arms with conviction and tried not to hate her for picking his brain apart. "So what is that supposed to mean?" He asked, unsure of whether it was accusatory or just curious.

"I think that you and Brendon need to have a conversation that you don't wanna have, Dallon." She told him honestly, and could tell by his frown that that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. "I think that you need to tell him some of the things that you're reluctant to because you need to be able to trust him in order for him to trust you. Trust issues will hurt your relationship more in the long run. If you two are honest with each other you may feel safer expressing your fears to him and he may feel as if he can take these fears more seriously."

He squirmed uncomfortably. "But what if... what if I tell him everything and he doesn't take it well? What if he sees me differently?"

"Sometimes..." She sighed, laying the pen down on her notebook. "Sometimes, Dallon, you have to weigh what matters more in a relationship. Whether you're honest with each other completely or whether he puts you on a pedestal."

He stared at her, and when she picked her pen back up and flipped the page his mouth felt dry. He felt torn apart. He didn’t know what to do with any of this.

“Alright, Dallon.” She added, writing something at the top. “I want to switch gears here. That okay?”

He leaned back into his chair, trying not to fear her or hate her or want to run. “Yeah. Sure. That’s okay.” He agreed, but couldn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong.

* * *

Dallon stared ahead of him aimlessly, at a polaroid photo stuck on the magnetic board above his desk. Brendon was smiling that perfect smile, his right eye squinted more than the left, black rimmed glasses and hair falling in his face. Dallon had both arms around him, his head tilted, and a real smile because Brendon was good at getting smiles out of him.

He remembered that day. It was sometime over the summer, spending mindless time together and talking about nothing important before he decided that he wanted to take a picture, because Brendon was looking particularly happy and Dallon liked to capture that. It was out of nowhere, made Brendon laugh, but Dallon was someone who valued the few days he felt true joy.

It was a good day. He wanted to document it.

Brendon knocked gently on the front door and Dallon went to let him in, expecting him as he’d invited him to see the finished product. He knew Brendon was antsy and didn’t want to wait. So he stopped by on his way to Kara’s, smiling excitedly when he greeted Dallon with a kiss on the cheek, and Dallon’s stomach felt uneasy as he led him to his room.

“Here we go.” He grabbed the canvas from its resting spot and Brendon’s eyes softened when Dallon handed it to him gently, self-conscious about the work because he was a perfectionist, after all. Brendon just thought everything he made was beautiful.

“Oh my god, Dallon. This is so good.” Brendon laughed, touching the top of the canvas carefully and retracting his fingers in case the paint was still wet. It wasn’t. “Seriously, you’re insane. How did you do this?”

“I have a good muse.” He shrugged, watching his boy admire his art like he so often did. Brendon looked up at him and half smiled, punching his arm because he didn’t know how to take a compliment. Dallon had a beautiful touch. There was really nothing he couldn’t do.

“You’re a dork. And I don’t even know what to say. I’m honored that you would do this.” He looked back down at the painting, the overlay of paint and the colors and the way he captured the light in his eye with just a few marks of brown. He had this effortless style. Brendon loved that about him.

“I’m honored that you’d let me.” Dallon returned, looking over at his piece too and wondering how he could ever do Brendon Urie justice. He was beautiful. Dallon wanted to capture that beauty eternally. Wanted to ensconce himself in that beauty and live in it and sap its energy for his own. He was still trying to figure out how to do that without draining Brendon. Ruining him.

“I like being your muse.” Brendon said thoughtfully, turning to give him an award-winning smile. “My dear. I’d love to stay, but a screaming baby beckons. I should get going. But thank you for showing me this. It’s beautiful. Really.”

The thing about Brendon Urie was that Dallon knew he was genuine. He always tried to be. But Dallon knew pretending when he saw it. He knew when Brendon’s smiles were forced or when he had something in the back of his mind or when he was trying not to cry. Dallon wasn’t stupid. Brendon just thought he had everyone fooled.

“You’re welcome.” Dallon nodded minutely, trying to find the right words to say. He never knew, though, could never find them. He’d been searching for a long time.

Smiling warmly in a goodbye, Brendon went to step toward the door but Dallon stopped him, reaching out to take his face in his hands without warning. His boyfriend startled, he wasn’t expecting it, but Dallon held him close, and curiously Brendon set his hands on Dallon’s hips.

“Hey.” Dallon whispered, stroking pale cheeks with his thumbs ever so gently. “I need you safe, okay?”

“Okay.” Brendon answered dumbly, had no idea what he was talking about. But sometimes ignorance was bliss, and there were days that Dallon wondered if he should ever knock down all his walls, even if that meant defeating the idealized version of himself that Brendon had created. “I’ll see you later, Dal. I love you.”

“I love you.” He kissed him and Brendon looked concerned but tried to mask it. He just nodded a goodbye, gave him this look of hope as if to say whatever’s going on, I hope you feel better. Not wanting to push it because he knew how Dallon got.

Dallon walked him to the door and no words were exchanged as Brendon slipped out, but he waved and Dallon put a hand up and turned back to the empty apartment when he was alone again. Everything was so brief. So fleeting. He wondered if it was always going to feel like that.

* * *

“I think this is stupid,” Dallon said, just for the record, but settled opposite of his best friend at the coffee table anyway.

Ryan grinned, shuffling the deck with nimble fingers. It wasn’t like Ryan even knew what he was doing. He got this deck of tarot cards off Amazon, for Christ’s sake. It wasn’t even from a real magic store. But Dallon watched his fingers move anyway, because he was intrigued. Even if nothing would ever come out of this. "Alright." He announced, holding out the cards and looking between them and a fifteen-year-old Dallon's eyes. "You can do the honors, sir." He announced, but Dallon looked at the cards doubtfully and then back up at his best friend. "No? Okay. I'll do it, then."

"You're the professional." Dallon shrugged, and Ryan smiled up at him before he pulled a card and set it down on the table in front of Dallon.

And at the bottom of the card was a word that plagued Dallon’s memory and still somehow felt so surreal.

DEATH.

Dallon stared it, this had to be a fucking joke, but found his hands shaking as he pushed it back toward Ryan. “I told you this was stupid.”

“Dal, this is a metaphor. It doesn’t even really mean death.” Ryan started, but Dallon was already getting up and grabbing his shoes from the front door. “Dallon!”

He went to get up but Dallon was already slamming the front door shut, making Ryan grimace and stop in his place. He looked between the door and the tarot cards, hoping they really were just something stupid he bought online on a whim.

Ryan had never been good at telling the future but Dallon hadn’t either. Because at the time he thought that maybe there would be some little possibility of him getting better. Back before everything else had happened. Before almost four years had passed, and he was still feeling like he was looking at death in a tarot card.

Dally: come look at the stars with me.

Dally: our lake.

Brendon stared down at the message with nothing but curiosity, anxiety too, as that had carved a home in his bones to nest though he was so used to it he barely realized it now. Their lake. Their honesty. Their secrets.

Bumblebee: omw

He locked his phone and tucked it deep into his pocket as he went to grab his bike.

He didn’t know when Dallon’s parents’ lake had become their lake, but somewhere along the line he found himself trying to breathe again, down at that lake under the stars and off the highway where reality seemed altered in this oil spill iridescent way, shining off the concrete of cracked innocence. Where he admitted to himself that he wasn’t okay. Where he admitted to Dallon... well. There was no use in dwelling.

He stepped down the sand cautiously as a still figure sat there, staring at the water like it was going to swallow him whole though maybe it already had. At the sound of sand crunching familiarly he turned around, and their eyes met as Dallon’s lips turned up into a half smile. Wordlessly Brendon took a seat beside him, and he laid on his back to stare up at the chandelier of sky. He’d found a home in those stars, and a home it was.

“How are you?” Dallon asked quietly, and Brendon could feel him lay beside him without having to look. He knew he was there, anyway.

“I’m... tired. I don’t know. Frustrated. I can’t seem to hold on to one feeling for more than a second. It feels like everything is just this whirlwind and I’m trying to grasp onto something but none of it is catchable. One second I’m happy and I’m okay and then the next I feel like I’m breaking and everything keeps changing so fast. I’m just so sick of feeling like my feelings aren’t my own.”

“I am too, sometimes.” Dallon sighed up at the sky, at God, at nothing.

“And I’m sick of no one getting it. I’m sick of no one being patient. Cause they all say they are, that they’re here for me and they want to give me time and whatever, but no one really gets it. Everyone wants me to fix it but no one knows how to help.” He rambled, thinking he couldn’t find the right words though they spilled out like blood from an open wound.

“That’s the thing, Bren, everybody just goes about their lives.” He’d realized that years ago. “People wake up and put on their nicest tie or dress or whatever, and they go out to their nine to five job and go home at night and then repeat it the next day. They live in routine. The city is a hive.” He dipped his head idly like none of it mattered, anyway. But sometimes he was the only one who would listen. “But on the other side of the world there are people dying and fighting for their lives. People are struggling. All on the same earth.”

Brendon let his eyes fall shut. He felt like he was on the other side of the world sometimes, too. “And then there are people in the same city like us, who tear ourselves apart and feel out of control. We don’t have anything together.”

“We just pretend to.”

“I can’t even do that.” Brendon let out a sigh, long and tremulous and visceral, and tilted his head to look at his boyfriend, eyes shining in the moonlight like he was just another sky. “I get what you meant now. About not wanting to be me.”

Dallon looked back at him, something unreadable in his gaze. “What are you talking about?”

Brendon looked back upwards, watching darkened clouds move slowly because they were just stopping by. Maybe he’d see a shooting star. Maybe he would fix everything. Maybe he should stop being so hopeful. “Over the summer. You told me that part of depression is not wanting to be yourself. You didn’t wanna be you. I don’t wanna be me anymore.”

Dallon was quiet for a second as Brendon’s eyes lingered on one of the tiny pinpoints of stars hanging above them. It was brighter than the others, and he was making wishes on planets again. He was throwing hope into all the wrong atmospheres. Brendon could hear the cool March wind whistling through the trees around them, the sound of Dallon breathing quietly. And just as a tear slid down the side of his face, Dallon whispered, “I still don’t want to be me sometimes, Brendon. That never goes away.”

Maybe the dichotomy between them wasn’t as cutting as Brendon had thought. It was saccharine in a way that black licorice was. Not particularly, though the thought was jarring enough for Brendon to fear it too deep rooted.

“And that’s what scares me. Because sometimes I have this weird second of bliss.” He gestured above himself with his hand in frustration, and he could feel Dallon’s eyes glued to him. “When I first wake up, or when I’m babysitting Luca and I see him do that weird little smile thing he does, or when it’s really quiet and calm and I just feel okay. And just... sometimes I have a minute of peace. And in that minute I always, always think that I’m better. And then I snap back to reality and I realize that I’m still just as bad as I have been for months. And I want this to stop, Dallon. I want it all to stop.”

Dallon let out a breath and sat up slowly so Brendon followed, holding his breath though for months he hadn’t been breathing. Avoiding his gaze, Dallon turned toward the lake, looking pensively out at the ripples of water in the Nevada air. “I tried to drown myself.” He said as if he had as much interest in it as he did the night’s creation story, a faulty tarot card and a rapid heartbeat of pure anxiety: none at all. Brendon tensed up beside him instantly, Dallon could sense it even when he didn’t look, before he turned his head sullenly, cold blue eyes meeting big, scared brown ones. But Dallon didn’t react. Just looked back at the water like he were reminiscing it filling his lungs. “I told you last year that I tried to kill myself but I never told you that it’s happened more than once. Why make a bad situation worse, you know?”

Brendon didn’t know what to say, if honesty was the best policy anymore. “What the fuck, Dallon.” He whispered, and Dallon shook his head like it were just an old memory. A relic of his childhood.

“Yeah. The, um. The summer before we started talking. About two months, actually. I was just in a bad place. Summers are always bad for me. And I was thinking about how there was no use, nothing good was coming of being alive. After the first time, my mom told me that things wouldn’t always be bad. But what I never told you was that my freshman and sophomore years were hell, Brendon. I...” He looked down at his knees and tried not to keep taking everything to heart. “I spent every day wishing I wouldn’t wake up. Going to school made me want to die, and human interaction was worse. I wasn’t good. And I’ve been off and on for a few years, I think. Every once in a while I had a string of a few good weeks, and then it all came back. And the summer was the worst, you know? Too much time to think. Too many memories. I was so sick of the memories.”

He turned his head for a second, two seconds, three seconds, maybe just one. But it was drenched in silence, total silence, and suddenly he couldn’t hear the distant highway or the whistling of wind through tall trees or the water moving quietly against the sand like trying tides. He couldn’t hear Brendon breathing either, and maybe that was because he wasn’t, or maybe that was because all he could hear was the rush of water in his ears. Playing again and again on a loop. And he watched huge brown eyes watch him, the size of the moon, and the sound of the water... Brendon had no idea. He didn’t know how he could.

“It was the end of August. And my summer was so unbelievably hard, and the thought of having to go back to school, Brendon, it was killing me. And I just... I was so, so unhappy. So I walked through town for a while, looking at everything and thinking, this is something I’d miss, and then I went to that public pool that everyone goes to. And I snuck in, y’know, it was past midnight. And I went to the deep end, fully clothed, and just kind of... sat at the bottom.”

Brendon could feel himself beginning to tremble, eyes looking from Dallon to the lake and back to Dallon. Oh, god. Dallon, his Dallon, trying to find comfort at the bottom of a swimming pool. Except he wasn’t just there to see the light distorted, he wasn’t there to feel a second of peace. He was there because he didn’t want it to end. He reached out blindly, desperately, and Dallon took his hand.

“You would think that it would be peaceful. I mean, being underwater is like this second of weird serenity, you know? It’s like you can’t hear or see or feel the rest of the world. It’s just you, completely submerged. And that’s what I liked about it. I liked that I felt like nothing else existed. For once, nothing else existed. And I wanted to feel that forever.”

Brendon’s hands were shaking as he tried to make sense of it all. None of this made any sense. “How are you still...”

“Alive?” He supplied, and Brendon nodded hesitantly like the word was acidic. “Honestly, I don’t know.” He scratched at Brendon’s thumb. “You’d think it was peaceful until you can’t breathe. And then you can feel water in your lungs and the chlorine burns your throat and it feels like you can’t tell which direction is up and which is down. I was underwater for as long as I possibly could be before I was just sitting on the edge, coughing up water.” He shook his head, remembering the taste of bleach on his tongue. “I know I seem like I have it all together, Brendon. I know. But I don’t. And for a long, long time, I’ve been so bad. And I’ve been stupid and selfish and careless, but mostly I’ve learned from all those dumb mistakes. I’ve had a shitty couple of years, that’s true, but despite them I’ve learned. A lot. And I told you that attempting was a one time thing, but it wasn’t. And it never was. From the second I woke up in the hospital bed after having gotten my stomach pumped, Brendon, I thought fuck, they should have let me die. And I’ve been thinking that so much more than you could imagine ever since.”

Brendon shook his head; he didn’t even know what to say. What did you say to your boyfriend when he was telling you about his secret suicide attempt? What did you say to a person who should be dead? “Fuck, Dal.” He breathed, speechless.

“Yeah.” Dallon huffed out, and Brendon guessed it wasn’t news to him. It was just some memory that faded with time, but not for Brendon. It was just another piece of Dallon that he had promised to discover, once upon a time. And now he was wondering if he still wanted that. “I never wanted to lie to you. This is just... personal. It’s brutally personal. And I was never going to tell you.”

Brendon turned to look at him, the slope of his cheek, the cut of his jawline. His face was pale with moonlight and Brendon felt lost, somehow. “So... why tell me now?”

“I wanted to stop hiding who I am from you. Or to prove to you that I don’t have it all together. Or maybe I’m telling you just to tell you. To get it off my chest. I have no idea. And this isn’t supposed to make you feel worse, but this is the reality and I’m going to be as raw and real as I can with you.” He squeezed his hand but Brendon’s felt limp in his own. “You and I, we’ll never truly be okay. We’ll never be cured. And it sucks, and it’s unfair, and it makes me hate the world more than I already do. But you’ll have seconds or minutes or days or weeks or months or years, Brendon, of feeling alright. And then sometimes you’ll think about sitting at the bottom of some shitty public pool in the middle of the night. And I can’t tell you that things are gonna get better, because let’s face it, I’m the poster boy for not being okay and faking it. But what I can tell you is that in time you’ll get used to it. As fucking sad and horrifying as that is, you’ll get used to it. And you’ll be able to control it. You’ll find something that works for you.”

“I can’t tell if that makes me feel better or worse.”

“I didn’t mean for it to make you feel anything, honestly. It’s just a hundred percent the truth.” He laid on his back and Brendon followed, their fingers still intertwined. They were quiet for a second, Brendon was taking steady breaths of clean air, lungs burning as if he were imagining it, his mind racing. And Dallon was silent, staring at the stars and making deflated wishes that would never come true. “I never told anyone that.”

Brendon tightened his grip on Dallon’s hand like it were an instinct. Dallon had always been lonely, anyway, but he and Brendon existed in separate worlds for so long, he hadn’t known. Even now as they existed as one, Brendon felt like Dallon was just one big mystery. A stranger. One whose laugh he knew, whose smile he could pinpoint in a crowd of a million. A stranger, but only under the surface. “Not even your mom?”

“Especially not.” He insisted and Brendon took the hint. “I think all she wants is for me to be okay. She shouldn’t have to worry about losing me too. And she’s not gonna. I know that was only a year and a half ago but I know she’d treat it like it just happened. And right now, I’m fine again. No need to bring up the past.” He tilted his head toward Brendon, staring at him with eyes Brendon had never seen. And then again, maybe he was right. Maybe Dallon was a mystery. Brendon had spent a year and a half trying to solve it before he decided that maybe he should just give up. “This never happened, Brendon.” He said, voice hard, concrete. “My mother can never know, and you should’ve never known. That was a version of me I never wanted to bring to light. I just... need you to know things about me that no one else knows.”

Brendon swallowed, stared at him and tried not to imagine him engulfed in water because it wasn’t him. It wasn’t him, so why couldn’t Brendon stop picturing it? “Why’s that?”

“Because it lets you know that I trust you.” Dallon said like it were obvious, and trust was something Brendon treated so fragile these days. “And that I wouldn’t lie to you. So you gotta listen when I say that you have to stick it out, okay? Even if you feel like life’s not worth it. Even if you wanna hurt yourself or end it all or whatever, Brendon, you have to listen to me. You will be fine. In the end, you will be fine. Because things won’t always be good, but they won’t always be bad either. Because I tried to kill myself and two months later, I got you. The world works in mysterious ways. And sometimes it gives you what you need.”

Maybe that was what Dallon meant when he told Brendon about praying. God would show some sign, give him what he needed when he needed it. He couldn’t be left completely in the dark forever. And he said it like he was sure, like he was a success story, but that was never what he wanted to be. Dallon was just this lost boy trying to pretend he knew where he was but at least he had the strength to pretend. That was more than Brendon could say.

“You scare me, Dallon.” Brendon said suddenly, and Dallon tilted his head to look at him, not surprised like he should have been.

Brendon had been scared of him before, cried out fearful tears and screamed at him from a passenger seat and asked if they should end things. But six months later he was still trying to make things work, and they did, and they didn’t, and at this point he just had no idea what was wrong with either of them. Maybe Brendon was destined for failure. Maybe Dallon had no destiny.

“And I’m scared to tell you that, too.” He continued. “But you just... I’m new to having depression. Or knowing about it, I guess. And I don’t know how it works. But sometimes you’re so happy and you’re smiling and you look perfectly fine and then the next minute you shut down completely, and you’re talking about suicide and acting weird and it scares me.”

Brendon had been scared before. Seeing and hearing were two different things. But he had battled it out with Dallon, accused him and pointed fingers and tried to make sense of the secrets they kept from each other. But this was a different scared. This wasn’t an I’m terrified for my life kind of scared. This was an I know who you are now, but you still manage to turn tables kind of scared.

“We all have different forms of depression, Brendon.” Dallon sighed, but disregarded his confession because it wasn’t worth discussing when nothing would ever change. “Mine is complicated. Sometimes I am really happy. Sometimes I’m perfectly fine. And then something small can set me off, and I’ll shut down because I need to do that to cope in order to keep myself from being destructive. Trust me, my coping mechanisms used to be a lot more atrophied. Now I’m better. I know what to do to keep myself together. And I know what to do to let myself fall apart. In time, you figure that stuff out. I know it’s confusing, but sometimes you have to trust fall. Just... trust me.”

And Brendon did. He had to, because Dallon was the one person in the world that could make him feel okay with this. Like he wasn’t completely and utterly alone. Dallon was alone, too. The only difference was that ability to materialize that loneliness. “I trust you.” He promised, and that meant something.

* * *

Kissing Dallon’s cheek as he went to meet up with Tyler in the morning before class started felt too final, almost. They had done it every day for a year, just about, Dallon would hold his hand from the car until he found his friends and then Brendon would kiss his cheek and promise to see him soon and escape to find his own best friend. They gave each other some space in the mornings, keeping everything ritual.

But he let his lips linger, held a hand to his cheek, stared long and hard at him until he realized that Ryan and Josh were watching, comical looks on their faces, and he excused himself. He was red by the time he made it to Tyler, he and Dallon tried to make a point of not showing so much PDA at school or in front of their friends, but today was different. Today, he felt like something was going away.

“What’s up? How was your weekend?” Tyler asked when he linked his arm with Brendon’s and pulled him up the front steps.

“Nothing. Fine.” He lied, feeling unusually empty, and part of him wished Dallon had said nothing, because Brendon knew this was one of those things he wouldn’t be able to handle. He knew it, because he’d never been strong, how could Dallon even think that this would be fine, but it was him letting Brendon into parts of his life he was completely isolated in. Dallon was lonely. Brendon was that remedy, he guessed. “I just... I’m not in a good mood today.”

“Did something happen?” He asked, though it was more like an interrogation.

Yes. “No.”

Tyler looked at him skeptically, didn’t believe it, but sighed because he knew Brendon wasn’t going to say anything anyway. “If you need to talk, Brenny bear, you know where to find me.”

“I know.” Brendon promised, and he did. He just didn’t want to. “I’m gonna go to the library and do some stats stuff before class. I’m sorry.” He apologized but Tyler shook his head, knew that Brendon was working had to get up his grades. He headed up the steps and Tyler retreated back toward their friends, leaving Brendon alone. Everyone was learning to do that without putting up a fight.

He sped up as he kept his eyes fixated on the library at the end of the hall, crossing his fingers and praying that nobody would follow.

That afternoon he stepped quietly into Ms. Kenny’s office and dropped his slip into the recycling bin as he took a seat, going through the motions of saying hello and picking out a soda. She opened up to the notebook page where she logged his feelings and he pretended not to notice, just as he did every week, not particularly happy about her keeping track of his mood swings though he knew she had to.

“So, Dallon asked me to move into a new apartment with him recently.” Brendon confessed like it were a secret, almost whispering because the words felt so delicate on his tongue. If Dallon knew how he felt sometimes, would he still want to be with him? “Like, after we graduate and stuff.”

She looked up from where she was jotting down the date on the fresh new page. “That’s wonderful, Brendon.” Ms. Kenny smiled like she were proud, and maybe she was, but Dallon asking and it actually happening were two different things. This was just a mask to him having his life together. This wasn’t real. Not yet, anyway. “That’s a really big step.”

“I know.” He played with the chain on his neck carefully, reminiscent of the fingers that had left it there. “And I had this... idea, you know, before he and I got together. I was gonna live at home for college and then when I graduated I’d try and get my own little apartment or something. But then, like, Dallon changed everything. He always changes everything. And I’m terrified to live away from home, because, like, I don’t know how to do anything. I don’t know how to do laundry or cook or clean, and I don’t wanna just leave it all to him but I feel like I’m so stupid sometimes that I don’t know how I’m gonna do it. So him asking me to live with him, away from our families, it’s... a lot.”

“But those are the things you learn how to do.” She figured, and she was right, but everything was scaring Brendon half to death these days. “You’ll learn how to do laundry and cook and clean. None of it is hard, and you’ll adapt, just like you’ll adapt to living alone with somebody who isn’t family. It will be difficult at first but if you’re sure this is what would be best for you, then you’ll manage together. Dallon is a smart boy, and you are too, Brendon. So you need to think about what you would be comfortable with. Put yourself first. What do you want?”

What do you want? A question Brendon felt like he hadn’t heard in forever. For months he felt like he was living for everyone else, trying to find himself through others, being a good son or brother or boyfriend or friend but never just being Brendon. So what did he want? To find himself again. To live happily and freely without being so scared all the time. To live in harmony with the boy he loved more than anything.

Dallon had told him that there was a day a month and a half before they became friends that he tried to end his life because it was worth nothing anymore. Because he swore he had no future. Brendon had thought the same of himself sometimes, but there was a difference between the two of them. Dallon was the smartest and most capable person Brendon had ever met. Of course he had a future.

Brendon just wanted a future too. Maybe with Dallon, waking up to him in the mornings, making coffee and pancakes with extra oil, kissing over their plates before they went to work. Having kids one day, naming them together and crying over the first filled photo album. Taking them to school, elementary and middle and high school before they went to college and left Brendon a mess all over again. It was so white picket fence America of him, but people like him had fought for years to have that. It was what he wanted.

“I want a future,” Brendon decided, letting his hand linger on the chain around his neck like all of a sudden it was heavier, pressing against his skin.

“I think that’s a wonderful goal.” She said, and he was surprised when she wrote it down. It was a naked, barely thought out plan, it was hardly anything. It was just four words and maybe an empty promise. But he didn’t want it to be empty. That had to count for something. “Do you wanna elaborate?”

For once, Brendon nodded, because maybe like free association he would find some meaning in loose words. “Yeah. Um. I... used to think that because of my fears, because I was so scared of everything, I would never, like, be able to fall in love. People always scared me so I never thought that having a person would be... safe. And now, I mean, Dallon’s my person. We went through a lot this year, and I know it’s stupid to assume your high school relationship is the only one you’ll ever be in. I know, and I don’t want to be naive. But... I can’t picture my life without him.”

“I understand. You really love him, Brendon. And he’s been a constant for you through everything.”

“Uh-huh. And the thing is, I want a future with him. But it seems like sometimes, he doesn’t think he has a future.” He tugged at the chain and then let his hands fall in his lap as she watched him in thought, trying not to jump to conclusions.

"What do you mean, exactly?" She asked, and he hesitated, looking down at his lap. "Brendon, if he's planning on hurting himself then we're obligated to report that."

"He hasn't said anything to me." He said, didn't mention the burns on his forearm though those were very real. She clucked her tongue, studying his face for a lie, and he picked at the chipped polish on his fingernails. "I just think a lot about his past. And how it must be hard, moving on from all of that. Realizing that after wanting to die so badly, you still want to live."

“Brendon.” She insisted, and he looked up at her with big eyes. Wondered how she knew to read him so well. “Is Dallon hurting himself?”

He stared at her for a second wordlessly. Thought about it, considered the words, if they would help. She wanted to help too. He knew that. Slowly he nodded, calculatedly, like the movement would hurt. Like it would make things worse. It would. She sighed, not shocked but maybe disappointed. They all were. It was just how things went with people like Dallon.

“Thank you.” She said flatly, like she were suddenly tired, and he watched her write it down.

“I’m just really worried about him.” He added, putting a hand out to catch her attention, trying to fix what he’d done. “I just want to help. I mean, it’s not like he’s trying to kill himself. But isn’t it just as bad if he’s hurting himself?”

“Yeah, Brendon, it’s just as bad.” She agreed. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He didn’t even really know what he wanted to hear. He crossed his arms, felt guilty immediately when he realized he was talking behind his back, though he wasn’t sure this counted. This was like therapy. He was allowed to talk about Dallon here. She promised his word was safe with her. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I just wanna know how to help.” He responded desperately, wishing she’d give him an answer.

“I think you are. You’ve been good for him. Having someone who cares is really important for somebody like Dallon.” She continued to write something down, this time on a sticky note, and Brendon watched closely but couldn’t make out what she wrote. “What’s important is making sure he has the resources to get help and that he’s aware he needs to use them. Accepting help is always a good step. You yourself might not be able to get him help but there are people who can.”

“It’s not like he’s planning anything.” He reiterated, getting a bad taste in his mouth when he thought about what he’d told her. “We both have depression. It’s hard to handle. We just handle it differently.”

“But self-harm is a big deal, Brendon.” She figured, and he looked at her hesitantly. “If you ever feel that way you need to tell someone, okay?”

“I know.” He nodded, had already heard it a million times, and folded his arms uncomfortably. “The point is, I love him and I want him to be alright.”

“We’ll make sure that he is, okay?” She assured him. Brendon nodded slowly. He wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean.

“Yeah. Okay.” He agreed, desperate for an answer.

* * *

He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about Dallon standing on the edge of a pool, didn't want to think about him wanting to end his life. Didn't want to think about him in tears as he pictured himself never having a future, disappointing his mother, thinking about how he wasn't the son his father raised. He didn't want to think about it, but then he accidentally was.

Brendon didn't know how to handle anything. That was a well-known fact about him. He wasn't good at accommodating, wasn't good at holding in emotions that just didn't want to be bottled up. And he thought for a while about what Dallon had told him, promised that he would be fine and he just needed to process the fact that there were versions of Dallon that were so much darker than he thought, but then he just... wasn't okay. And Dallon was there when he needed him to be, because Brendon was sick of pushing him away. He couldn't push him away again. Even when Dallon needed to be the one to cry on his shoulder, Brendon still ended up in tears.

But still, Dallon was there. Brendon spent his afternoon tucked under Dallon's arm, whispering not so secretive words because talking took too much out of him sometimes. Dallon would whisper back, keep words between them so the rest of the world wouldn't hear them. And he'd brush his lips against Brendon's forehead, tell him what he wanted to hear.

"I'm so sorry." Brendon muttered against Dallon's shoulder.

Dallon shook his head. He knew how Brendon reacted and was planning on never putting him through it. "This was a year and a half ago, Bren." He promised, and now he was alive, and he was okay, and he was taking pills to subside that need to end it all again. That was the thing. Everything was a bandaid. But what happened when it just became another unbandaged wound?

“I know, but you were recovering for two years before...” He closed his eyes, suddenly didn’t want to see any of this.

“Brendon, hey. Look at me.” His fingertip found Brendon’s chin and he tilted it up, meeting his eyes as tears pooled in Brendon’s. “I was not recovering. I was in a psych ward but I wasn’t getting better. I was finding ways to hurt myself in there because I needed to, I walked out of there still angry and hurt and trying to find some reason to live every day. It was like that for two years. It wasn’t recovering. It was trying to pretend I was recovering when I wasn’t.”

“But you still hurt yourself.” Brendon retorted, words with a bite though tears slid down his cheeks when he said it. “You still...” Dallon knew what he meant, swiping tears off his cheeks with his thumbs when Brendon couldn’t say it.

“I know.” He whispered, and Brendon sniffled, because that had to mean something. You didn’t self-harm and not want to die. Dallon wanted to die. He always had, and this wasn’t a cure. Brendon wasn’t a cure. Nothing else was, either. Pills were a bandaid. Cigarette burns were added open wounds but bandaging those up after. Brendon was just another bandaid, and that was the raw truth. “I... I do it because it’s control, Brendon. Because it makes me feel better. It’s like... you remember what we said about the placebo effect?” Wordlessly, Brendon nodded. “It’s like that. It’s my placebo.”

“Which means it doesn’t help.” Brendon's throat closed around tears. That was stupid. That was so goddamn stupid. Dallon was smarter than that, he was above that excuse, like a happy pill and a misplaced ‘I need it’ because some people can’t resist destruction. He knew Dallon was one of them, always had been. Brendon should have known he could never control him.

“It keeps me from doing something worse.” Dallon snapped, but Brendon kept their gazes locked, knew he didn’t mean to be harsh. And sometimes Brendon could see the disparity between a ghost and the real Dallon Weekes, taking the same form and hiding behind the same phrases, but nevertheless dichotomous. That prospect scared him most of all. “I... you see me as somebody who has everything together, Brendon. You think I’m some success story. Everybody does. Because of what? Surviving suicide? Graduating from the psych ward and not having to go back as far as you all know? Being able to handle myself on a daily basis and take care of others and smile without pretending?”

Brendon shrugged and looked down, away from his eyes. “I see you as somebody who manages mental illness. Not somebody who beat it.”

“It just doesn’t feel like it, sometimes.” He admitted, resting his wrist on his forehead in exasperation. “It feels like everyone expects me to be good at this. Recovering. Surviving. Whatever. Like three plus years should make me a master at it. I’m not. I’m just like everybody else with a mental illness. I have the same coping mechanisms as I did back then.”

“Even though you know they’re wrong.” Brendon lamented.

“Yeah. I know they’re wrong. I know my therapist told me it’s detrimental and my friends think it’s stupid and pointless and you do too and I know I hurt people, Brendon, I know. But I don’t care. That’s the thing. I should, and I wish I did, but I don’t. I’ve always been this way. I have to do what works for me because this is all I know. Because hurting myself isn’t killing myself. It’s not the same thing. And it’s not even in the realm of being the same thing.”

“That’s stupid, Dallon.” He argued relentlessly. “And it’s dangerous. I know...” He hiccupped, and Dallon’s eyebrows furrowed but he was listening. “I know you don’t mean to, but... this is horrible. Thinking you have to hurt yourself. You don’t.”

“I don’t know what else to do.” Dallon admitted quietly, and Brendon touched his face gently with nimble fingers. Dallon was just materializing his pain, making it corporal, but was it really better that way? “You think that I know what I’m doing, Brendon, but the truth is I’m just as lost and scared and confused as you are. I’ve been sad for so fucking long and I have no idea what to do so I hurt myself because it makes me feel in control of the pain. It makes it tangible. And I know it’s messed up, and it’s not doing me any good, but it’s a bad habit and I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know if I want to stop.”

“You have to try.” Brendon begged, and Dallon wiped more tears from his boyfriend’s pale cheeks guiltily. “Please, Dal. I need you. You can’t hurt yourself, and you can’t die. We have a future together. We can’t have a future if...”

“Brendon, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” He promised in a whisper, swore it and crossed his heart and told God that this time, Dallon Weekes would win. Because he had been hopeless then. He wasn’t completely hopeless anymore. It was like a second chance, or a third chance, maybe, but this time he didn’t want to lose. “You have me forever, if you want me.”

“No returns. No exchanges.” Brendon muttered, squishing his face against his chest. “Pinky promise.”

“Pinky promise.” Dallon linked his pinky with Brendon’s and left it there when he rested his chin on the top of his head. Brendon sighed, Dallon felt his breath on his skin, and maybe he didn’t have to worry about the future because here it was, in his arms. And he sniffled when he felt Brendon’s body cling to his because he meant what he said. He didn’t want to do something worse. He just wanted to be in control. The placebo effect was the only thing that proved itself effective.

Against his arm, Brendon whispered suddenly, “I don’t want to put you on a pedestal. I just want us to be able to talk about what’s wrong and figure out what to do together.”

Dallon nodded and stroked his hair down gently, didn’t know what to say because he knew Brendon didn’t need to hear any more. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Brendon repeated, turning gently and hugging Dallon’s arm like a pillow. Dallon knew it was horrible. He just didn’t know how to stop. Brendon wouldn’t understand. At this point, nobody really did. “Can we take a nap?” He asked; that was how Brendon avoided anxiety these days, they both knew. Dallon nodded, reaching up to thumb his cheek, and Brendon turned to find his pillow.

"I'm sorry I'm not better." Dallon apologized, not knowing what else to say.

"I am too." Brendon muttered, even his voice sounded exhausted, and Dallon stared down at him when his eyes fell shut.

He watched Brendon doze off, eyelids heavy with sleep because who knew how late he had been staying up these days. And he didn't know how to convince him that he was okay because he wasn't, and he supposed Brendon wasn't either, because if he was then none of this would even be a concern. Brendon would never have gotten this. He thought a lot harder about it than he had been, about how Brendon opened up more than Dallon ever could. He put him on a pedestal, but maybe now he was realizing that Dallon wasn't worth it.

“I love you.” Dallon whispered carefully, like every letter of the three simple words held meaning. They did, and Brendon needed to know it. Dallon received no answer, just a squirming Brendon in his arms, but it was one of those days where he needed to hear it. “Hey.” He poked at him a little to get his sleepy attention. “I love you.”

Brendon turned over suddenly in his somnolence, shifting from one side to the other. Dallon accommodated when Brendon rolled right into his arms again, curling up against his body and trying to keep warm. He nuzzled his face in the smooth skin of Dallon’s arm, muttering a half incoherent and sleepy, “I love you too,” as he curled his fingers around Dallon's shirt.

Dallon brushed a thumb over his pulse point, felt him living and decided that for Brendon, he could too.

* * *

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. The burn of a cigarette and the way Dallon brushed it off like it was nothing. It wasn’t nothing. They both knew it. It makes me feel in control. He’d said it but it didn’t feel like Dallon. It felt like someone who had taken over the Dallon that Brendon knew’s body. Sounded like him, looked like him, but who knew if it really was.

No matter how many times they talked about it he still felt clueless. Useless, really. Like he were reaching for answers and Dallon wouldn’t give him any. He wanted to pretend it wasn’t real but then he saw him, the way his fingers moved or the way his hair fell or the way his lips formed words, and he realized how alive he was. He couldn’t be that alive if he hurt himself.

Brendon wanted his answers. Every conversation just left him as lost as he had felt before.

“This feels like an intervention.” Dallon said, only half joking, when Brendon sat him down across from him at the macaron place the next day, pushing their empty plate away. Dramatic, maybe; Brendon had found that he always made a big deal out of everything. But this was something to make a big deal out of. Dallon’s life was a big deal.

He reached out to take his hands gently, as if about to deliver bad news. “I wanna talk about what you said the other day, Dal. Cause I’m really worried. And I... I didn’t mean to snap, or judge you, or... I don’t know. I didn’t wanna fight with you. I’m just scared.”

Dallon looked tired, all of a sudden. Like they’d exhausted the conversation. Maybe they had. Dallon has been living with it for years. To him it was just digging up buried skeletons. “I know you are. It’s okay.” Dallon looked at their hands and exhaled in a sigh, fingers twitching beneath Brendon’s like they were entities of their own. “I’m not gonna try to kill myself again, Brendon. At least I don’t think I will. And I’ve been really anxious about it, thinking about what we talked about, so I just... I wanna clarify. I don’t want to make it seem like your feelings don’t matter to me. They do. They do so, so much. And I’m gonna try to get better because I know you are too. Because you’re right, we have to work at this stuff together. I’m just... not used to putting someone else’s feelings before mine.”

Brendon’s eyes flickered between careful blue ones, trying to read their honesty. “I don’t want you to put my feelings before yours, Dallon. I want you to find a balance. I know I’m not doing well, and you aren’t either, but... we should both try. And I know you have your coping mechanisms, but...”

“They’re not good ones. I know.” He interrupted, and at least he knew, at least he was trying to know. “And I know it’s stupid, Bren. I know I’m not doing anybody any good. It just feels easier somehow. To do this and know that I still have that familiar part of me. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You’re scared of change,” Brendon said quietly, realizing it suddenly like some strike of lightning because it was just like that, loud and scary and making him want to hide all over again. Of course. That made so much sense. Change. Dallon never wanted to. Especially not when people told him he had to.

“Exactly.” Dallon agreed, nodding too much. Brendon didn't want to believe how similar they could be in such an aspect but they were, and that was something he was trying to come to terms with. “I don’t do it because I want to. I do it because I don’t really know what else to do, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” He didn’t, but he didn’t know how to say it. “Just... please. For me. Try.”

“I try every day, Brendon.” Dallon assured him, though at this point Brendon wasn’t really sure how true that was.

“Okay.” He tried to smile, let it go, brush it off. Dallon was alive. That mattered. That mattered more than most things. “Alright, then. If that’s settled, or whatever, I have to go. I’m visiting Kara and Luca in a few minutes. I miss her. But I’ll see you at school tomorrow, and I’m really glad we talked.” He pressed a kiss to Dallon’s forehead and cupped his cheek when Dallon tried to smile. “Call me tonight. I love you.”

“You too, Urie. Have fun. Try not to get puked on this time.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ll try.” He smiled cheekily and waved before he disappeared, leaving Dallon feeling warmer than he had a second ago. He turned to smile at him over his shoulder, praying that that made things better and not worse. Dallon watched him until he was gone, and even now Brendon found it so hard to try and read his mind. He sped up into a fast walk, and his lungs burned for air anyway so he figured it couldn't hurt.

Brendon knocked on the apartment door in front of him, out of breath after having made himself jog the last few blocks, rocking back and forth on his feet. His backpack was heavy on his shoulder and he knew already that he’d be putting off studying for that test in statistics and writing that English paper, so much had been on his mind lately, anyway. The door opened, and Brendon smiled warmly at Kara’s boyfriend, keys in hand and a jacket over his shoulders.

“Hi, Ben.” Brendon greeted quietly.

“Hi, Brendon. It's good to see you.” He nodded in acknowledgment and turned to look into the apartment. “I’ll be home tonight, babe. Love you. Later, kid.” He blew a kiss to Kara and nudged Brendon before he slid into the hallway while Brendon stepped into the apartment, and Kara called a goodbye from the living room. He was just leaving for work, and Brendon was just arriving to see his sister and her son.

“Hi, little brother. How was school? What’s going on?” Kara greeted as he went through the motions of taking off his shoes and jacket and setting his bag down, stretching out his arms, making himself comfortable as this was a place that wasn't tainted with memories of fear just yet.

“Oh, school was school. I just got macarons with Dallon before I came here. We talked about some stuff that’s been bothering us and I think we’re okay. For the most part, anyway.”

She looked up at him worriedly, holding up the squirming baby in his onesie with a duckling pattern on them. “Were you ever not okay?”

“No, we were fine, it’s just... some misunderstandings." He hung his jacket up, pushed his sneakers against the wall. "There are just some things that we don’t feel the same about. I guess we’re not always gonna be on the same page.”

“It’s good that you understand that, Bren.” She said solemnly and Brendon nodded in agreement. He and Dallon should always be on the same page. Especially about things that were this life threatening. “Come here, we’re about to read Goodnight Moon before his nap. I read this to you with mama when you were little.”

“Yeah, it was my favorite book that wasn’t a fairytale.” He headed over toward the couch and sat on her right side, looking over as she flipped open the first page to the tiny book, holding it up so Luca could see it.

“In the great green room, there was a telephone, and a red balloon, and a picture of the cow jumping over the moon. And there were three little bears sitting on chairs and two little kittens and a pair of mittens, and a little toy house and a young mouse.” Kara read quietly, pointing out the mouse to the baby as he aimlessly went to grip her finger. “And a comb and a brush and a bowl full of mush, and a quiet old lady whispering hush. Goodnight room, goodnight moon, goodnight cow jumping over the moon.”

She flipped the page gently and Luca sat, sleepy and mesmerized, as Brendon reached out to touch the edge of the page. “Goodnight light and the red balloon, goodnight bears, goodnight chairs, goodnight kittens and goodnight mittens. Goodnight clocks and goodnight socks, goodnight little house and goodnight mouse.”

Kara bumped her shoulder against his and he tried to smile. “Goodnight comb and goodnight brush, goodnight nobody, goodnight mush, and goodnight to the lady whispering hush. Goodnight stars, goodnight air, goodnight noises everywhere.” She finished in a whisper, and closed the book to set it aside as she cradled her son in her arms. Brendon stared at her for a second, seemingly lost, and she said, “Bren, c’mere.”

She wrapped an arm around him and he accepted the hug, wondering if it was really that obvious. He had never been sure who could tell. But she squeezed him, rubbed his back, and he whispered like he wished it wasn’t true, “I’m so scared.”

“I know.” She nodded, though she didn’t know what about, and when he pulled away he moved to lie down beside her, resting his head on her thigh because he was tired. He was tired, and he didn’t want to think anymore. “I know, Bren. It’s okay to be scared.”

Brendon nodded again, squeezing his eyes shut. It was okay to be scared. He really needed to get around to telling Dallon that.


	57. Chapter 56: High School Sweethearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I looooove this chapter too :)

He got the paper when he was in art class. He’d been mixing paint when he got it, and he stopped, looked it over, tried to think about what he had done.

Now Dallon pinched the slip of paper in between his index finger and thumb, staring down at it. Dallon Weekes. Guidance. One thirty p.m.

Nothing good ever came out of his guidance counselor visits. Unless he scheduled them himself to talk about his courses then they always ended up the same way; his counselor worrying about him, and him lying to make her feel better. Hiding, as he did. He knew how they went. Knew that it probably wouldn’t change anytime soon, either.

He knocked on her door at one twenty-nine and she called for him to come in. She knew it was him. He was a coward but he didn’t skip appointments. That looked too suspicious. He sat down across from her, in the only chair there, and asked, “Why am I here?”

No dancing around it, no polite hello. Just a blatant question. Why was he there? A question. A good one, too.

She looked uncomfortable, squirming in her seat and looking down at her note. “I got a report that you may be self-harming.” She started hesitantly, and he sat up, suddenly alert. “And I’m not here to interrogate you, Dallon, I’m just checking in to make sure you’re alright and-

“You— you got a report? Someone reported me?” He asked, and she opened her mouth to respond but he interrupted again. “Wait. No. Who reported me? Brendon?”

Something flickered in her eyes, realization, maybe, and she asked knowingly, “Why would you assume it was Brendon?”

He glared at her. She knew not to play dumb. They’d established their dynamic years ago. “Because you talk to him every week and Ryan and Josh know not to say anything.” He snapped.

She sighed, looking down at the top of her desk though she wasn’t fooling anyone. She looked guilty. He had seen her pity look enough times to know when she was doing it again. “You know I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Fucking Brendon.” He said under his breath, and she narrowed her eyes at him because she knew telling him to watch his language wouldn’t work. Dallon tended not to listen to anybody. “Okay. Look. You know Brendon. He worries. He worries too much. Sometimes about things that he has no business worrying about. I told him more about my past and that scares him, and he probably freaked out and is jumping to conclusions. I’m okay.”

She sighed, clearly disbelieving. “Dallon-“

“Would I really lie about something so stupid when I know what the repercussions are?” He asked, and she looked defeated. “Seriously. I’m okay. I swear. Brendon just freaks out about things he doesn’t know and he tries to fill in the blank spaces. I don’t tell him everything about myself and he takes that to heart when he shouldn’t. He takes things personal. You know he does.”

“Maybe so, Dallon, but nobody would come to me and say that you’re self-harming if they weren’t being truthful. Especially not Brendon.” She argued.

“I think he’s just trying to make sense of this. My life. My tragic past. Whatever it is, he wants to know about it. I mean, several months ago he saw me self-harm. Half a year. That’s a long time. He doesn’t know how serious this kind of thing is. He’s just doing his thing. Being dramatic because he’s scared.”

Her shoulders deflated visibly as she sat back in her chair, observing him closely. He’d gotten good at lying. She had always been skeptical. But the thing about Dallon was that not often did people dare to defy him. “I don’t know.” She said finally, hesitant, and his fingers curled around his own wrist. “Dallon. We’ve been down this road before.”

“Which is why you should trust me when I say there’s really nothing to worry about.” He insisted. She took a deep breath, watching his eyes, and he kept a straight face. He felt like he was going to cry and his throat burned with tears and he kept a straight face, because he couldn’t let her know.

“Okay.” She decided, and he shifted hopefully. “Okay, Dallon, fine. I’m not gonna force it out of you. But I want you to be careful. It’s worrying that your boyfriend is coming to me to tell me that you’re hurting yourself.”

“I’m being careful. I promise.” He crossed his heart, crossed his fingers too, and she said nothing, only watched him doubtfully. “Can I go?” He asked, uncomfortable and worried she could see through the facade. But she nodded, though she didn’t want to let him go, and he jumped up.

“I’m serious, Dallon. Be careful.” She added, her eyes following him as he grabbed his bag and headed toward the door. He looked at her, nodded, but he wouldn’t agree to anything. He didn’t owe her anything.

The door fell shut behind him, and he bit back tears as he headed down the vacant hall.

Dally: what time does your shift end today

Bumblebee: six why

Dally: we need to talk.

* * *

It was six when Dallon pushed through the door of the diner, not bothering with a smile when Brendon gave him one. Just as quickly he dropped it, though, seeing that Dallon wasn’t happy to see him. “Hi.” He greeted timidly instead, reading him well enough by now.

“Come upstairs.” Dallon demanded in lieu of a greeting, heading toward the stairs in the back. Brendon took off his apron and followed, chasing him up the stairs and to his room without a word.

His hands shook as he closed the door behind him. This wasn’t unlike Dallon, being a mystery as he did, but Brendon knew him well enough to know that he was upset. Brendon had a knack for upsetting Dallon. “So... what is it that we need to talk about?” He asked, trying not to mask his genuine curiosity.

Dallon shook his head, trying to find the words to express his anger though he couldn’t seem to find any that fit just right. “You reported me.” He accused blatantly, and Brendon sat down on the edge of his bed, eyebrows furrowed, but feeling anxiety in his veins at his tone.

“Reported you for what, Dallon? What are you talking about?”

“Reported me for self-harm, Brendon, for trying to kill myself, for whatever you said to her, you reported me. Do you have any fucking idea what that means?”

“Wait, who is her? Ms. Kenny?”

“Yes!” He snapped. Brendon flinched, sitting back on his bed out of instinct. He didn’t report him. He just talked to her like he always did. That wasn’t reporting. He didn’t file anything. He calmed himself down a second, still fuming, and said as if he were speaking to a child, “Look. What did you say to her?”

Brendon looked down at his lap, trying to recall their conversation. He hadn’t said anything incriminating, had he? He didn’t think... “N-nothing, I just— I told her that I was worried about you and that you weren’t talking about killing yourself.”

“But you told her that I burn myself!” He yelled, not caring that Brendon’s family was home or how accusatory he sounded.

“Not that specifically! I-I told her-“ He stopped and shut his mouth before he could say anything, because Dallon was right. He told her Dallon hurt himself. He just didn’t know that that was going to affect him too.

“You had no right to do that.” He hissed, eyes flashing dangerously when Brendon tried to defend himself. “You had no fucking right.”

“I didn’t mean to report you.” Brendon said honestly, tears in his eyes. He never liked crying in front of people, tried to avoid it as much as possible, but failed every time. “I just— she’s like my therapist, Dallon.” He pleaded.

“She’s my guidance counselor, Brendon!” He argued. “If you tell a school guidance counselor that someone is self-harming you’re reporting them! It doesn’t matter if she’s like your therapist. If you want everything to be confidential you should go to an actual therapist. But you can’t drag my life into your shit!”

“Okay.” He cried, wiping tears off his cheeks as they spilled. “I won’t do it again.”

He shook his head in disbelief like he couldn’t fathom the fact that Brendon would dare apologize. “It doesn’t matter, Brendon. You can’t just— take that back.”

“I don’t see why it’s such a big deal, though.” Brendon added defensively, trying to make it right, but the words just made him feel guiltier. “I mean, what’s the worst they can do?”

“They could send me to the hospital, Brendon.” He snapped, and Brendon stared at him in shock because he didn’t know. He didn’t know who had that authority. That they could make him go. “They could admit me for trying to kill myself and I’d have to go back, probably for a while, and it didn’t help me when I was there. It drove me fucking crazy. I know what’s best for me and I can’t go back there. So you need to mind your business because this has nothing to do with you.”

“I’m sorry.” Brendon cried, wiping his cheeks again with shaking fingers and wishing he’d never even fucking said anything. “But it is my business, Dallon, you are my business, and you’re my best friend and I need you to be healthy. This isn’t healthy.”

“It’s not about you, Brendon! It’s not about you needing me to be anything. This is about me and how you betrayed my trust. This is about how this was a total breach of privacy. I— I don’t know how you didn’t know there would be consequences. I don’t know how you didn’t think first.”

“I didn’t think it was reporting you!” He defended himself. “I just thought— I just thought she was asking because she was worried.”

“She’s a guidance counselor, Brendon.” He said flatly, as if accusing him of being stupid for not realizing. He never made Brendon feel stupid. “It’s her job to report me. I just— you shouldn’t have told her. You should have known better.”

“But I didn’t and I’m sorry.” He said, begging in his tone.

“I can’t.” Dallon shook his head suddenly, realizing he couldn’t be here, and wouldn’t meet his eyes as he crossed the room furiously. “I can’t do this right now. I have to go.”

“Dallon.” Brendon shot up, following him to the door. “Dallon, please.” He reached out to grab his arm and Dallon shrugged him off. “Can we please talk about it?”

“No. We talked about it. I’m done. I need a break.” He slipped through the door and slammed it behind him, making Brendon jump backward. He stared at it for a long minute, wide eyed, and listened to the sound of footsteps down the stairs, the front door closing, Dallon leaving and not letting him explain. He didn’t even know how to explain. He didn’t even have the words.

He fucked up. He knew that now. He fucked up and hurt him and it felt like the final nail in the coffin.

Brendon stared down at his ruffled comforter that night, holding a hand over his mouth and trying to think. What did he say? What was so incriminating that Ms. Kenny thought it was worth asking Dallon about. Sure, he said he self-harmed, but was that enough? Brendon didn’t know it was that serious. He thought she knew. He thought they’d established that.

Dallon wouldn’t answer the phone. Brendon called him, texted him, but he wouldn’t answer. He was mad. He had the right to be. But he knew how Brendon was. They promised not to fight over stupid things, hadn’t they? Dallon promised nothing could hurt them.

“Hey.” Mason‘s voice came quietly from the hallway, leaning against the doorframe when Brendon turned to look at him. “Why are you crying?”

“Do I really cry that loud?” He asked, wiping his cheeks off in disbelief.

Mason nodded, folding his arms, and Brendon looked away with a sigh. “What’s goin’ on, Brenner?” He asked gently, in this way he never spoke to him.

He shook his head. “Dallon and I got in a stupid fight because I did something I shouldn’t have done and now he’s not answering me and I think I fucked everything up. I just— I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew it could have been this bad. I thought I was doing the right thing. I just never know what the right thing fucking is.” He sniffled, brushing tears off his cheeks again. “Sorry. It’s not your problem.”

“I’m in here, aren’t I?” He nudged him, and Brendon sniffled again, looking up to meet his eyes as he took a seat on the bed.

“Am I really that oblivious?” He asked his brother, and Mason raised his eyebrows at him. “I mean, I always say or do the wrong thing. I’m so stupid sometimes.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid, Brendon. I think you mean well and sometimes you just don’t know how to show that. I mean, I know you love Dallon. Anyone with eyes can see that. I don’t think even he thinks that you have bad intentions.”

“I know, but even if he doesn’t think that, I still constantly fuck up! I mean, I do stupid things without thinking all the time. I try to help and I make things worse. I hate that about me. I wish I could stop.”

“It’s a good thing that you care, little brother. I bet Dallon appreciates it even when you go about it the wrong way.”

“I don’t know.” He wiped his cheek, fingers trembling. “He was mad. Like, really mad. I don’t know if he’s gonna forgive me this time. This was so stupid. God, I’m so stupid!” He covered his face with his hands as he said it, as if he had just realized. He was so fucking stupid. Idiotic. He didn’t deserve Dallon. “I don’t know how to stop being like this.”

Mason set a hand on his shoulder, breaking this barrier between them of less than close. They didn't get along often, except lately he’d begun to see Brendon more of a person than an annoying little brother. Brendon felt strange telling him about his life, like it didn’t feel totally comfortable yet. Like he was unfamiliar with the prospect of his oldest brother caring about his problems.

“Don’t stop caring too much, Bren. I think it’s cool that you would do anything for the people you love. Even if it means fucking up and risking them getting mad at you.” He got up, and Brendon’s eyes followed. “I’m gonna leave you alone to get some rest. But listen: Dallon loves you. I can tell. We all can. Everything’s gonna be fine.” He started toward the door but turned back to add, “You gonna be okay?”

Brendon nodded. “Mhm.” He sniffled, so Mason let himself out, nodding a head at him in solidarity as he smiled gently. It set Brendon at ease in a way. He appreciated that. That he was trying.

He fell back on his bed, looking at the dinosaur holding a cake, and tried to repeat his brother’s words until he believed them.

* * *

On Thursday morning Brendon stared at himself in the mirror and prayed that he hadn’t ruined everything. He pushed his hair back, biting the inside of his cheek, knew Dallon would probably compliment the way he looked with his hair out of his eyes if he didn’t hate him right now. He pulled on his favorite pink sweatshirt, bags under his eyes and his hair greasy, he looked like such a mess, and slipped back into the hallway.

“Do you want breakfast?” His mom asked as he slid his converse on at the door.

“M’not hungry.” He denied, and only said a quick goodbye before she could question him. He tugged his sweatshirt sleeves over his hands, heading down into the diner where his dad prepared to open. He looked up at his youngest, nodding his head in a hello. “Um, Dallon’s not driving me today. Could you drive me?”

“Sure, kid.” His dad agreed, never said no, Brendon really appreciated that about him. “Everything okay?” He grabbed his keys from the counter, and Brendon shrugged one shoulder half-heartedly. Okay? Things definitely weren’t okay.

“I don’t really know.” He admitted, and when his father looked back at him he added, “Dumb fight.” He didn’t know what else to say about it. It was a dumb fight. He made a dumb mistake. He had to deal with that. “I don’t want to bother him. I’m gonna try to talk to him about it today. I just... don’t really wanna walk alone.”

“Understandable. C’mon.” He nodded toward the door and Brendon led him out, around the diner and to his father’s car in the back lot. He liked Dallon’s the most, the way he felt comfortable in it immediately, the polaroid picture of he and his friends on the dash. It felt like home. Everything about Dallon did.

He loved Dallon. He knew that. Maybe it was puppy love, or just hopeful dreaming, or a nightmare waiting to happen. They fought sometimes, though, argued about only the big things and had trouble talking about the little things and didn’t know how to get things across well. He loved Dallon. He just didn’t know how exactly to talk to him sometimes. He didn’t really know how to talk to anyone. That wasn’t specific to any one person. With Dallon, it just made things harder. To be in a relationship, and all.

He stared out the window and listened to the shitty song on the radio until his dad pulled up to the front of his school, where his peers wandered around before the first bell. He thanked him as he climbed out, avoiding his curious gaze. He wanted to know what the fight was about, he was looking between Brendon and where Dallon always stood, but Brendon didn’t want to tell him. He needed to see what this was first. Where they stood.

“Dallon.” Brendon called out when he neared him, standing at Josh’s car with his friends. Dallon turned to look at him with a sigh and, without a warning to Ryan or Josh, walked away from the parking lot and toward the building. Brendon tsked, chasing after him. “Come on.”

“I can’t talk to you right now.” Dallon muttered, not even looking him in the eye.

“Dallon.” Brendon called, but Dallon pushed past him, shaking his head. “Dallon!” He repeated, but Dallon didn’t even turn. A few of his peers did, though, and suddenly he realized they were out in the world, their bubble popped, and his shoulders fell in defeat. He didn’t know what else to try. He didn’t know how to mend fences.

He didn’t know how he’d managed to fool himself, after all. Of course they were going to crash and burn. High school sweethearts never lasted. He was just surprised that he led himself to believe they’d be different.

He felt tears in his eyes as he rushed up the steps, going to hide until the first bell rang.

* * *

Brendon went to the library for lunch, too nervous to try and confront his boyfriend again. Rejection always hit a little too hard. Ryan saw him sitting down when he passed by the library and frowned as he went to meet his friends. He thought Dallon would have caved, but then again he was good at holding grudges.

“Hey.” Ryan greeted with obvious skepticism in his voice. Dallon looked up briefly, and Ryan sat down across from him. “Have you talked to Brendon?”

Dallon wouldn’t meet his eyes as he played with his hands, trying to look busy. “No, I’m not talking to him.” He told him, no details, but Ryan didn’t even need to know.

“Dallon.” Ryan sighed, or rather berated, in that way he always did when Dallon was wrong. He knew that tone of voice well. Dallon rolled his eyes to himself visibly but said nothing so Ryan got up, grabbing his bottle of water from the table and seeming to want to make a scene.

“Where are you going?” Dallon asked in disbelief, his eyes following him as he stood.

“To give him someone to have lunch with. I’ll see you guys later.” He rolled his eyes too, he always made Dallon feel so stupid when he did that, and disappeared before Dallon could protest.

Brendon sat alone in the library with his math worksheet out, though he couldn’t focus on it. I can’t talk to you right now. He just kept hearing his voice play over and over in his head like a loop. He didn’t want this to be over because of one stupid mistake. He didn’t want it to end like this. So badly. So violently.

“Hey, Bren.” Ryan huffed suddenly, almost out of breath. Brendon looked up from his homework, surprised to see him, as Ryan was never one to take sides.

“Hey.” He greeted quietly, tapping his pencil’s eraser against the table like he did when he was nervous. “You’re not at lunch?”

“Nah. Dal is driving me crazy today. He does that sometimes, you know? I figured I’d come sit with you instead, if you’ll have me. I know Tyler isn’t here today. If you’d like company...”

“Oh. Sure.” He pulled his jacket toward himself to make room as Ryan took a seat. Brendon didn’t know if it was pity, the reason he was there, to keep him company, but he didn’t take it for granted, just rested his chin in his hand and put his pencil down and stared like Ryan would tell him everything he needed to hear. “Did he say anything? About me, I mean.”

“Uh, not really. I asked if he talked to you and he said he’s not talking to you right now.” He pulled his notebook out of his backpack. “Which brings me here. How are you?”

“Um... I don’t know. Pissed off. Freaked out. He said he needed a break. I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.” He sighed. Tried not to hate himself for dumping all of his problems on Ryan, though he showed up and asked and that was enough. “I’m so sick of this back and forth. If he’s gonna break up with me I wish he would fucking do it already. I’m so anxious.”

“I get it. Dallon is... anxiety-inducing, to say the least.” He tapped his fingers, half frowning.

“We get in stupid fights all the time. I don’t know if that, like, means something or not. If it means we’re not compatible, or that we shouldn’t keep trying to make us work, or— I don’t know. I just hate fighting with him all the time.” He rambled, hoping somehow that Ryan could help. He was brutally honest with Dallon because he could get away with it. Brendon didn’t want to try and cross that line. “Maybe I’m just not fit to be with him. Maybe I’m trying to save him and that’s just hurting us.”

“I think that...” He paused, seemingly pensive. “I think that you and Dallon are in this cycle of feeling like you need to save each other. I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing; everyone wants to help the people they love. But because of that wanting to save each other, sometimes you hit sore spots and that’s what causes the problem. You two don’t know when something is too far, y’know?”

Brendon tried to smile at him, recognized then why he wanted to be a therapist, but didn’t really know what to say. He was right. He went too far sometimes. He didn’t know how to set that boundary. “I know. The problem is that I don’t know how to tell when it’s too far so I never stop pushing.”

“As you get to know each other better, you’ll figure it out. Find what buttons not to press. It’ll take a while, I think. I’ve known Dallon since I was born and I still don’t really know when not to push it sometimes.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He sat back in his seat. “Thank you. This was really helpful.”

“Sure. Now, in return, show me what you got on the astronomy homework. I wanna make sure I got this right.”

“Sure.” He slid him his paper, tucked under his notebook, but his eyes lingered as Ryan went to pull his out of his bag. He was right. He had to teach himself not to try and save everybody. Dallon didn’t need saving. He just needed to be loved. Brendon figured that first, he had to find out how to differentiate between the two.

* * *

There was a knock on Brendon’s door when he was just starting his astronomy homework. He looked up from his bed and hoped it was Dallon, he had constructed an apology all day but never had the chance because Dallon was gone before Brendon could even get out of class. “Come in.” He called, but it was Tyler who slipped into his room, closing the door behind him.

“Hey, tiny.” He greeted quietly, and Brendon closed his textbook with a nod of his head. “Josh told me you aren’t talking to Dallon. I had to hear it from my boyfriend and not you. What’s going on, Bren?”

Brendon sighed like it were innate as Tyler sat on the edge of his bed, pushing his glasses up on his nose. There was a reason he didn’t tell him. It was a dumb mistake and he didn’t need to broadcast it. Tyler just didn’t get those things anymore. He never made dumb mistakes. “It’s stupid. I accidentally told Ms. Kenny something bad and now Dallon’s pissed because I put him in danger. I shouldn’t have said anything. I just wasn’t thinking. And now he won’t talk to me. He won’t even look at me. I’m just so sick of fucking fighting with him.” He laid back on his bed. “I wanna apologize. He just won’t let me.”

“Well, maybe you should just give him some time.” Tyler set a hand on his knee supportively and Brendon groaned, overwhelmed. He couldn’t get it out of his head. The fierce look in Dallon’s eye. The look of betrayal. “I mean... you guys have fought before. You always manage to repair it, right?”

“That’s the thing. This seems worse. Like I really fucked up. I’m scared that I won’t be able to fix it. God. What if we break up, Ty? He knows everything about me. I sent him naked photos of myself. Oh, god.” He covered his face with his hands, humiliated. “God.”

Tyler observed him for a second, half frowning. He knew his place. Knew that since what happened to Brendon, nothing had been the same. You couldn’t ever really understand a type of loss until you experienced one. Same with mental illness. There were just places they differed now. Tyler saw that too. Neither of them addressed it.

“Maybe... maybe you should break up.” Tyler said after a minute, obviously calculating, like he knew he shouldn’t say it. And he shouldn’t, and he knew that, but he didn’t take it back when Brendon reacted.

He looked up at him, confused, and retorted, “What the fuck do you mean we should break up?”

“Brendon, come on. Look at you right now.” Tyler gestured to him and Brendon pushed himself up on his elbows angrily. “You’re stressed and anxious all the time and you’re always worrying about him and you get in so many fights. You said you’re sick of fighting with him. It’s not a bad thing. It’s just that you might be better off as friends.”

“Please. We were never friends. There were never innocent intentions.” He sat up, eyes hard and narrow, as Tyler sat back instinctively. “I love him, Tyler. He’s been with me through all of this and he gets me in this way no one else does. I don’t just love him because of the easy stuff. It’s in spite of the hard stuff too. Not everyone can deal with that. I didn’t think I would be able to. But I would rather be with him and learn to work out our issues than quit after a few stupid, petty fights.”

“Okay. I’m sorry for suggesting it.” He put his hands up in surrender.

“I can’t believe you would.” He watched his face curiously, trying to figure it out. It wasn’t like him. At least, he didn’t think it would be. “Why would you say that?”

He shook his head, afraid that he was getting it all wrong. “Look. I like Dallon. You know I do. But you just haven’t been the same. I feel like you’re always telling me about your arguments and how you’re worried about him and it feels like something’s wrong, Brendon. Your life shouldn’t revolve around thinking of other people. I’m worried about you.”

Brendon shook his head too. Dallon was his person. He wasn’t only there for Brendon to worry about. “That’s not fair. You don’t have to be worried about me. What is this about?”

“I just— I just miss you, Bren, okay?” He admitted, and the words sounded desperate but Brendon was hesitant when he looked back at him. “I miss spending time with you. I don’t know if it’s because of Dallon or what, but I feel like we aren’t in sync anymore and you’re my best friend, I thought that we weren’t gonna change when we got boyfriends. We promised each other. And it’s not that I’m jealous that he’s getting all your time, but you haven’t come to me for anything in months and I really miss us. I miss being your best friend.”

“That’s not because of Dallon. It’s because I was sexually assaulted.” He snapped, disregarding the sad undertone because it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t break up with his boyfriend. It wasn’t that easy. “There are just some things that you don’t understand. I’m not the same person as I was before, okay? Dallon— he understands what it’s like to lose something. Your innocence. Not just in a sex way. In a this changed my life and I’ll never be the same kind of way. I’m sorry you feel like Dallon is replacing you or whatever but that’s not it. You can’t assume it has anything to do with you.”

He looked scared when he nodded, looking apologetic. “Okay. I’m sorry. I don’t want to assume it’s about me. It’s just hard not to when it’s so obvious that something has changed.”

“Something has changed!” He argued too hastily, and Tyler looked like he was going to cry. “I’m not me anymore, Tyler. I don’t know how to get back to who I was. If I have to deal with this then so do you. So does everyone around me. It’s not up for discussion. I don’t wanna be that person but sometimes you need to accommodate. This is one of those situations.” He looked away indignantly, suddenly put off. He didn’t want to be having this conversation. He really didn’t feel up to it. “Can I be alone right now, please?”

“Brendon.” His tone was begging.

“Please.” He asserted. Tyler looked hesitant but he got up, arms folded over his chest, a look of distress on his face. Brendon looked away from him further, refused to meet his eyes, and Tyler gave up, knew how stubborn he could be. He left without a word and Brendon fell back on his bed, covering his eyes with his hands. He hated fighting with everyone. He just didn’t know how to stop.

* * *

“Hey, keiki.” Brendon’s mother greeted as she stepped into the kitchen, eyeing him as he played with his water bottle, tearing up its label just for fun. “What are you doing? Why the long face?”

“Tyler and I got in a fight.” He pouted, rolling the torn paper in his fingertips. “He thinks I should break up with Dallon because we fight too much or something, but it’s just that he misses when we were closer. And I do too, he’s been my friend for half my life, but... I don’t know. Is it unfair of me to say that I feel less like we’re on the same plane now? After what happened to me, I mean.”

“I don’t think that’s unfair.” She told him thoughtfully, making this face like she were really contemplating. “But you guys understood each other on a different level too. Neither of you had any other friends. After you became glued at the hip you rejected anybody else. He is your best friend, Brendon. Even if he can’t relate to you in certain aspects you know he’s still there for you.”

“I just don’t want that to be at expense of my boyfriend.” He pouted, cheek in hand. He didn’t know what to do. If there was an ultimatum or a choice he had to make.

“If they respect you neither of them would make you choose.” She pointed out insightfully, and he hated when she was right. “Hey, maybe you should get your mind off of it. Give them some time to cool down. Hang out with someone who isn’t mad at you.”

“Everyone’s mad at me, mama. I have no friends.” He lamented.

She rolled her eyes in that way that told him he was overdramatic, but he didn’t see it that way. Everyone was mad at him. It wasn’t exactly a lie. “I’m sure you will figure something out.” She retorted, not bothering to feel bad because he was just being stubborn. He frowned at her, about to ask what was wrong with him, but she just went to throw the torn-up remnants of his water bottle’s label in the trash and the words got caught in his throat.

Brendon: hey are u busy?

Ryan: nope what’s up

Brendon: I’m just bored wanna do something?

Ryan: sure meet me halfway?

Brendon: sure thing

He locked his phone, slipped it in his pocket, went to find his jacket it the front room. Slipped on his pink vans and found his bus card. Headed down the stairs and ran a hand through his hair and tried hard not to think about it.

* * *

“I really love Grandma Daisy’s.” Brendon poked absently at his ice cream sundae, making his spoon clink against the side of his bowl. “I think that I would take a bullet for ice cream.”

“I think I would too.” Ryan agreed, scooping up a green gummy bear with his spoon. “My brother used to bring me to get ice cream when my dad was fighting with my mom. It was kinda like— like I was classically conditioned. My parents fight, and I get ice cream. It was weird. Selfish, because I was kinda always like, at least I get ice cream out of it! I mean, I feel bad about saying it now, but my mom fought with him too. I love her but she fueled it a lot of the time. So. As long as I got ice cream, it just wasn’t that bad.”

“At least you got ice cream,” Brendon said softly. Ryan nodded, sitting back in his seat, and Brendon added, “you have chocolate on your face.”

“So do you.” He half smiled, and they split the last napkin they got to wipe their faces. Ryan crumpled his half of the napkin as he sat back in his seat, reaching out for his spoon again. “So, what’s goin’ on?”

“That’s a loaded question.” Brendon pointed out, and Ryan only shrugged, because he knew that about himself. That he asked a lot of questions. “Um, a lot. Dallon’s still ignoring me, I texted him a few times and he hasn’t answered, so I’m trying to give him space.” He paused to pick at his ice cream, pulling out a gummy bear, he’d added them to his sundae because Ryan had convinced him that it would be good, and bit its head off because that somehow seemed more humane than the other way around. “You know, Tyler thinks we should break up.” He added, poking his thumb nail into the candy. Ryan hummed, not entirely shocked, and the thought was jarring when Brendon asked, “Do you?”

“Well, I’ve never had a good representation of love or a successful relationship with another human so I don’t really know.” He scooped up another gummy bear, a red one this time. “But I think you and Dallon are pretty good together. You keep each other grounded. That’s important.”

“That’s what I think too! We complement each other. Even when we fuck up. It’s always in each other’s best interest.” He pouted suddenly when he realized that maybe not everyone thought of it that way. “He used to be so excited that Dallon and I were together. I just can’t stop thinking about it. I mean, I know we fight but it’s because we care about each other. I don’t know.”

“If it’s any consolation, I can tell that you guys care about each other. And besides, Dallon loves you. He always just takes a minute to realize you have good intentions.” Ryan pointed out, and Brendon supposed that from an outsider’s point of view that was true. Especially from somebody who knew Dallon so well. “Don’t listen to Tyler. He’s... bossy, sometimes. It doesn’t mean his advice is good.”

“True.” Brendon half laughed and went to shovel more ice cream in his mouth. No one had the right to tell them who they were. And anyway, Tyler didn’t get it. What it was like to be sick and love someone so deeply and so vigorously that sometimes all of it got caught together. Mental illness was a hard thing to comb out and pull away from the normal human emotions. “It’s just weird, y’know? Tyler and I never fight. He’s always been too scared of hurting me because I was already fucked up. Now it’s just... different. Like it doesn’t matter because we have less to lose. I just don’t know what to do with this.”

“Well, things change. So do people. There’s not much you can do but change with them.” Ryan shrugged, and he was right. Things changed. Brendon just didn’t know when they had all begun to.

* * *

The air was chilly as the sun went down, disappearing behind the mountains. The weather was getting more and more unpredictable, he thought as he stared out at the play sets, all the children having gone home already. Their parents didn’t want them out when the sun was setting. It was a safe neighborhood and all, but then again, the playground wasn’t a place people wanted to be at night.

It was a good thing Dallon never really went there to play.

The wind blew and he kicked his feet at the ground to push his swing. It felt youthful, nostalgic, but in a way that hurt. He missed back then, when he was learning how to pump his legs. When his biggest dream was to be the highest kid on the swing. Now things were different, he was different.

His father had taught him how to pump his legs. The thought made Dallon’s heart ache.

Dallon: I know you’re mad at me but I need you

Ryan: I’m on my way

Ryan: I’m still mad at you though

Dallon: who isn’t

Ryan rolled his eyes, but closed his bedroom door behind him. They did anything for each other. That was how they worked.

Dallon stared out at the dark sky as the sun faded, squinting and trying to make out the line of the mountains way out in the distance. This park was like a safe space, close to home and a place that hadn’t been tainted with bad memories. It was just his. He liked to go there to think.

The wind was chilly and he pulled his jacket around him tighter, hiding his face in the collar. He liked the crisp air outside, though, the way it was fresher closer to the mountains and how he was farther from the city and could see the stars. He loved the stars. Looking at constellations and pretending he knew what they were.

“You made me come all the way to Hemenway.” Ryan’s voice accused suddenly, shoving Dallon’s swing and making it swing side to side as he laughed, holding on to the edges just in case. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d hurt himself at a playground. It would just be the first here. “You’re either driving me home or I’m sleeping over, dude.”

Dallon smiled sheepishly, knew he should really start making more of an effort. “You can sleep over. Borrow clothes, I’ll take you to school. I just needed to talk.”

“But not to Brendon?” He took a seat on the swing next to him, and Dallon turned to look at him. He knew what he was doing. Everything Ryan said was calculated. It was just the way he was. Dallon looked away indignantly, and Ryan asked, “What’s going on, Dal?”

“He told our guidance counselor that I self-harm.” He admitted quietly, and Ryan’s eyes grew wide as Dallon turned to meet his gaze again. “Yeah, I know. And it’s just— fuck. He tries to take everything in his own hands and sometimes he ends up making things worse. I know he doesn’t mean to, but sometimes I feel like he doesn’t listen to me. He doesn’t listen when I tell him that I’m okay and that I don’t need his intervention and-“

“But you do.” Ryan interrupted. Dallon shut his mouth to look at him in surprise at his temerity. “Need his intervention, I mean. You’re not okay, Dallon. Two months ago you were crying to me about how you weren’t okay. You can tell all of us how great you’re doing, and how you’re handling it, but you’re not handling anything. You’re just putting us all in bad positions and not letting us have any leeway. I mean, you know I love you, Dal, and I mean this in a best friend kind of way, but you can’t burn yourself in front of the people you care about or say in passing that you want to die or do careless shit to avoid your emotions and then have the audacity to get upset when we worry.”

“I didn’t say you’re not allowed to worry, Ryan! I just don’t want him telling people who could put me back in the hospital! I need help from the people who actually care about me. Not a bunch of doctors.”

“Doctors will help you, Dallon, if that’s what it comes to. You’re too stubborn sometimes.” He shook his head like a parent scolding their child and Dallon felt infantilized, somehow, when he thought about it. He knew all of this. He’d heard it all before. So why did Ryan feel the need to reiterate?

“I don’t know.” He said quietly, for lack of better response.

Ryan clucked his tongue; he knew Dallon took some work before he gave in. Dallon knew that he knew, too. Neither of them ever mentioned it, though, it was just the way the cycle worked. “I think Brendon has good intentions.” He added, and Dallon guessed that was true. “And reporting you is helping you. Maybe he didn’t do it on purpose, but someone had to before you seriously hurt yourself, Dal. How many suicide attempts or self-harms is it gonna take for you to realize that this isn’t a way to live? You’re not fixing anything. You’re not handling anything. You’re just trying to lie to cover your tracks.”

Dallon looked after him with furrowed eyebrows and Ryan didn’t even look apologetic when he stared right back at him. “You’re so brutal.” Dallon accused, feeling confronted.

“I’m telling you what every single person who cares about you is thinking. I know you don’t have the guts to hate me so I’m not afraid to tell it like it is.” He reached out to poke Dallon in the stomach, making him pull away but look up to hear him out. “Look. All I’ve wanted for the past four years is for you to be okay, Dallon. I know that’s what Brendon wants too. And if what he said was true and you’re still self-harming, then he had every right to tell somebody he trusts. It gets so lonely being a support system sometimes. And that isn’t just your fault, but it’s a fact. It’s hard to hold in all the things you do that we aren’t allowed to tell. So he had every right to tell her. And you don’t have the right to get mad because I really believe with all of me that Brendon was trying to help.”

“I just wish I never burdened him with my problems.” Dallon admitted, and he felt this sense of defeat deep down as he pushed his hands through his hair. He burdened him. That was ultimately what was hurting them. It was his fault. He was making Brendon do the things he did to help.

“You can’t be in a secure relationship unless you’re honest.” Ryan reminded him thoughtfully. Tried to make him feel better because there wasn’t anything he could do now, retract all of his confessions, erase Brendon’s memory and the pieces of Dallon that plagued it. Start from the beginning and see how well things went from there. He couldn’t, so he had to believe with all of him that it wasn’t as bad as he thought it was.

“Do you think I’m naive, Ryan?” Dallon asked, the words aching in his throat as they made their way out. “Thinking that Brendon and I are forever?”

“Sometimes.” Ryan admitted, and Dallon wasn’t quite sure why he asked when he knew he’d tell him the truth. “I think that you’re a hopeful person. A hopeless romantic. And he is too, and you both have a lot of love in you. So much so that you realized it fit perfectly with each other. I think that you’re so convinced that this is forever that either it’s going to crash and burn or you’re going to prove yourselves right. I honestly can’t tell which.”

“Me neither.” He agreed, looking at his fingers and picturing Brendon’s. The way they fit with his. “I just... I love loving him.” He sighed, and an imaginary hand held his as he let his mind daydream again. “My love for him is all consuming. It’s captivating. And I want him to love me back so, so bad. It is all I want. The thing is, I think I’m painfully aware of the likelihood of us not lasting. It’s like there’s always this impending feeling of this won’t last forever. But I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it. And I think that even if he’s going to end up breaking my heart then I need to let him. That’s the point of falling in love, I think. Getting your heart broken too. I’m just still trying to figure out if it’s worth it, trying to deal with the heartbreak too. If the long run will be better.”

“There’s no way to tell until you’re looking back on your life, though.” Ryan figured, it was simple as that. “But I think that no matter what happens, you’ll look back on him and smile.”

Dallon was quiet for a second as he stared out at the playset in the playground, at the orange slides and a field where animals roamed if you were lucky. Nothing was out tonight. It was silent.

“He kills me sometimes.” Dallon sighed in lieu of a response, and at that Ryan laughed. “Seriously, Ryan. He kills me. But that’s what I love about him. He cares enough to drive me crazy.”

“He really does care.” Ryan agreed, at this point knew better than anyone, and Dallon forgot how often they talked. That they were becoming real friends. That thought was starting to become jarring. “I’m not gonna tell you how to live your life, Dal. God knows I’ve done that enough times. But I am gonna give you my two cents, because I know that’s what you need.” He pat Dallon’s thigh with finality and Dallon looked at him, anticipating words he didn’t want to hear. “You care about him so much. I know you do. So stop letting him in and then shoving him out when he tries to make things better. You have a good thing. Don’t fucking ruin it.”

“I’m trying not to. I just— I’m allowed to be mad. He had no right to tell my counselor.”

“I agree, Dallon, but this isn’t about that. This is about you manipulating him. You can’t burn yourself in front of someone and talk about wanting to kill yourself and do all of the things that you do and then just expect him to do nothing. You’re fucking lucky he cares enough about you to try and get you help. You’re lucky he cares at all. So don’t cry for help and then push him away when he responds. Brendon Urie is a saint. One day he’s gonna realize he doesn’t deserve it and dump your ass for someone who will take his love and appreciate it.”

Ryan got up, dusting off his jeans like he’d been sitting in dirt, and Dallon stared after him. “Sometimes I feel like you just shoot me and then let me bleed out. Emotionally, that is.” He said blatantly, and Ryan shrugged.

“It makes you feel something. Come on, I’m cold and tired and I’m sick of talking about this. You fucked up. Fix it, Dallon.” He started toward the street and Dallon didn’t move at first, just watched him, wondering why no one else would ever just say that to his face. Ryan turned around and called, “Are you coming?”

“Yeah.” He agreed, nodding, and pushed himself up to stand. The world spun around him, and his sneakers were soft against the grass as he followed Ryan up the street, back toward home.

He knew he was naive. Not everything lasted forever. Especially not the best things. But he could work at it. Try to make it last. He was so scared that it would end that he was trying too hard to avoid that. It just wasn’t a way to live anymore. He needed to fix it. Or at least he needed to try.

* * *

The diner was busy on Friday after school, as it usually was. People liked to get lunch before the weekend, they always had good specials, Dallon got it. Brendon was handing a man a glass of Sprite as Dallon pushed through the front door, looking around only for a second before he found him behind the counter, where he usually was.

A couple sat down at the counter so Brendon pulled out a few menus, smiling at them in greeting and sliding one to them each. He looked up suddenly to see Dallon staring at him, saying nothing, just staring, and Brendon stopped smiling. Stared back at him, not expecting him there. He thought he needed space.

“Can we talk?”

Brendon looked away and then back at him with caution, sliding the menus back in their rightful spots. “I thought we were fighting.” He said slowly, worried though he didn’t know what for.

“Cease fire. Weapons down.” He put his hands up in surrender. “I just want to talk. Can we talk?”

“Yeah.” Brendon agreed right away, going to pull off his apron and shouting into the back that he was taking his break.

He gestured for Dallon to follow him and they headed up to his room together, Dallon silent behind him as he tried to think of what to say to apologize. Brendon obviously nervous because he had trained himself to expect the worst.

Brendon closed the door behind them, looking down and away from Dallon. “If you’re gonna break up with me, can you do it quick? I don’t wanna take too much time for my break or my parents will make me clean up longer tonight and I’m really tired, and-“

“I’m not breaking up with you. I’m apologizing.” Dallon corrected him, and Brendon stopped, his eyes softening when he realized. “Can I?”

“Sure.” Brendon agreed, deciding he’d hear him out, and gestured to his bed, so they both sat down.”

“Okay.” Dallon huffed, looking down at his knees where he rested his hands. He’d planned this. Tried to make every word sound sane. “I need to feel in control of my own life. And I need to feel like I can safely reach out when I need to without fear of judgment or feeling like something is being forced out of me. And I know that this isn’t good, Brendon, okay? I know it doesn’t make anything better. I know it’s not safe and that you have a valid reason for wanting to get me help. But I— I need to be able to get that help myself. I need to confide in my therapist and talk about it in my own safe space and I need to trust that my boyfriend loves and respects me enough to respect my decision.”

Brendon nodded, trying to absorb the explanation. Take it to heart. Realize that it wasn’t his fault at all. “I do, and I get that, but... it’s hard when your decision involves you hurting yourself.”

“I know.” Dallon assured him, taking Brendon’s hand in both of his own and holding it tightly between his thighs. Brendon stilled, unsure of the touch, but let him make amends. He never did anything ingenuinely. “I know. And I know that you have good intentions, and I appreciate that you care enough to worry. But you don’t have to. The truth is, schools aren’t good at working with the students to find something that actually helps them in situations like mine. They tried and failed to help me a few times before.” Brendon looked up at him doubtfully, and Dallon promised, “I mean it, Bren. Everyone in my life who needs to know knows what I do. My mom and my therapist and my doctors know. And it’s not easy for me to accept help but I’m trying really hard. I want you to believe in me. I want you to trust that I’m doing what I can and I don’t need you trying to help.”

“Okay.” Brendon nodded, and tried to promise himself he wouldn’t keep intervening where he wasn’t needed. It was just so hard to tell what was right and wrong these days. “But can we make a deal? Can you promise me that you won’t yell at me when I make dumb mistakes? Cause I’m really good at that, making mistakes, and I’m new to this and I just wanna help you. For you. Not for me.”

“Yeah. It’s a deal.” He released Brendon’s hand to hook their pinkies, sealing it with a kiss on the hand. “I’m sorry I yelled. I try to control my anger more with you but I can’t always help it.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I overstepped. I really didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t. It’s alright. You did the right thing. C’mere.” He sighed from deep in his chest and pulled Brendon into a hug. Brendon let him, hugging him felt so safe, and he melted into his touch as he always did as he wrapped his arms around him too. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I was frustrated and scared and I just don’t know what to do with that sometimes. I’m trying to balance this. Being good to me and being good to you. Sometimes that clashes.”

“I know.” Brendon pulled away reluctantly. He didn’t want it to have to become a thing, this whole conversation. The maybe we aren’t good together conversation. It had been on his mind for days. It was starting to feel natural to wonder. “We clash a lot, Dallon. I’m scared that’s becoming a problem.”

“I know. And I’m scared you’re starting to see me as something to fix.” Dallon admitted, hesitance clear in his voice, and Brendon was taken aback. He shouldn’t have been. He’d seen it coming, hadn’t he? They were both good at making mistakes with each other. Brendon tried to solve problems. Dallon created a lot of them for fun. It was what artists did. “I’m scared that after what I told you, you realized that I’m irreparable. Like you’re gonna pity me, or you’re gonna walk on eggshells around me, and see me as fragile, and I know how that is, Brendon. Everyone is always so sympathetic and sorry for me and I know you know what that’s like too. I can’t do that. I can’t be pitied.”

“Hey, I don’t pity you, Dallon. I never pitied you.” He refuted, defending himself from the accusation. It was a low blow. He didn’t pity anybody. Didn’t have the energy to pity. Especially not someone like Dallon. “I’m just worried about you. Everything I do is because I care about you. Me telling Ms. Kenny wasn’t because I was trying to fix you or because I feel bad for you. It’s because I love you and I want you to be happy. Because I want a future with you. I want you in my life for a really long time. So I’m sorry, but if you’re hurting yourself then I need to do everything in my power to help you.”

“I know it’s coming from a place of love. It just... makes me think, y’know?” He squirmed, like the very idea of thinking unsettled him. “That you won’t want to be with me the more I tell you about my past.”

“Dallon.” Brendon sighed, shaking his head no, turning his body to face him. “Dallon, from the day I met you I tried so hard to get to know you. That’s not because I need a project. It’s not because I need something to fix. It’s because I saw something in you that I didn’t ever see in anyone else. You got me. And maybe we’re just... trying too hard. Maybe we’re taking everything too seriously. I mean, you want to fix me too. Isn’t that why we’re here? We deal with each other’s problems. We help each other. I don’t see that as a bad thing. Maybe you do, but I think it makes us strong. That we can build each other up.”

“It’s just the way we’re going about it, Brendon.” He explained, talking with his hands like he did when he was nervous. “I mean, we’re running circles around each other. We won’t confront these fears and we’re keeping them from each other. And it’s not a bad thing that we’re trying to confide in other people but I’m worried that that’s gonna become normal. That we don’t talk about our problems. When I confronted you it was coming from that place of being upset that you were telling somebody I needed help but not me.”

“Maybe I could have handled that better.” Brendon admitted, and shrugged in defeat. He didn’t even know what this was anymore. Whether he was taking his own side of Dallon’s. If there were sides to take. “I don’t know, Dal. I think my anxiety and your paranoia is getting to us. We promised we’d communicate more and I know we’ve been doing better at that, you know? But you need to see where I’m coming from. I’m new to this. I’m not used to self-harm. Maybe your friends are, and you are, but I’m not. I’m scared. I love you so much and the thought of losing you-“

“Baby, you aren’t going to lose me.” Dallon interrupted sadly, not having realized that was the assumption Brendon had made. He knew how he felt because he was terrified of losing Brendon too.

“You say that, but everything is a red flag, Dallon.” He said desperately, and Dallon didn’t have an argument. “You're hurting yourself as a way to cope. That’s not okay. I want to help you. It’s not wrong of me to want to help.”

“Bren, I know. I want to let you help me too.” He assured him, but it didn’t seem that way. “It’s just hard to accept that kind of help.”

“I know.” And he did. He of all people knew how difficult it was to accept help. That was why they had been in this mess for so long. “I think that we’re both putting so much weight on this relationship right now when we have so many other things to think about.”

Dallon pulled away a little, making this noise of defeat when he realized that he was right. They took this too seriously. It was just a high school relationship. What was the likelihood of survival? “Yeah, I know.” He agreed, let down by the thought of it.

“So what do we do?” Brendon asked brokenly, always looking to him for the answers.

“I don’t know.” He fell back on Brendon’s bed and Brendon followed, sighing in depletion. “I wanna let you help me. I wanna trust that you have my best interest at heart. It’s just scary to open up and stop bad habits and change something so big about you.”

“Sometimes that’s just what you have to do.” Brendon shrugged, as if he really knew better. As if any of his bad habits had been broken. “You think it was easy for me to go to therapy to stop being so scared all the time, Dallon? It wasn’t. But that’s what I had to do. Now you have to get help because that’s what you have to do to get better. Whether it’s for me or your mom or Ryan or whatever, Dallon, I don’t care. But I don’t want to be the bad guy for trying to help when you’re not making an effort.”

“I know, Bren. And I’m gonna try. I appreciate that you hold me responsible. I need you to keep pushing me to better myself.” He took his hands again, turning his head against the mattress to look at him sideways. “You make me happy. But you challenge me too. I think that’s really important.”

“Because I love you, Dallon. I’m here for you. Even when things aren’t perfect. Listen.” He sighed, overwhelmed. He wasn’t expecting to have this conversation today. “Matt told me that when you love somebody you just know. And I know. It’s not even a question. And you told me that you wanted to fall violently in love with me and I didn’t know how to fall in love but I do now. I never— I never thought I would feel this way about a person. Where I’m completely enveloped in them, and feel safe, and where nothing else in the world matters. Where I don’t care about leaving the house and seeing sunlight because the only thing that matters is you. The only thing that matters is holding your fucking hand. Being yours. And I don’t want you to ever think that that isn’t the most important thing to me.”

“I know it is.” He said honestly, searching glistening eyes.

“Which is why it is so fucking scary to think about not having you. So even if I push, or I annoy you, or I fuck up, it’s always going to be out of my best interest for you.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I’m gonna try to do better.” Dallon promised, as sincere as he could sound, and Brendon nodded in agreement. He would try too. This was a team effort. “Do you...” He nodded his head toward the door after a second, and Brendon startled, seemingly shocked that he had so quickly forgotten.

“Yes. Fuck.” He jumped up, realizing that his break was probably over by now. “Okay. I only have an hour left, if you wanna hang out. We can talk some more tonight. Try to figure some of this out.”

“Yeah. That’s a good idea. I’ll come down with you.” He sat up, reaching out for a hand and letting Brendon pull him up. Brendon started toward the door but Dallon pulled him back, making him startle once more, until Dallon took his face gently in his hands and kissed him. Brendon calmed down, he hadn’t even realized how tense he’d been, and all of a sudden he didn’t care about being late. “Hey.” He whispered, thumbing his cheek gently as Brendon searched blue irises. “I promise.”

“I do too.” Brendon enveloped him in a hug, letting his eyes fall shut. He promised. That meant something when he had vowed not to break those.

Dallon sat in the diner making small talk at the counter until Brendon’s shift was over. Brendon liked seeing him there, doing nothing but waiting for him. It just meant that he could.

When his shift end Dallon followed him upstairs like a puppy, trailing at his feet. Scared to do something wrong. At this point each couldn’t decide who had been in the wrong. Dallon shouldn’t have yelled at him. Brendon shouldn’t have done it in the first place.

“I’m gonna shower. Go hang out.” Brendon gestured to his room as he got upstairs and they parted ways, Dallon to his bedroom and himself into the bathroom. He closed the door, locked it, turned to glare at himself in the mirror. Told himself not to fuck it up this time.

The hot water burned his skin as he stepped in the shower and he let it, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. Don’t fuck it up. Don’t fuck it up. Don’t fuck it up. It was so easy to fuck it up. He scrubbed at his upper arms absently, leaving traces of strawberry body wash that dripped slowly, sliding down his skin. Don’t fuck it up. Don’t fuck it up.

Dallon was sitting cross legged on Brendon’s bed when he padded into the room, closing his door behind him for privacy. He looked up from his phone briefly but looked back down, giving him space to change into pajamas, a pair of leggings and a big sweater. “You smell good.” Dallon said as Brendon pulled his sweater on, a pink one with little hearts on it that he’d gotten from the girl’s section at some store in the mall.

“Thank you. It’s the strawberry body wash. I love that stuff.” He ran the towel through his hair. He felt awkward, making small talk when there was so much more for them to talk about. “So how are you doing? Mentally. Physically. Eating? Sleeping?” He hung his towel over the back of his desk chair and Dallon stretched out on the bed with a tired shrug as he flopped down next to him, cautious but trying not to be.

“I’ve been eating okay. I haven’t slept well, though. I’ve been worried.” Brendon frowned, and Dallon added knowingly, “I mean, not just about you. About everything. It’s okay, though. M’just a little overwhelmed.”

“I can tell.” Brendon admitted, tracing his jawline aimlessly as he sat up on his elbow beside him, daring to let himself touch him. “There are bags under your eyes. More than usual. You need to get some rest.”

“I’m okay.” He leaned in to kiss him, a distraction, mostly, but Brendon let him anyway. There was no harm. He knew that he was Brendon’s weakness, anyway.

“You can sleep here tonight. I know we aren’t in the best place but... I don’t know. It might be good to try and get back.” Brendon offered casually, though he hoped it’d be a yes. He felt terrible, like he’d broken his trust. He hated feeling like he was hurting them.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll text my mom. I think we should probably talk.”

Brendon hated those words. We should talk. They held such malice. But Dallon was smiling softly at him, and the words didn’t mean any harm either. They were just gentle. Like he wanted them to set everything at ease. It just wasn’t his job to make Brendon feel better.

“I think we probably should.” Brendon agreed against his better judgment. Talking. It couldn’t be that bad.

* * *

“I’m sorry.” Brendon whispered against his mouth, trailing his hands up Dallon’s chest as they kissed. That was how he knew how to apologize. That was how he knew he meant well. He just kissed him and kissed him and kissed him until Dallon pulled away, breath hot against Brendon’s lips.

“I’m sorry too.” He apologized, still somehow so sincere, but his lips bit at Brendon’s again and they melted back into their practiced movements.

“Brendon.” His mother called suddenly, kicking open his bedroom door, and he jerked back with a hand over his mouth. “You know my rule.”

“I know. We were just gonna talk.” He reasoned, as if she’d fall for it, though it was true. They were gonna talk. This just felt a lot easier. Less pressuring.

“This doesn’t look like talking. Door open when Dallon is here, keiki. Don’t make me take it off again.” She wagged a finger at them.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Brendon forced a smile at her. “Goodbye, mother.”

She rolled her eyes. “Goodbye, son whom I birthed and raised and house and feed and pay for.”

“I didn’t ask to be born. That was your mistake.”

“Haha.” She pointed at him sternly. “Door open. It’s nice to see you, Dallon.”

“You too.” He chimed, and Brendon glared at him, but only made him laugh as his mother disappeared from view.

“It’s like she stalks me.” He whispered, fingers tugging aimlessly at the neckline of his shirt. “Sorry about her weird rules.”

“No, it’s okay. We probably shouldn’t be doing anything anyway. We should take a minute.” He curled a finger under Brendon’s chin. Brendon leaned in like it were innate but shifted back just as quick, trying to take to heart what he said. This was all because he didn’t listen. He needed to get better that. “Let’s just talk tonight. Like, actually talk. I think we need that.”

“Yeah, I think we do.” Brendon agreed, because it hit him hard when he’d realized him. They needed to talk. Brendon needed to listen. Listening and understanding and caring were going to save them. They desperately needed that saving. “Okay. Yeah. Sure. Let’s talk. Tell me about your weekend.”

* * *

Brendon squinted as the sun leaked in through the open blinds, he must had forgotten to close them. He grunted, stretching his arms above his head and flopping onto his side. “Morning.” He huffed, peeking up at Dallon as he pulled his jeans up across the room. “What time is it?”

“Eight. I’m sorry for waking you. I didn’t wanna sneak out but it’s early and I have to go. I have volunteering and then work after and tomorrow. And a paper to finish for Monday. Start and finish, that is.”

“Okay. Don’t overwork yourself, though.” Brendon reminded him, doing that thing again, that thing where he cared too much, but he said it before he could stop himself.

“Don’t worry about me.” He replied passively.

“You’re exhausted, Dallon.” Brendon pointed out, voice stern, realizing that it went beyond his pushing, and just as well because Dallon hadn’t realized he could even see it. He tugged in the bottom of his sweatshirt, looking anywhere but Brendon’s eyes. “Seriously. Slow down. Just for a minute.”

“Stop worrying about me.” Dallon insisted, and Brendon swallowed but said nothing because he wouldn’t convince him, anyway. Dallon was stubborn. Too stubborn to listen to him. He couldn’t save him. He could only love him. He repeated it in his head like a mantra. “Alright. I gotta go. I’ll text you later, Urie, go back to sleep.” He bent down to kiss him quickly. “Bye.”

“Bye. Have a good day!” Brendon called, but his eyes lingered on his boyfriend as he disappeared from the room, blowing him a kiss.

Brendon sighed to himself as he heard footsteps down the stairs, rolling onto his back and staring up at the dinosaur holding a cake. He really had to figure out how to stop.


	58. Chapter 57: Bad Habits (Hollow)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: don't drive without your permit!!! that's stupid and illegal!!!!  
> Also, TW for eating disorder stuff in this baby

Dallon dropped his bag on the floor by the entrance, dropping his keys with it and yawning loudly without bothering to cover his mouth, as he was finally home. It had been one of those days, a work being way too long even though he was sick and should have called out kind of day, and his mother poked her head out of the kitchen when he kicked off his shoes and nudged the door shut.

“Hi, Dals. How was work?” She lured him into the kitchen and the faint and muffled scent of chicken soup made him sigh in relief as she already scooped him some.

“Boring and long, long and boring. Thanks.” He accepted the bowl and started to slide into a seat at the table. “I’m so tired. I didn't sleep at all, my nose is stuffy and my head hurts and I wanna die. Figuratively.” He scooped a spoonful of liquid into his mouth and she tried to smile, knew not to take everything so seriously. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Long. Always is. Want some water?” She went to the fridge and he nodded, so she returned with two water bottles. “Good. Stay hydrated. I hate when you’re sick. You used to get all whiny and you’d cry and you’d get in bed with us because you had lots of nightmares when you were sick. It was a thing.”

“And I always got you guys sick too.” He recalled, swirling his spoon around in the soup and barely smiling at the bittersweet remembrance.

“Yeah, you did.” She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, hair messy and in desperate need of a cleaning. Maybe the steam of the shower would be good for him. “So, how are things with you and Brendon? And his family? He hasn’t been here in a little while, and...” She trailed off, the way she did when she didn’t often know what else to say.

“Things are fine, mom.” He rolled his eyes, but knew she always worried. It was just a mom thing. “He’s been kinda busy, with his sister’s baby and studying and everything. I’ve been trying to help babysit. He’s a really good baby too, nothing like I was. He’s so quiet and chill. But Bren’s mental health has been really on and off and I don't know, we’ve been trying to talk things through and I think we’re making some sort of breakthrough. Being more honest than we were before.”

She nodded, glad to hear it, and went to get herself some soup while Dallon tapped his fingers against the mug. “Good.”

“We started having sex again.” He added blatantly, and she turned to look at him in surprise. “Last month. It’s not like it’s regular but we did it, and... he was okay. He’s been so scared to do it again, but he was okay. I’m really proud of him.”

“That’s good.” She brought her bowl to the table and wrapped an arm around him, stroking his hair down and burying her face in it because she still saw him as the little kid he was, once. The little kid he still felt like sometimes, too. “That’s really good, baby. I’m proud of him too. And you.”

“He’s been bad lately, though.” He added, clinking his spoon in the bowl before he dropped it and turned to hug her back. “He hasn’t said anything, but he seems off. He keeps making these remarks about suicide and he’s scared that because I self-harm I’m gonna kill myself but I’m not, mom, and I don’t know if he’s mad at me because I don’t know how to fix myself but it’s so hard when no one helps you.”

“Hey, Dallon. Hey.” She shushed him, holding him against her. She knew that fear too. That wondering if she was going to lose the most important person in her life. It had happened once before and she wasn’t going to let it happen again. "You can't blame him for being scared. Everybody is. And you knew that the moment you did that in front of him he would never let it go."

"I wasn't thinking." He argued, but on some level he knew it was true. He had just wanted to scare him for a second. Make him regret making him cry. He didn't want him to still be scared six months later. "I just— I haven't thought seriously about killing myself in a while. And I don't want to, and I know that I need to get better. I really want to get better. It's just hard knowing that I'm not the only one I have to worry about."

She pulled away to cup his cheek and looked into red eyes cautiously. "Have you talked to your therapist?"

"She told me that she thinks Brendon and I need to be more open with each other. Because he's never gonna trust me with what he's thinking if I don't open up with him about my past. So I told him something and I think I made it worse, and-"

"Honey." She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and he shuddered, knowing he would regret it. What Brendon didn't know couldn't hurt him. Dallon just kept fucking hurting him. "I don't think you made anything worse.” She assured, but she didn’t know his truth. How many secrets he and Brendon didn’t have anymore. “I think that it's brave to open up to him. Especially now. Especially after everything that's happened to you."

“I don’t know.” He sniffled, and she knew what that meant. He was stubborn. He didn’t want to admit to anything. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” He asked instead as she brushed her fingers through his hair, nodding without a word. “I might get you sick, though.”

“I don’t care.” She whispered, and she never had, even when he was a child wedged in between his parents, burying himself under the covers.

He looked up at her, tears on his eyelashes. He always regressed when he was sick. Felt like a child and acted like one, too.

“Brendon and I got in a fight last week.” He admitted after a second, and she brushed his cheek gently with her thumb. “He told our guidance counselor about my self-harm. He didn’t know it was taken so seriously, but... I yelled at him for reporting me.”

She raised an eyebrow and he sniffled, sensing that she was trying not to seem too shocked. “How’d he take it?” She asked instead, somewhat comfortingly.

“Not well. I think he gets scared and tries to find what to do to fix it but he can’t. I just can’t stop thinking about it. Why he feels like he needs to talk to her about it. I mean, it must be affecting him when he’s talking to his counselor about me. It’s my fault, mom. I’m doing this to him. I always do this.” More tears slid down his cheeks and he was unsure of whether it was his being sick making him more childish or not. “Why do I hurt everybody?” He asked, his voice raw with tears and honest. He didn’t know why he did that. Why he thought it was a good idea to hurt everyone around him like it was a game.

“I don’t think you hurt everybody.” She whispered, but he knew that look in her eye. The unsureness. She didn’t have to admit it. He already knew.

“I’m gonna go take a shower. I had a long day.” He told her in lieu of a response, and she only nodded, watching him go.

He closed the bathroom door behind him and undressed slowly like he were a ghost. The way he felt but never could admit to. He twisted the faucet on and hot water hit the wall before he climbed in and blocked it, wishing he could wash his guilt and sins and self-hatred away with the world on his skin.

He pressed his fingertips against his forearm and dug his nails in hard, because instead of hurting everybody it just made so much more sense to hurt himself.

* * *

Tyler’s brother answered the door when he knocked and let Brendon in, as he always did when he was home. He hadn’t let him know he was coming but he started up the stairs anyway, only knocking twice on the door before he opened it and stood in the doorway of Tyler’s room. Tyler looked up from his homework and gave Brendon this look of irritation, but not shock. Brendon was predictable. He knew that about himself.

“I’m a dick.” He announced, like it were actually news. Tyler only crossed his arms, glaring in this way that Brendon could tell wasn’t completely serious, and he added, “I am an asshole, Ty. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you and I should have listened to you and I’m sorry. You’re my best friend. Which means you have to forgive me for being dumb. Now come hug me.”

“No.” Tyler protested, but Brendon went to envelop him in a hug, climbing onto his lap like a pest and attacking him with his body until he got him to laugh. “Hey! I’m still mad at you.” He pouted, half smiling nonetheless, and Brendon fell back on his bed, leaving a leg on Tyler’s for good measure.

“I know. But let me apologize.” He begged. Tyler sighed, didn’t really want to hear him out after he had disregarded his feelings, but ended up giving in because he always did with Brendon. It was part of their dynamic. “Okay. Listen. You know how— how we used to talk about how you don’t understand being gay unless you are gay?” He asked gently, and Tyler nodded. “Being mentally ill is like that. You don’t understand it unless you have it. So when I say that Dallon gets me in a way that no one else does, it’s because I know he has depression too. And sometimes that makes us clash, but it also means that we learn how to take care of each other. So I appreciate that you care enough about me to protect me but I don’t need you to. I’m almost an adult. I’m in a serious relationship with somebody that I love. So are you. So things have changed a little bit. They’re bound to. We’re both in totally different places than we were a year and a half ago. It doesn’t mean I love you any less. It doesn’t mean you’re not my best friend, because you are. You always will be. But everything changes. I just know that I always want you in my life.”

“Baby Urie.” Tyler cooed, and Brendon smiled when he pulled him into a hug, knowing he’d give in eventually. “I love when you get sentimental.”

“So you don’t hate me?” Brendon asked hopefully, his cheek squished against Tyler’s.

“The entire point of this is that I don’t hate you, Bren, c’mon. I just want you happy.” He punched his arm, letting him pull away.

“I’m trying.” He forced a smile, but tried to make it look real. Trying. It was all he did these days. “It’s okay. Dallon and I talked. Everything’s fine. I just wanted to make sure you knew that I’m not intentionally not coming to you. It’s just that I need to hear a perspective from someone who’s sick too. You and I are a different kind of friendship. That’s not a bad thing.”

“Okay. Then it’s okay.” He nodded. Brendon had a lot to adjust to here. So did Tyler. Being sick took a toll on everybody. His plan was simply to not let it. “Thank you, tiny.”

“Thank you for caring. I know you’re just looking out for me” He hugged him again and Tyler nodded against his shoulder; he’d been looking out for Brendon since they were kids. It was probably about time he pass that job on to someone else. “I gotta go. I have work. I just wanted to talk before so I didn’t have to worry about you hating me. But we’ll talk later.”

“Yes we will. And I don’t hate you, little Urie.” He pokes his arm and Brendon got up, turning to head back to the doorway. “By the way.” He added, making him turn again. “I love you and Dallon together. I’m just protective of you.”

“I’m protective of me too, Ty. I’m not gonna let him hurt me.” He crossed his heart, but something told him that he didn’t have to keep his guard up with Dallon, anyway.

* * *

The Monday morning sun was bright when Brendon woke up, his body still tired as his alarm went off and his mother called for him to wake up. He groaned, he slept on his arm wrong, he thought, and stretched as he hit stop on his alarm and squinted at the screen to read the message left earlier that morning.

Dally: hey I’m not going to school today I’m sick and my mom wants me to sleep all day so I can’t pick you up I’m sorry but I’ll see you soon

Bumblebee: ok my dad can drive me no problem get well soon let me know if u need anything

Bumblebee: will send nudes 4 health

Dally: don’t tease me

Dally: ;)

Dally: thank you but I’m fine for now I’ll talk to you later xo

Bumblebee: ok love u

He locked his phone and climbed out of bed, trying not to worry. Dallon just did this sometimes. Got a little too tired. That was just him.

“Hi. Dallon’s sick.” Brendon greeted later that morning after his father had dropped him off, leaning against Josh’s car where his boyfriend always did and smiling cheekily when his friends turned to look at him. “I’m taking his place today. I want in. What’s the gossip?”

“Ryan’s trying to analyze his crush on Dan. He can’t decide if he wants to speak to him or not.” Josh nodded his head toward the boy by the stairs and didn't bother to censor anything because in the end it was probably easier telling Brendon than it was Dallon and anyway, it couldn't hurt.

“You don’t seem like the type to be scared of talking to someone,” Tyler added, going to pretend punch Brendon in the stomach as a hello.

“I’m normally not. With girls it’s easy. But this is more intimidating. I’ve never done this before.” Ryan leaned against Josh’s car too, nudging Brendon with his elbow and not bothering with a greeting. “You’re gay and have good taste, Bren, what do you think?”

“I don't know. I’ve never talked to him. But he’s cute, I guess. Tall.” He observed, he'd never actually really given the guy a good look, and then as a second thought asked, “I have good taste?”

“Well, you’re with Dallon, aren’t you?”

“Mhm,” Brendon folded his arms, he guessed that was true, as his gaze drifted again. Ryan looked back at the boy, not even trying to hide his staring, and Brendon added, “wait, should I be worried you said that?”

Ryan waved a dismissive hand at him. “Calm down. Dallon’s like, ten levels too pretentious for me.”

“Huh.” He half shrugged and followed Ryan’s gaze again, though he could hardly remember a time where he was pining from afar. Now was the hard part. The part where they had to understand and trust each other.

"Okay, I wanna go get a stale bagel from the cafeteria before class. Brenny bear, follow." Tyler grabbed his arm and Brendon nodded, it wasn't like he had a choice, and waved to Ryan and Josh as he let him drag him toward the stairs. "So, tiny. What's goin' on now? And need I remind you that I don't care if I'm being annoying because you've been sketchy lately, and I'm worried about you, so-"

"I'm sorry." Brendon interrupted, and Tyler stopped, turning to look at him as they headed up the front steps. "I know I've been weird and moody. And I'm sorry. I know you're trying and I know you care about me and I'm not being fair. I'm just not that good at handling things, and so if I snap at you or push you away it has nothing to do with you."

"No, Bren, I know. Don't worry." He assured him, but Brendon still felt guilty regardless. "Seriously. I know you're trying too. Don't feel bad. I just wanna make sure you're okay."

"I'm okay." He promised, just for the formality. He wasn't sure how okay he could really be right now. “Sorry we’ve been weird lately. I don’t wanna be ruining our friendship. Things just haven’t been the same lately.”

“I understand. Just let me know when you wanna talk.” He punched his upper arm and they headed down the stairs to the cafeteria.

Talking. Everyone just wanted to talk. It just seemed as though Brendon was losing interest in words.

He held on tight to the railing as he reached the last step, wondering when he started to think everything was so difficult.

* * *

Bad days were Brendon’s thing these days. Bad days were worse when his boyfriend had the flu, and when he had to miss another day of school and work, and when Brendon was alone at school and felt so unprotected. It was hard sometimes, trying to manage, trying not to overreact about certain things. It was hard, stupid hard, but it was one of those days, where he had to eat lunch in Ms. Kenny’s office because the cafeteria was too much. Where he cried in health class for no reason and had to be excused to go to the bathroom in front of the whole class, Tyler following because he was scared to go alone. Where he had his mom dismiss him during his last block because he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Brendon sat in the passenger seat of his mother’s car, poking his ice cream with a spoon aimlessly. She was getting used to picking him up and taking him out to get ice cream at that place he used to go as a child, like regression somehow made things okay for a minute. But even if it was a temporary fix, it was still a fix. That part mattered somewhat, anyway.

“You know, Dallon bites his ice cream.” He told her, taking a spoonful into his mouth.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s weird.”

“I know.” He smiled down at the cup, swirling his spoon around in it. “I really love him, though.”

“I would hope that wouldn’t change because of his weird ice cream eating habits.”

“Shut up.” He shoved her knee and laughed when she did. He liked spending time with her. It got his mind off all the bad stuff. “He’s still sick so I haven’t seen him in a couple of days. I guess he has a cold or the flu or whatever. I don’t really know. It’s kind of weird, though. Being without him after a fight. I can’t tell if we’re estranged or if it’s just because he’s sick and can’t see me.”

“Time will tell.” She figured, and he liked that when she listened to him, she didn’t make assumptions. That everything was going to be okay, because in the end it wasn’t like anyone knew that for sure. “How are you feeling?”

He shrugged, sticking his spoon in his ice cream and leaving it standing straight up. “I’m sad and I don’t know what to do about it.” He admitted in something of defeat. He’d tried. He just didn’t know how. “Like, I feel empty, and anxious, and I don’t know what for. I don’t know how to explain it. I feel gross and I don’t know why.”

“I don’t know why either.” She told him truthfully, and he wasn’t sure if it was meant to make him feel better or not. Of course she didn’t know. It was just another one of Brendon’s moods. He had always been so strange. Could never understand his own emotions or comprehend why he felt the way he did. Surely that wasn’t going to change now that it was labeled.

“I hate this. This whole depression thing.” He pulled at his spoon again and wished he could use better words to describe it. Depression. What an ugly word. An ugly reality. “I just wish I knew how exactly I’m feeling. Why I’m feeling it.”

“There doesn’t always have to be a reason.”

“With me, there does.” He turned to look at her. “I have no idea why I’m so sad. What’s wrong with me? Everything that happened... it happened months ago. I should be over it by now. I should be happier.”

“Things take time, babe.” She reminded him. He’d heard it all before. Things take time. Time heals all wounds. Time, time, time. That wasn’t reassuring. He didn’t even really know what time was. He didn’t even really understand it, either.

“Yeah.” He looked away, making a face of disdain. Time. Whatever the hell that was.

* * *

Things felt weird. It wasn’t exactly the kind of weird things usually felt, but it was stranger. More estranged, actually. Like he was being pulled different ways and didn’t really know which way to default to.

Bumblebee: I miss u

He watched his phone screen and damned technology for giving him access to this anxiety. He hated not talking constantly. It felt like suffocation. He hadn’t really felt like he was being less than choked lately, though.

Dally: you are not coming anywhere near me right now I am SO sick and I refuse to get you sick too

He wondered briefly if it was a scare tactic or maybe an excuse. Dallon had been revealed as a part time liar and anyway, Brendon wouldn’t put it past him. Taking a break after a fight was their go to now. But almost instantly he felt guilty for thinking it. His Dallon wasn’t a liar. He refused to believe he could be.

Dally: I will however accept a little video chat if you want. call me?

Brendon gnawed at his bottom lip as he did as he was told, deciding that he wasn’t much in a place where he could reject him. He would be foolish to, anyway. He would be stupid to do anything that risked hurting Dallon worse than he could hurt himself.

When you found something you loved that much, you try not to let it go. Brendon was starting to understand that more than he ever had.

Dallon was smiling this unaware smile when he picked up, bundled in a hoodie and a blanket and wearing his glasses, not bothering with contacts like he usually did. Brendon smiled back, and asked, “What did you do, babe? You have a cut on your nose. It’s all red. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’ve been blowing my nose so much that it tore up my skin. It’s very unpleasant. My mom thinks I should take the ring out but I don’t know how much that’ll do. Hi.” He tightened his blanket around himself. “I miss you, Urie. How are you doing?”

“I miss you too. I’m alright. I’ve been working on a paper so I’m kinda gross and tired but otherwise alright. How are you? How’s being sick?”

“Oh, it rocks. I threw up four times today and I can’t breathe.”

“Oh, sweet.” Brendon tried to smile and Dallon did too, reaching out blindly to grab at a tissue. “So, Josh grabbed all your homework for you. I offered to do it but he has a car and insisted that I not bug anyone to give me a ride there. Did he drop it off?” He added, just to make conversation because it felt like the last time they really talked it had been them fighting again, and if felt stupidly familiar when he thought about it. When he tried not to think about it.

“Yeah, he did. My mom grabbed it for me. I don’t really feel up for hanging out with people.” He shrugged, and almost instantly Brendon felt guilty for wondering if that included him. “I have to go back tomorrow. My mom doesn’t want me to miss even more school. I kind of just want to rest, though. It doesn’t feel like the medicine is doing much of anything.”

“I told you not to overwork yourself, Dal.” Brendon reprimanded, but didn’t mean anything by it. He just wanted him well. And Dallon tilted his head, stared at his boyfriend through a screen and sighed because he wished he had listened to him, there were so many instances where he should have listened to him, and Brendon added, “I hope you’re getting a lot of sleep.”

“I am. I’m trying. I slept all day yesterday. What about you? How have you been at school?” He changed the subject, always getting sick of talking about himself.

“Ah, okay.” Brendon shrugged, but didn’t want to tell him that he was miserable and felt so unprotected without him and that he didn’t know what he would do if they broke up. That was manipulation. He couldn’t say it. He could only wish that Dallon would read his mind. “I had lunch with Ms. Kenny cause I didn’t feel like being around all those people, and Ryan came to the library with me during health on Monday to help me with the astronomy homework. I made up the work I missed. In— in health, I mean. Cause I don’t wanna get far behind.”

“I get it.” Dallon nodded, tightening his blanket around his shoulders again, almost like he were trying to make it a part of him. “I’m sorry I’m not there. At school.”

Brendon shook his head passively. “No, it’s okay. You deserve a break. I’m okay. I’ll be okay.” He crossed his heart, though he couldn’t help but feel bad. He wasn’t okay. That was the whole thing. He just didn’t think he had to worry Dallon with all that. “I just...” He added hesitantly, against his better judgment, and almost cut himself off before Dallon raised an eyebrow. “I just hate feeling like we barely see each other anymore, is all.”

Dallon looked away, eyes lost somehow as Brendon tried to search them through a screen. Things had been different since their break. So on and off. So many instances where he thought he was okay and then realized that he had just gotten good at facades. Brendon just wanted consistency. To feel good about them. He wanted to take to heart everything Dallon said and did so not to take him for granted.

It was just that everything felt like a fight now, since September. Brendon kept fucking up and in turn Dallon did too, and he didn’t know what to do with that. Whether it was just making them stronger or more fragile.

Brendon watched his eyes avoid the camera and asked, “Are you okay?”

"I feel really guilty." Dallon admitted, and Brendon's eyes softened but he said nothing because it was valid, his feeling guilty. Brendon had felt guilty for days now, too. “Like, really guilty. I don’t know why I handled all that the way that I did. I would do the same exact thing if I were in your position. You handled it the right way.”

Brendon shook his head and could see Dallon turn to look at him on his own computer screen. “I overstepped. I shouldn’t have reported you.”

“I ask a lot of you, Brendon. Asking you to keep something like that a secret is asking a lot. Especially for someone who tries to help people as much as you do.” Dallon shook his head apologetically, but Brendon still felt terrible. It was a part of him, trying to help people. He just wasn’t very good at it whatsoever. “When Ryan and Josh found out they tried to report me too, and I went off on them too, and they’ve been putting up with my secrets for a long time. It’s not fair for me to do that to you too.”

Brendon shrugged one shoulder, unsure of whether to agree or disagree. “Well, to be fair I wouldn’t want you telling a school guidance counselor anything about me either.” He offered, giving him the benefit of the doubt. “I forget sometimes that she works at the school and isn’t actually my therapist.”

“Well, she’s legally obligated to give a shit. That’s her job. I’m not mad at her.”

Brendon looked down at his crossed ankles, tapping his finger aimlessly against his skin. This was all so messy. This situation. He wish he knew what to do about it. “No, you’re mad at me.” He said quietly, overwhelmed with that feeling of disgust in himself.

“I’m not mad at you either, Brendon.” Dallon assured him. “You did the right thing.”

“But you told her that you weren’t. Hurting yourself.” Brendon argued. “Nothing came out of this.”

“No, they’re keeping an eye on me.” Dallon chewed on his thumb nail, looking away from the camera in thought. “I know they are. They always do when they think I’m high risk. It’s like, the whole school is constantly watching me. That’s not just, like, conspiracy. That— I actually know that. Ms. Kenny told me once that my teachers know about me and they have to report any suspicious behavior. You’d think I was someone who could actually do any harm.” He rolled his eyes, and then looked back at Brendon as if he hadn’t been talking to him before. “I’m not mad at you. I know you just want me to be safe. I respect that.”

“So we’re okay?” He asked hopefully.

“We’re okay, Bren. Pinky promise.” He held his pinky up to the camera so Brendon did too, trying to smile. That meant something. A promise. He told himself every time that Dallon was going to keep it. “So. How are you? Tell me about life without me around.”

“Same old, same old. I studied for astronomy with Ryan after school today. I’m trying to get my grades up. Other than that, you’re not missing anything. Tyler throwing baby carrots at me. People giving us dirty looks. Blah blah blah. How are you? Have you been eating?”

“No.” He admitted after a hesitant pause, but after a beat and a worried look from Brendon, added, “I’m not purposely not eating. I’m just too sick to. Every time I eat I puke. It’s not pleasant.” He wiped his nose, trying to smile despite the look of worry Brendon was giving him. “I’m glad you and Ryan are studying together. And that you’re focusing on your grades. They better?” Brendon nodded wordlessly, playing with his blanket. Pretending that Dallon wasn’t so obviously changing the subject. “Good. I’m glad.”

“Yeah, me too,” Brendon agreed, tilting his lips forcibly and trying not to frown at him with worry written all over his face. Dallon watched him, though, he always seemed to know when Brendon had something to say, so he just looked at him, the bags under his eyes, the blanket around his shoulders, and told him, “take care of yourself, Dallon. Please?”

“I’m trying, Urie.” He crossed his heart and Brendon wished he believed it, but didn’t say that he didn’t. “Listen. I, uh. I’m gonna go because ironically, I need to puke. And that’s not hot. But. I will send you a video of me eating soup later so that you don’t worry.”

Brendon laughed despite the circumstances. “I love you. Feel better.”

“Thank you.” He blew him a kiss and they hung up in unison. Brendon closed his computer slowly, trying to take it to heart. Trying, because Dallon was too. That meant a lot to him.

He took a deep breath, felt it in his lungs, and prayed that this was just temporary.

* * *

Dallon looked exhausted the next morning and Brendon found his routine anxiety, approaching him quickly after climbing out of his father’s car. Dallon looked up at him and didn’t bother smiling, but reached a hand out to greet him as a formality.

“Hi. Are you feeling better?” Brendon asked when he’d reached him, resting a hand on his arm. Dallon shook his head after a second, and Brendon noticed then that he was leaning against the car like he desperately needed the support. Hesitant, Brendon added, “I think you should go home, Dal.”

“No, I missed too much. I’ll be fine. I’ll nap in the nurse’s office during study hall.” He promised him, but Brendon worried nonetheless.

He tapped his pen against his desk aimlessly, staring unseeingly at the board as Dallon sat with his head in his hands beside him. He hated health class. There was something about talking about the human body that he really hated lately.

"We're talking about date rape drugs today and the dangers they can do." His health teacher announced as if on cue, and almost like it were innate a few of his peers looked over at him for a reaction. He felt hot all over when his hand shot up, still unused to the attention after all this time.

She turned to look at him, pointing with her marker, and he asked, "Can I be excused?"

She looked reluctant but nodded, and he grabbed his backpack from the floor without meeting anybody's eyes. "Sure, Brendon."

He slung his bag over his shoulders and as he headed out the door, he could hear somebody snicker and say, "He already knows all about those." He squeezed his eyes shut, speeding up his pace down the hall, and took off toward the first staircase he could find.

His chest felt tight as he headed upstairs, tears in his eyes. He hated that he felt this way. That even after all this time, thinking about drugs in any regard made him feel sick to his stomach. That he heard the words and everything just came back. He didn’t want to do this. Think about this anymore. He just didn’t know how not to.

Dally: are you okay?

Tears blurred his vision as he stared down at his phone screen, knowing full well that Dallon was going to be the one to ask.

Bumblebee: I'm just gonna go to the library to work on my stats homework I don't wanna be there right now

Dally: do you want me to come sit with you

Bumblebee: I kind of just wanna be alone right now if that's alright

Dally: that's okay my phone's on if you need me just text me

Bumblebee: I will

His stomach burned and he felt like he was going to puke as he walked down the hallway, eyes glued to the end of it. He slipped into the library without checking in and went to find his favorite table in the back, isolated from the rest of them despite the library not being very busy at this time of day.

He was going to be known as the idiot that got drugged at a party for the rest of his life. A Boulder City High School legend, but not in the way he’d wished.

He put his head down on the table and hid like he wished he could do for the rest of his life. He wanted to get over it. Wanted to stop feeling sick at the thought of it. He didn’t want it to be his default. The only thing about him. The only thing he thought about. He was already partway there. He just didn’t want it to become etched into him forever.

Something so visceral in his body told him that it already had.

* * *

The dinosaur holding a cake stared back at him as brown eyes fixated too hard on the ceiling. Whether it was because he was trying to talk to God or just too tired to care, he was unsure, but he stared and stared and stared until he felt like he was going to be sick again.

Bumblebee: can’t sleep. u up?

Dally: yep

Dally: can’t sleep either

Bumblebee: come get me?

Dally: sure. what’s the plan?

Brendon sat up in bed, realizing that he didn’t even really know. He just needed to get out of the house. Get some fresh air. That would be good for him. He texted Dallon back and got up to grab a hoodie and his glasses.

Half an hour later they ended up on the other side of town. Dallon rolled through the drive through and Brendon recited his order, smiling suggestively when Dallon gave him an incredulous look because really, Brendon was just so funny sometimes. He rolled his eyes but ordered anyway, let Brendon pay for it because more than half of the food was his, and the lights inside were fluorescent but the place was vacant when they went to park in one of two dozen empty spaces with a bag of food in between them.

“Hell yes.” Brendon cheered as he unpeeled his burger from its wrapping and took a huge bite, leaving ketchup all over his face like a child.

“You know, it’s like, almost midnight. If you eat too much your stomach will hurt.” Dallon observed, not judging, as he picked a fry out of his side of the bag.

“Sometimes you just gotta eat too much, Dally.” Brendon reasoned, his mouth half full because this late at night he forgot his manners.

“Yeah, I agree.” He dug into the bag and Brendon shrugged, realizing that maybe it wasn’t the best conversation to have as of late. “I’m not judging. I just think it’s cute.”

“I’m glad my eating habits are admirable to you.” Brendon said, poking at his hand in the bag when he went to get a fry. He always tried to appreciate this, Dallon’s being supportive even when he wanted to binge fast food at midnight, because there weren’t a lot of boys that would be supportive like that. Brendon just lost sight of it every once in a while. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little.” Dallon shrugged too, not one for small talk so late at night. Brendon could concede, though he was only really up to small talk these days. He was too tired for anything else. “Are you?”

And it meant more, they both knew it did, because Dallon always awkwardly danced around asking him if he was still feeling bad after being so on and off, never having been proficient at comforting anybody. Brendon shook his head, picking at the bun, and set it down on the paper again when Dallon turned his body toward him.

“No. Fuck.” Brendon laughed, picking at a fry and leaning back against the seat. “I’m so tired.”

Dallon looked between he and the building, the illuminated sign above windows that hadn’t dulled yet though the night was coming to an end. “You made me bring you to Burger King at eleven p.m. on a school night.”

“Not that kind of tired.” He reasoned, and Dallon kind of figured. “I just. I feel sick all the time. Like I have this constant feeling of something being wrong. Like he’s gonna come out of nowhere and scare me again. And I know it’s crazy, it is, because after you do something like that to someone and get in trouble for it you don’t come back. But I can’t help but think that something else is gonna go wrong, because that’s what happens to me, Dallon. Things go wrong. Everything goes wrong. And I thought things would be different with you, you know? That you would fix that, somehow. And I guess that’s not how it works, I know that now, that you can’t expect people to fix you. I just wish I wasn’t wrong about everything. All the fucking time.”

“I don’t know if it’s being wrong, Brendon.” Dallon reasoned while Brendon attacked his food again. “I honestly just think it’s learning your lessons. We all do it. And I expected you to fix me too, for a while. I think it’s naive to think someone can solve all your problems. I’ve thought that about everyone my whole life.” Brendon leaned his head against the seat again when he looked at him. “But I think everyone has to be a little naive when they’re learning. Or else they won’t be able to learn. You know?”

“I know.” Brendon agreed quietly, trying to take it to heart. He couldn’t keep thinking the world was going to turn things around for him. He had to do that himself. He nodded slowly, trying to let it sink in, into his veins, so that the next time he bled that was a lesson, too. “I’m just scared.”

“I know you are.” Dallon said, and there didn’t need to be any other explanation. He just knew. Brendon tilted his head to observe him, and Dallon began wrapping his food, only having taken a few bites.

“Dallon.” He said, and it was astounding how a single word could say so many more.

“I’m just nauseous. That’s all. Here.” He handed Brendon the wrapped-up burger and Brendon was hesitant when he took it. “Just. Being sick. My stomach has been my enemy this week. Not... like, anything else. It’s...” He stopped. Shook his head. Tried to find his train of thought when he lost it, but swallowed instead, putting a hand on his chest to feel his own heart.

“Hey.” Brendon sat up in his seat, confused and alert now, when he realized something was wrong. “Are you okay?”

“My heart is beating really fast.” He breathed out, staring ahead unseeingly at the vacant parking lot. He looked like a ghost. Pale and tired and hollow, almost. “And I’m— I’m really dizzy.”

“Are you okay?” He repeated, not knowing what else to ask. He wasn’t okay. He didn’t know what kind of idiotic question that was.

“I don’t— no. I don’t know.” He sputtered, his hand still on his chest and his eyes unfocused.

Brendon panicked. “Okay, we need to get you home. This was stupid.” He looked him over, paranoid, as he placed a hand on his arm to steady him. He shouldn’t have made him get up. He didn’t understand why he kept doing this to him. “Do you think you can drive?”

“I don’t think so. No.” He shook his head weakly and looked like he was going to puke. “No. Can you— do you know how to drive?”

“Not well.” Brendon admitted like it were some secret, and felt guilty for his fear because he couldn’t help. “I mean, I know the gist of it, and I’ve practiced a few times with my family, but I was always too scared, I don’t even have my permit-“

“You’ll be okay.” Dallon interrupted, and Brendon looked at him in shock. “I don’t wanna drive like this right now. You— I trust you.”

“I don’t trust me!” He retorted, obviously frightened and still in a panic.

“Brendon.” He had tears in his eyes and his hands were trembling a little, trying to steady themselves but failing. “If you don’t want to it’s okay, but-“

“No, don’t cry, Dal. I’ll try.” He got out of the car without another word, visibly anxious, and Dallon only watched until Brendon rounded it and waited for him to climb out of the driver’s seat. He did, letting Brendon help him, and Brendon watched him get into the passenger seat.

He didn’t really see what other choice he had.

They weren’t far from Dallon’s. It was just driving up the parkway and trying not to kill them or get arrested.

He went through the motions like his mother had explained to him when they were in the car together, trying to get him to learn to drive despite his being terrified to. He knew vaguely what he was doing. He just didn’t want to be held responsible if he hurt them both.

Dallon squirmed in the passenger seat and rested his head on the seat, folding his arms and trying to get comfortable. His eyes blinked slowly like he were trying to stay awake but he couldn’t. All Brendon could think of was how he’d told Dallon not to push himself and then he stepped in and pushed him, too.

After a few minutes Dallon dozed off, and Brendon was paranoid about getting them hurt so he didn’t. He drove slowly up the parkway, not much of anyone was out anyway, and he recognized the turn into Dallon’s neighborhood so he flicked the blinker and waited.

Dallon slept gently in the passenger seat and Brendon looked at him when the light turned red. He was so beautiful. So, so beautiful, as sickly as he was.

He knew the way like the back of his hand. He’d napped it out early on in their friendship. He found Dallon’s building and pulled into a spot in the lot, the first one that he could find. He needed to get him to bed. He needed to fix this.

“Hey. Dallon. Wake up.” Brendon whispered from the driver’s side, shaking his arm gently so not to startle him. Dallon stirred, making a noise of discontent, and Brendon sat back in his seat, somehow relieved though he didn’t really know why. There was something wrong. Dallon was still sick. “I got you home without getting arrested for driving without a permit or license. That was really fucking irresponsible.”

“Well, you did it. That’s what matters.” He punched his arm weakly as he began to get up, evidently disgruntled after the nap. “Thank you for doing that. Come upstairs. You can sleep on the couch. I don’t wanna get you sick, so.”

“Yeah, I get it. C’mon.” Brendon climbed out, a little buzzed after having driven down the parkway with little experience, he was surprised he hadn’t killed them. It occurred to him that maybe Dallon wouldn’t mind if he did, though he shook that thought away fast.

Dallon’s apartment was bare and cold. His mother was still fast asleep and Dallon tried to be quiet as he put down his keys and slipped off his shoes. Brendon followed, watching him not so inconspicuously, on edge and within reason. He didn’t know what was wrong but something was.

“Are you okay?” He asked again, and realized then that he sounded like a broken record but he couldn’t help but feel like this was his fault.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. Yeah. I’m gonna...” He nodded his head toward his room and Brendon nodded in agreement, feeling awkward and like they were in some sort of limbo. “Goodnight.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.” He forced a smile, but it came out like a grimace. He watched Dallon disappear down the hallway and into his room, moving slowly like a ghost. He was overtired. Overworked. Brendon couldn’t possibly be making it any easier on him.

He set his glasses on the table and found the throw blanket, his vision blurry in the dark. He didn’t know what to do. How to take care of him, because he could barely take care of himself.

He stared up at the ceiling, pulling the blanket up over his chin.

* * *

Brendon moved around the kitchen like he lived there, finding his favorite coffee in the drawer and making it in the Keurig as he picked out a mug from the cabinet. Dallon’s mother was up getting ready for work and Dallon was still asleep, though Brendon wasn’t planning on waking him anytime soon. He needed the rest.

The coffee machine filled his borrowed mug and he blew on it for a minute, reading the labels on nearby items and trying to keep his brain occupied with trivial things. The kitchen was warm, Dallon’s house always seemed to be in the mornings, and his socked feet on the kitchen tile made his footsteps silent as he went to sit at the island.

He wanted to stay home. Take care of Dallon and let him get over this cold. He just couldn’t really afford to miss more school. He looked out toward the hallway, frowning to himself, and took a sip of the hot coffee as his mind wandered. He really should be getting ready soon. He just couldn’t quite find it in him to.

He was scrolling aimlessly on his phone when the floor creaked in the hallway and caught his attention. He looked up to see Dallon running a hand through disheveled hair, somehow looking worse than he had before. “Good morning. How’d you sleep?” Brendon greeted, offering him the last sip of his coffee, but Dallon declined it.

“Scarcely.” He rubbed start his eyes, and Brendon finished his coffee before he went to set the mug down in the sink. “How’d you sleep?”

“Okay. Your couch is comfy. Do you feel better?” He turned the conversation back to him. Dallon’s eyes were distant when he shook his head, and Brendon reached out instinctively to touch his forehead, concern in his eyes when he looked over his face. “Dal, you’re on fire.”

Dallon made a noise of discontent and jerked away. “Stop. I’ll be fine. I don’t wanna miss another day.”

“Dallon.” His tone was begging and Dallon looked at him, pained, until Brendon went to loop an arm around his waist. “Come with me. C’mon.” He guided him to the couch and Dallon opened his mouth to protest but Brendon went to find his mother. Dallon was so stubborn sometimes. Brendon hated that he couldn’t change that.

He returned following Leann and she made a face of empathy when she saw her son, eyes sunken in and face flushed and pale. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s burning up.” Brendon supplied for him, and Dallon said nothing as his mother felt his forehead and examined him. “He refuses to miss school and get checked out but he basically passed out yesterday and I’m really worried.”

“Brendon-“ Dallon started to berate him, as he never intended to worry he or his mother, but she shushed him as she placed her hands on his flushed cheeks. He shut his mouth, decided it wasn’t really worth the argument again.

“You’re burning up, baby.” She observed, and at that Dallon made a face, as if insinuating that she was overreacting. “We’re taking you to the hospital.”

“No, mom. It’s not that big of a deal.” Dallon argued, but she began to pull him up anyway.

“Come on.” She urged, ignoring him, and he was too weak to argue. He just let his mother drag him to the door, Brendon trailing behind them.

Leann paced for a few minutes before she sat down next to Brendon in the waiting room as he chewed on his nails. They were freshly painted and tasted like rubbing alcohol and it stuck on his tongue even when he spit out the flakes of polish. He supposed that was what he got for sticking to bad habits.

The doctor stepped out of the room after a while of leaving them in the dark, as doctors tended to do. It was just the way of the hospital. Leaving everybody in the dark because the truth was always somehow easier for them to put off. It was just never easy for their guests. Especially not people who had learned every hallway of this place.

Dallon’s mother was distraught, too familiar with hospitals by now, as she looked expectantly for an answer. “Is he okay?” She asked as the doctor approached them, stealing the words right from Brendon’s mouth.

“He’s okay, don’t worry. He’s gonna be fine. Luckily, it’s just the flu.” She looked down at her sheet of paper, observing her notes on him. Dallon was like a doctor’s dream. Always something wrong. “However, he’s severely dehydrated and malnourished. We’re giving him an IV right now to replenish his nutrients but you definitely need to keep an eye on him. By the looks of it, he’s barely been eating or drinking. You can go see him, if you’d like. He slept for a little while, but he’s awake again.”

“Okay. Can I get him something to drink? Some water?” The doctor nodded, so Dallon’s mom went to find something to give him, excusing herself from Brendon for a moment.

Without another word the doctor headed toward the hallway but Brendon stopped her against his better judgment, because at this point it felt so impossible. He didn’t know who else to ask. “Hi. Sorry. Do you, uh. Do you know if he’s... like, purposely not eating?”

“There’s really no way to tell without asking him.” She told him, and after a beat added skeptically, “Why? Is there something we should know?”

He shook his head, maybe a little too quick. “No. I’m just an overprotective boyfriend. Wanna make sure he’s okay.” He forced a smile for good measure and Dallon’s mother returned with a cup of water for her son. The doctor disappeared before Brendon could thank her, though she didn’t much help with anything. It was fine. He could do things himself. Find everything out on his own. He’d been getting used to that more and more lately.

“Can I have a minute with him first?” Brendon asked gently, looking between the door and the woman whose son was behind it.

She nodded, and Brendon figured it was best to get the lecture from him before his mother. “Try and knock some sense into him, would you?”

“Oh, I’m gonna.” He agreed, despite knowing that he probably never would, and slipped into Dallon’s hospital room where he was watching the IV drip slowly with boredom clear on his face. “Hey, sunshine.” Brendon greeted quietly from the doorway, and blue eyes flickered up at him, tired and sickly and dull. He looked terrible. Brendon wished he had listened when he said to rest.

“Hey.” He half smiled, seemingly hazy like he were tired. He’d just woken up, the doctor had said. He looked it. “I hate these things.”

“It’s supposed to give you nutrients. The doctor said you’re dehydrated and malnourished.” Brendon told him gently, and Dallon said nothing, just stared back at him with guilt or apology or both in his eyes. Brendon sighed again, shook his head, and added, “Dal, you’re not taking care of yourself.”

“I’m fine, Brendon.” He insisted like a default.

“You’re in the hospital.” Brendon snapped, and Dallon looked affronted before Brendon sighed again, took his hand, told himself that he would be the asshole if he yelled at a guy in a hospital bed. “Dallon.” He started over. “You’re in the hospital. You basically passed out yesterday and you’re dehydrated. You overworked yourself. You stressed yourself out. Please.”

“There’s not much I can do now. I’m here, aren’t I?” He gestured to the little room, with its white walls and blinds over the window. It seemed like a prison. Hospital rooms always did.

“You haven’t been eating, have you?” He asked instead of a response, the accusation underneath the layer of concern in his tone.

Dallon looked away from his eyes. “I can’t keep anything down.” He said blatantly, an excuse or a lie or what, Brendon didn’t know. Didn’t know if he wanted to know, either.

“Dallon.” Brendon pleaded, desperate, and he didn’t know what else to do anymore. If it was even possible for him to do anything. Dallon made it apparent that he wouldn’t listen. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“I’m just—“ He sniffled, and Brendon traced his veins gently, more apparent now than they had been. “I don’t know. Sick. It’s just easier not to eat. It’s too much work. It’s too much.”

“Dallon, you don’t have to do that. Starve yourself.”

“But I deserve to.” He said hastily, and when Brendon opened his mouth to ask what he meant, the doctor poked her head in.

“Sorry to interrupt. Dallon, do you feel up to lunch? I know hospital food isn’t really appetizing, but-“

“I don’t think I can keep anything down right now.” He interrupted, faking apology, but they both knew the score. He wasn’t sorry. He was telling Brendon that he wasn’t going to listen. “Thank you, though.”

“Okay. I’ll check in again in about an hour.” She smiled and he tried to back, only waiting until she was gone again to drop it. He didn’t like smiling sometimes. Brendon had observed that somewhere along the line.

Without dancing around it, Dallon looked to Brendon and said, “I think I should rest.”

His chest felt tight with confrontation and anxiety. “Dallon.” He said pleadingly. He wouldn’t force him. He wouldn’t push him. He just wanted to stay.

“Please, Brendon. I want to be alone.” He looked away, trying to tug at his IV but giving up midway when he realized there was no use. “Please.”

“Okay.” Brendon gave up and stood slowly, waiting as if he’d change his mind. But Dallon was silent, trying not to make it a bigger deal than it had to be. Brendon tried to tell him what to do. Dallon didn’t like to be told what to do. It was simple. The anatomy of them just wasn’t.

He didn’t say anything more as he stepped out of the hospital room, closing the door behind him, but there were tears blurring his vision when he headed back down the hallway.

* * *

Brendon knocked on the doorframe of the familiar room, hands shaking a bit though he didn’t know why. He guessed everything just kind of felt like the end, with them. Every time he slipped up, every time they had some disagreement. He found himself constantly worried that something would be the final straw.

Dallon was under the covers and he looked up, startled at the visitor. He’d been in bed trying to get better, his mother had said when she let Brendon in. Within reason, because he still looked sick. Less sick, since he’d gotten home, but sick nonetheless.

“What are you doing here?” Dallon asked, and Brendon couldn’t detect any malice or worry in his voice, just curiosity.

“Your mom let me in.” Brendon shrugged, holding up a tupperware container. “When I was sick you brought me soup so, y’know. Here.”

“Oh.” Dallon let himself laugh, accepting the container and setting it down on the side table as Brendon sat down on the edge of his bed. “You didn’t have to do that. That’s so sweet.”

“It’s nothing.” Brendon bumped his fist against Dallon’s knee, hidden under his duvet. “So, uh. I actually wanted to say something. About the other day.”

Dallon raised an eyebrow but nodded, followed his gaze as he made himself comfortable. “Mhm.”

“What did you mean when you said you deserved to starve yourself?” He asked the forbidden question. And somehow Dallon knew that Brendon would ask, because he was sick of dancing around it. Brendon Urie liked to get his answers, even if that meant asking uncomfortable questions. Dallon used to love that about him. Now it was more jarring than it had been.

“I just—“ He squirmed uncomfortably, seemingly caught. He was. Brendon didn’t like to let him off easy, and Dallon knew that. It was why he’d been trying for days to string together his words just right to explain what this meant. “I feel like maybe... hurting myself is a way to apologize for being bad. Like I need to hurt myself the way I hurt others.” He admitted calculatedly, and then again he didn’t even really know why he did what he did.

Dallon just learned how to be self-destructive and did it because he felt like he had to. It made so much sense, but still none at all.

Brendon sighed, head spinning. He couldn’t believe he thought that. That he deserved any of this. “No, baby. You didn’t. Everyone’s forgiven you. We want you healthy. Please. You need to get help, Dallon. Please. Please.” He begged, and couldn’t help but notice the look of guilt on Dallon’s face. He hated making him feel guilty. It was just the only thing that worked. “Really. I love you. I want you to be okay.” He added, as if trying to soften to blow.

“I’m gonna be.” Dallon promised, but Brendon had trouble believing it. He couldn’t blame himself. Dallon was so self-destructive that it was cruel to trick yourself into thinking he was always telling the truth. “I’m sorry I scared you.” He added reluctantly after a second, already riddled with guilt. He scared him. He knew that. He’d been trying to come up with a good apology for that but morning seemed to suffice.

“It’s okay.” Brendon said gently, as if cradling him from himself.

“No, it’s not. This is what I’m talking about. I scared you. I hurt people. I need to hurt me too. To make up for it, y’know?”

Brendon tsked, taking his hand as he tried to sit up. “No, Dallon. Not everything is an eye for an eye. Not everything’s that balanced. Come on.”

“But it should be. It should be an equilibrium. Not me hurting you and then never getting anything back. It’s karma. I’m just doing it to myself so I’m not unsuspecting.”

“I don’t believe in karma.” Brendon admitted. Dallon only took a deep breath, not saying that he did, but it was obvious. He thought the world was getting him back for everything he did. He may as well help it. “I don’t think that you deserve bad things because of the things you’ve done. I think that you’re a good person who’s made mistakes, just like the rest of us. You don’t deserve to hurt yourself. It’s not fair to you. So please. For me. For you. Please.”

Dallon watched his eyes, glistening brown, as they begged him. Brendon was never one to beg. But still Dallon was skeptical, because abandoning everything he’d conditioned himself to do was hard. He didn’t think he could. That meant change. That meant taking care of himself. He didn’t know how to do that.

“I think we both need to try and work on getting better.” Brendon added quietly, but the guilt in Dallon’s eyes was strong. Tangible. He knew he hurt him. Brendon knew he hurt Dallon, too. It was just a matter of whether or not they were ready to stop hurting each other.

“I think you’re right.” Dallon agreed after a second, and Brendon’s chest felt a little bit lighter when he said it. It was a step. Admitting it was a step. That was all he could hope for.

“I’m gonna let you rest.” He got up, but not before he planted a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll talk to you soon. Eat that soup. Feel better.” He squeezed his shoulder and turned to go, ready to leave it at that.

“Hey, Brendon?” Dallon added after a second, and Brendon turned to look at him from the doorway. “I wanna do better.”

Brendon found it in him to smile. “You will.” He promised, and hoped he could believe it.


	59. Chapter 58: Are You There, God? It's Me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW FOR THIS ONE!!!!!! Don't say I didn't warn you :)  
> Anyway have fun crying

Dallon knocked quietly on the door in front of him and waited for a voice to call him in. When it did he turned the doorknob slowly, hesitantly, but with conviction. He had a reason to be here. He was sick of lying.

“Dallon.” Ms. Kenny greeted, not hiding her surprise. “What are you doing here? We don’t have an appointment.”

“I wanted to talk to you. Is now a good time?” He asked, knowing that it was because he’d asked the secretary. He stepped into the room to insinuate that even if it wasn’t he’d stay regardless, he really needed to get this off his chest, but to his relief she nodded and gestured for him to sit.

“Of course, Dallon. What’s going on?” She leaned forward against her desk, directing her attention toward him.

“Brendon told you that I self-harm. I spoke to him about it.” He started hesitantly, twisting his ring as he tried to remember what he had planned to say. “And I know he doesn’t understand the consequences of things like that. I know he doesn’t exactly get what all of this is yet. He’s new to mental illness. He’s new to me. So I don’t blame him for being concerned.”

An eyebrow went up slowly, like she knew they were treading on dangerous water. “What do you mean by that, Dallon?”

What did he mean? What did he mean? He had spent all night playing it in his head. Trying to decide what to say that wouldn’t get him into the hospital again. There were so many words he knew how to say and no permutations for how he knew how to say them. “Um, he was right. He wasn’t just being overprotective. I lied to you. I burned myself in front of him a few months ago and since then we’ve been sort of open in talking about it. I hurt him, and I keep hurting him, and I know that if I keep lying about this then I’m never gonna stop. And I wanna get better. So I’m telling you that Brendon was right. I self-harm. What he didn’t tell you is that my mother knows, and I’m in therapy trying to get help. I appreciate your concern, and I know you have my best interest at heart, but my family and I are handling it and right now I’m doing alright with that. I’ve had depression for years. So if it’s getting bad, then I’m able to find the resources I need to get help.”

She stared at him for a second, sitting back in her seat. “Okay.” She accepted, and Dallon let out a breath, relieved; he hadn’t known how this would turn out. “Okay, Dallon. Fine. As long as you’re handling it accordingly. I will be talking to your mother, though. And we’re still gonna have to keep an eye on you here.”

“That’s okay. But can I just say one more thing?” He asked and she nodded, looking up from where she had begun to write a sticky note. “I’m mentally ill. Which is a really complicated thing to understand if you’re not. And I don’t know your life, and I don’t want to make assumptions, but I do want to explain that just because I’m sick doesn’t mean I’m seconds away from killing myself every day. It doesn’t mean I’m dangerous or need to be watched. I will have good days and I will have really bad days. So I don’t want people to jump to conclusions about me. I don’t want to constantly feel on edge about whether I’m looking too depressed or not.”

“Okay, Dallon.” She nodded, and he was surprised she wasn’t fighting back. She’d seen how bad he got. Talking back to teachers and not turning in assignments and snapping at his friends. She knew, but he wasn’t that person anymore. He knew better now. “Okay. I understand. I don’t want you to feel smothered. I just want to make sure that you’re okay.”

“I’m okay. I swear.” He crossed his heart, because at the time it was true. He was fine. He wasn’t going to hurt himself if he didn’t have a reason to.

“Okay." She stuck the sticky note on her computer, to call his mother and discuss, and then turned to look at him as he started to get up. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”

“You’re welcome. I’m gonna get to lunch.” He nodded his head toward the door and she nodded, saying goodbye and letting him go. He shut the door behind himself, breathing out unsteadily, he had been anxious about it for days, and started down the hall. Telling the truth. It was so much harder to do that than he’d remembered.

* * *

Three months prior, the doctors had switched Brendon Urie to Lorazepam, as they had told him it would help with his anxiety. And maybe that was true, that he was less anxious, but now he was tired, and sad, and worthless, and hurt. So they didn’t do a very good job, and he just wanted to know when this was all going to be over. He felt so back and forth. He felt like he couldn’t fit his moods into a box anymore because they were all over the place. That was the worst part. He didn’t even know who he was anymore.

He didn’t know if he wanted to try to find it, either.

He was nestled in the corner of the couch with a blanket around his shoulders in the dark when his mother poked her head in, checking to make sure he was alone before she went to sit beside him. He’d been watching a DreamWorks marathon on TV, he hadn’t seen those movies in years, after having told his friends he needed an evening to himself. Being around them got overwhelming sometimes.

“Hi, keiki.” She greeted quietly, and he would have been frustrated at the interruption if he had the capacity to be. He paused the movie, knew she wanted to talk, and moved his popcorn when she sat.

“What’s up?” He asked, because something had to be up. She didn’t go around interrupting important midnight movie marathons unless something was up.

“I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been up thinking about you. I wanted to come tell you that I love you.” She started quietly, and he wasn’t expecting that. He was expecting some lecture about how he needed to go to therapy, or how he shouldn't be up watching movies so late, or how he couldn’t let his grades slip, or that he was strong and independent and could do anything he set his mind to. Not that he was loved. He didn’t feel like he deserved that these days.

“Oh. I love you too.” He replied dumbly, not knowing what else to say. What did he say to that? He was a burden. He inconvenienced everyone around him. He’d be better off dead. No one needed to waste their time loving him.

“And I wanted to tell you that I’m glad you’re my son. And I’m sorry that so much has happened to you, especially in the past few months. I know it’s not easy. It must be frustrating for you.

He looked down at his lap, at his favorite fuzzy blanket. Running his fingers over the warm material, he nodded, and she watched his every move like he were about to pull out a knife from under the cushion and slit his own throat. But no, that wouldn’t do. He would get blood everywhere. Make a mess. He’d have to be smarter.

“Yeah, it is. I just wanna know why I’m still so messed up about it but there’s no way to tell. I feel like I always have someone or something to blame. Like last year when I was anxious every day. I thought it was just the fact that Dallon was going through a lot, and that I was stressed, but that was an excuse. I didn’t wanna admit it. And I guess I can blame what happened with Shane but I... I can’t. It’s not that simple. I’ve been this way all my life, and every time you tried to get me help, I denied it. I lied to myself for— for years.”

She reached out to thumb his cheek, and only then did he realize that he was crying. “It’s normal for you to want to pretend nothing’s wrong, Brendon. Recognizing that something is wrong is scary.”

“But I should have listened.” He insisted. “To Mason and Kara when they told me I needed therapy, to Dallon, to you. Everyone told me but I didn’t listen.”

Tears slid down his face and he felt pathetic, all of a sudden. Crying to his mom about how he couldn’t help himself. How childish of him. He didn’t even know how to take care of himself. Everyone just needed to coddle him. They’d be better off without him.

She enveloped him in a hug and he sniffled, burying his face in her shoulder. “Baby, it’s not that simple. It’s never that simple. You’ve been through too much to blame it on one thing, but you also can’t blame it on yourself. Your refusing therapy was a way to stay in control. You needed that control to get better. And you still do.”

“I’m not getting better, though. I don’t think I ever will.” He cried, because it was impossible. How could he ever get better? The world loved to torture him. God had a vendetta against him. It was a hate crime.

“C’mere.” She guided him to lay against her like he had done when he was young. He blinked his big brown eyes up at her, filled with tears but wondering, similar to how he had looked when he was born. A curious new life in a brand-new world, like how he was being introduced to a brand-new world again. Except this time, it wasn’t bright and exciting and being looked at from where he was swaddled in his mother’s arms with a whispered vow of her protection. This one was malicious. This one had ill intentions. This one was made up of heartless creatures and wolves’ teeth.

“You’re gonna get better. It seems impossible, but you will. You’re stronger than you know, Brendon, and you’re smart and you’re capable and you’ll get through this.”

“You’re only saying that cause you’re my mom. It’s your job.” He muttered as she pushed a hand through his hair, carding her fingers through the messy brown locks so carefully that he could be tricked into thinking she was trying to thread him back together. He’d end up pricked by the needle and bleeding out, anyway.

“And because I believe it.” Her voice was soft, and Brendon closed his eyes with the hope that the monsters would disappear if he did. “I loved raising you. You took time but even when you were held back you did what you wanted and you did it happily. You went through the most wonderful phases.”

He curled his fingers in the fabric of her shirt and inhaled. She wore this specific perfume every day since he was young, and he didn’t know exactly what it was but it set him at ease. Reminded him of the early mornings that she got ready as he waited, watching in amusement, hoping to one day be an adult like her. He wasn’t sure he wanted that so badly anymore. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She let out a nostalgic laugh and smiled fondly, thinking back to the old days where Brendon embraced the world for all that it was worth. “There was this one point where I swore you had all the energy in the world. You would have your siblings make up songs and dances with you to perform them, we all thought you’d be a broadway star or something. You even made up little programs with your crayons. You must have been four or five.”

He half smiled sadly. He didn’t remember very well, but vague memories of him scribbling backwards letters and numbers on folded pieces of paper and prancing around the house like it were his stage came to mind in a blur. “I don’t have that energy anymore, huh?”

She found it in her to smile too. “No. But it was fun, you know? You would dance around in your pajamas when you got ready for school, and we’d stay up late on weekends so you could catch fireflies in the park, and you laughed at everything, all the time. You wanted to grow up but I wanted you to stay that little forever. And I don’t know what happened, if it was some psychological shift, but one day you just... changed. You were scared of everything.”

“I know. I just... I don’t remember why. I think about it all the time and for the life of me I can’t remember.” He admitted; he didn’t know how many days and nights he had spent lying awake at night trying to wrack his brain for reasons. What had it been? Why couldn’t he remember?

“I would tuck you in and turn on your nightlight cause you were too scared to sleep without it. But in the middle of the night you’d get into bed with your dad and I, and I held you and prayed that you would be okay. I prayed that no one or nothing would ever break your heart.”

“How’s that working out?” He opened his eyes to see her looking down at him solemnly, an undetectable look on her face. Worry? Nostalgia? Maybe. She was reminiscing and he was here, someone they both hoped he would never be.

“I knew things would change eventually. Kids always get older and change. I mean, look at you. You’re gonna be eighteen. You have a boyfriend and you’re starting a new chapter in your life soon and I... I guess I just wished that you wouldn’t grow up.”

“If it’s any consolation, I wish I hadn’t grown up either.” He admitted softly, and in that moment he really meant it. He wished he could stay the dancing, firefly catching boy he was forever. But nothing was forever, not a fleeting moment of happiness or his visceral sadness, though that felt so untrue to the point of disgust. It wasn’t going to last forever. He just didn’t believe that when it had for so long.

“I miss you.” She whispered suddenly, a truth in her eyes that was painful. Didn’t she know how pressuring that was?

“I’m sorry. I can’t...” He looked down at his lap. Images of himself trotting through the house in his pajamas as a child flashed through his mind. That plastic kitchen toy he and his siblings played with, set up on one side of Kyla and Kara’s room until they got too old for bunk beds and Kyla had taken the other side. The way he believed in the world and the world believed in him. Where had that belief gone? “I can’t be who I used to be. Not after this. Things have changed.”

“I know. And I don’t expect you to. But I think that right now, you need to try and find a version of you that you’re okay with. I know my baby is in there.” She placed a hand over his heart to feel the faint beating of it deep in his chest, lost somewhere under flesh and bone. “You’re hurting right now, and that’s okay. But you’re going to hurt a hell of a lot more in this lifetime and I don’t want you to fall into this routine of feeling useless because you’re not. You’re capable, my boy. And I want you to take control of this feeling and get you back.”

Take control. Get himself back. Sure. He knew what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to bury the bodies of all the demons and skeletons that made him up, but revenants always had a way of creeping their way back to him. It was never as simple as the whole world made it out to be. Accommodate, they said, make yourself okay. Well, he wasn’t the only person in this dance of the dead. It was hardly fair for him to be the one in the lead when everything he did was just blind and uncoordinated.

He knew what he was supposed to do, and he still couldn’t do it.

* * *

What his mother said to him echoed through his mind a lot after that, though he tried to think of anything but. He needed control. He needed to feel like he could get himself back. There were too many things that were taking ahold of him and too many hands trying to wring his neck. It was getting harder to breathe. And he thought by now that he would be better, but still it felt like he’d been without water as he trudged through the desert, looking for something that didn’t want to be found.

As Brendon felt that the whole world was against him, he found solace in spending time with the one person who wasn’t. He sat at Dallon’s desk one afternoon, staring at his notebook and trying to figure out what his homework question was even asking. Dallon had tried to explain the concept of a normal standard curve to him. He just couldn’t retain any information these days.

He threw his head back and sighed, glaring at the ceiling like it were at fault until a knock on Dallon’s bedroom door caught his attention. Dallon looked up from his bed and Ryan slipped into the room, smiling an awkward, apologetic smile and closing the door behind him.

“Hi. Come in.” Dallon closed his notebook and pushed it to the side. “What’s going on?”

“Hi. Your mom let me in. I was dropping Jule off at her friend's place in the building. My mom won't let her take the bus alone. I figured that since I was already here, it would be weird if I didn't say hi."

"It would be weird." Dallon agreed, tapping his pen against his notebook as Ryan took a seat on the bed beside him, bumping their knees together. "We were just doing homework. You have an A in physics, right? Can you help me with this?"

"Yeah. Sure." Ryan smiled up at him and then down at his homework; Brendon never seemed to realize how much they smiled at each other.

He didn't say that he had already taken physics and had gotten an A in that class too.

Dallon would be fine without him. He knew he would.

He wondered transiently what life was like before he entered the picture. If he just got in the way because he felt like he was just in everyone’s way nowadays. He squirmed uncomfortably, he never worried about the two of them unless he was feeling particularly insecure, and as he caught Ryan’s attention Ryan sat up, looking convicted though Brendon hadn’t meant to.

He felt guilty all over again. He needed to end his own pity party. Cut the strings of the balloons and send back all the presents. It just wasn’t getting him anywhere.

"So. What’s going on with you guys?” Ryan changed the subject after a minute as Dallon scribbled in the answer. Too much, Brendon thought far too bitterly to say out loud. “How’s life? How’s Luca?”

“Life’s bad, Luca’s good.” Brendon answered innately before he realized what he’d done. Two pairs of worried eyes flickered toward him, and all of a sudden he felt like his entire mind was on display. They could tell, couldn’t they? Everything he’d told Tyler, all the violent thoughts, they could tell. They had to have. “Yeah, he’s good. I convinced Kara to paint his room something besides blue, cause blue is known to cause more anxiety. I read that somewhere. Now it’s this light green, and I thought that would look stupid but it’s actually pretty-“

“Brendon,” Ryan interrupted, making him flinch. He knew he couldn’t get away with it. He never could. He didn’t answer, didn’t know what to say, just stared until his friend asked a little invasively, “are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just. I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” He jabbed his thumb toward the door and slid off of Dallon’s bed to start toward it, desperate for an escape, but Dallon’s voice caught him before he could disappear.

“Brendon.” He called, and Brendon turned around at the strained sound of his voice. A part of their silent communication, a pair of wide blue eyes, pleading, terrified. And oh, he was scared. Scared of letting Brendon go. Temporarily or for good. Was it for good? Did he mean it? What was wrong?

He couldn’t stand those looks anymore. Like they knew something Brendon didn’t. It was too much. How could they worry about him? He didn’t deserve that. But he also didn’t deserve having everyone breathe down his neck. What did they think was gonna happen? This had to happen eventually. “I’m not gonna go hang myself in your bathroom or anything, okay? I’m just going to pee.” He said a little too hastily before he left the room in a hurry, but not before he caught the look on Dallon’s face.

He was scared. Maybe he had a reason to be.

Brendon locked himself in Dallon’s bathroom down the hall and approached the mirror slowly. God, what had he done? Everything was okay. He was hiding his feelings perfectly; he didn’t have to admit anything. His conversation with Tyler had been perfectly tucked under his belt, he could have forgotten about it, pretended it never happened. He didn’t really want to hurt himself, did he?

He turned on the faucet, onto the coldest setting, and cupped some water in his hands. He was getting too obvious. Too open, too easy, too expressive. Build his walls back up. Hide himself away. Lie, swallow the truth and spit it out where no one would find it. He splashed a handful of cold water in his face and looked over his shoulder in the mirror, at the rod holding up the curtain of the shower. No, that wouldn’t work. It wasn’t a load bearing beam.

He fled the bathroom after he’d wiped off the droplets of cold water from his face, wondering if maybe he should get the hell out of there before they had a chance to sweep him up into an interrogation. They would, too. He knew them both well.

As soon as he stepped back into Dallon’s bedroom the hushed conversation between the two stopped abruptly, and they stared at Brendon like they’d been caught red handed. Brendon wasn’t necessarily surprised; he was expecting them to talk. Just not so obviously. He kind of just expected more from them.

Feeling just a bit confrontational, Brendon asked, “Whatcha talkin’ about?”

Dallon and Ryan exchanged frantic looks, like two deer caught in his headlights. Bad deer, fraternizing in the middle of the road, knowing how easily they could get run over. Bad, bad deer. “Um.” Dallon just blinked at him, and of course. Of course.

“Right. Look, talking about me behind my back isn’t gonna make me feel any better. Just saying.” He walked over to the desk and grabbed his bag from the floor, pushing it open to shove all of his things into. Dallon sat up on the bed, alarmed, but Brendon beat him to it. “I have to go, I’m babysitting and I should probably be at Kara’s soon.”

“Brendon,” Dallon’s tone was still pleading, but it was getting hard to breathe and Brendon needed some air. He was feeling too suffocated. He walked over to his boyfriend and placed a hand on his cheek, pressing a kiss to the other.

“I’m going. It’s okay. I’ll see you guys later.” He turned toward Ryan, watching him guiltily with big brown eyes, and back at Dallon because it was too hard not to avoid them. "Don't worry. You don't have to whisper. Have fun talking about me."

He turned to head out and felt guilty immediately; he shouldn’t have been so rude. As he slipped out of the room he tried to make up for it with a wave, but they both looked put off, upset, and Dallon looked a little betrayed too, if Brendon held eye contact long enough to notice. He knew it was bad if not even Dallon was on his good side.

Stupid. He was so stupid.

He let himself out of Dallon’s apartment, eager to get outside. There was a nip in the air and it felt nice on his skin, he had his sweatshirt stuffed in his backpack but had no plan to get it out. Instead, he pulled out his bus card and inhaled heavily to take in the fresh scent of the Nevada air. He could learn to appreciate the world, if he really tried. Sure, if he tried. But he had a bus to catch.

He sat silently in the seat closest to the front of the bus when his phone buzzed in his front pocket. He had been watching the scenery that passed on the way from Dallon’s to Kara’s, mountains across the parkway, resting his forehead against the glass and wondering if Dallon and Ryan would ever forgive him because how could he treat them like that? No wonder God chose him to give depression to. He deserved it. He fumbled with pulling his phone out of his pocket for a minute before he checked the message.

Dally: you’re not like, totally pissed at me, are you? because we weren’t talking bad about you, we’re just concerned and we want to help. we didn’t mean any harm and we didn’t want to offend you

Brendon let out a sigh, looking up and away from his phone. Maybe it was uncalled for. He'd apologize in person the next time he saw them. He was projecting. It was simple displacement. A stupid defense mechanism. Nothing was their fault— it was his— but he never could accept the blame. He would deal with it.

Bumblebee: no I’m not mad I’ve just been really frustrated with myself and I don’t know what’s going on but I didn’t mean to take it out on u guys

Bumblebee: I love u so so much and I’m sorry I just don’t know how to handle all of this and I’m scared and tired and I really don’t want u or anyone else to be mad at me because I’m trying. I know it didn’t seem like it today but that’s just me being self deprecating because it’s how I cope. u know me I just make stupid decisions and say insensitive things and I don’t think before I speak. but I didn’t mean to be mean and I’m gonna apologize in person and it’ll be a lot better I promise

Dally: it’s okay we’re both just really worried about you and it’s okay I know you’re in a bad place and if you’re having bad thoughts then I want you to trust me and come to me because you know I understand, I wouldn’t judge you. I just want you to feel okay and never ever think about hurting yourself

Bumblebee: god no I won’t hurt myself I promise I’m okay I’ve just been really bad lately but I swear if it gets worse I’ll tell u. I do trust u and I love u w all of my heart

Bumblebee: I’m sorry I left so quick please don’t take it personal sometimes I just get way too overwhelmed and I couldn’t breathe and I needed to be outside. plus I actually am babysitting so I had to leave soon anyway but it’s probably better that I left because I didn’t wanna keep being an asshole for no reason

Dally: that’s okay

Dally: please just let me know if you need me

Bumblebee: of course I will baby xo I’m about to get off the bus so I’ll talk to u later but I’m really really sorry about everything

Dally: I am too sweetheart have fun tell Luca I say hi

Bumblebee: will do

Brendon rolled his eyes, slid his phone in his pocket, didn’t bother checking if Dallon texted him again. He needed a break. He was just tired of lying to everybody.

Brendon opened the door without knocking when Kara was pacing the floor, guilty again for not being there sooner. “Hey.” He called, unzipping his hoodie and toeing off his shoes. “Sorry I’m late, the bus was slow as hell and my friends were being annoying but I’m here.”

“Hi, I was just about to call you. I’m sorry about your friends. Talk to me about it later, I wanna hear everything.” She ran over to him and kissed the top of his head. “I have to go, Bren, but thank you. I’ll pay you later. Have fun with him, he does nothing but smile and eat so he’ll be good. He might cheer you up. I’ll text you.”

“Sure. No problem. Bye, Kara.” She blew him a kiss and he forced a smile until she was gone, and then he was left with a giggling baby and silence. He crouched down and gasped, making a scene for the boy. “Hi, Luca! You and I are gonna have so much fun! You wanna play?”

The baby said nothing but Brendon smiled anyway, going to pick him up from where he was in his carrier, a blanket and stuffed animals already set out in front of him. Dallon and Ryan didn’t need to know what he was really thinking. No one did. His thoughts belonged to him. Sometimes it didn’t feel like it, though, because everyone always pried and it wasn’t their place. None of this felt like his place, either.

Brendon stood the baby on his feet and sighed. “You know, sometimes I think you’re the only one I can talk to without worrying about me. And that’s probably just because you’re a baby and don’t understand the concept of wanting to D-I-E, but still. I’m glad I have you to talk to.”

Luca babbled and grabbed at Brendon’s nose, making him scrunch it up and laugh as he shook his head and bangs fell in his eyes. He was just a baby. New and pristine and unintroduced to the world he lived in. Still an acquaintance. That was how Brendon felt, sometimes. New. Like he’d spent almost eighteen years here but somehow still didn’t know up from down.

Brendon had tried to be better. Had prayed for himself to a God he didn’t believe in and wished on stars each night that these feelings were transient. He tried to let the world know that maybe they needed each other, that he wasn’t as minuscule as he felt. But now he was done. None of it was working. He had sent his heart out, but it had been returned to sender.

He didn’t know what to do with that anymore.

* * *

The birth of his nephew really affected Brendon and the way he viewed the world. He had been dwelling for a while on things he didn’t really need to dwell on, unanswerable questions, ones he wanted to ask but didn’t know who. But a new life made him think about life itself, which, as the cycle goes, made him think about death too. And death was something that had a lot of unanswerable questions in itself.

So where did people go when they died? Because there were theories for every religion and every situation but Brendon couldn’t pinpoint which made the most sense. His parents believed in Heaven and Hell, but he wasn’t sure everything he’d been brought up with sat well with him. He wasn’t even sure he believed in God. Because if there was a God, then why would He let His children suffer? Why would there be so much pain and injustice? Why would His child be sitting there, day after day, thinking he’d rather end his life than choose to live it?

Suicide. Brendon had tried for months not to think it, but there it was anyway.

He should have seen it coming. It wasn’t like it had never crossed his mind, with someone like Dallon so close to him he had thought it once or twice. But he didn’t believe he wanted that. Or he didn’t want to believe it, anyway. He had been happy once. He didn’t want to throw himself away. But he still laid awake at night, staring at the ceiling in the dark, and as he couldn’t sleep, he went to look up stories of suicide. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but wonder how somebody could not want to live so badly that they took their own life.

Tears slipped down his cheeks with the fear of his own anatomy, plagued by the thought that he didn’t want to live anymore, either.

He had to make things right.

On Thursday morning Brendon found Dallon and Ryan to apologize, he hadn’t meant to be condescending. He hadn’t meant to bring up suicide, either. That was a plan to make for later. For now he apologized, told them he had a bad day, was in a bad place, hadn’t meant to snap, but he was feeling okay now. Sure, he was feeling okay. And they accepted the apology, and he walked away smiling in spite of himself.

They were naive because they believed it, but maybe that was a good thing.

Dallon Weekes was Brendon’s connection to the prospect of depression that didn’t live in himself or his cognizance. He’d done endless research and read pamphlets and talked about it but it was like he was stuck running in circles, trying to elucidate things he couldn’t and understand feelings that had no explanation. He could keep looking things up or taking guesses or he could ask somebody who understood in a way that after six months he still didn’t, because it was easy. He could cover his tracks and Dallon wouldn’t suspect a thing.

All his life, Brendon had tried to make sense of things by categorizing them. He intended to play with neuroticism in this world, too.

Brendon watched Dallon sketch out a diagram in his notebook, looking between his textbook and the paper every few moments to ensure he was doing it right. Brendon should have been doing his statistics homework but statistics were useless when you were tasting dirt, and his mind was busy and his hands couldn’t seem to stop moving. “Hey, Dallon?” He asked, because insensitive as it was, he needed answers. “Can I ask you something really personal?”

Dallon nodded, not bothering to look up from his homework. “Yeah, sure, anything.”

“Why did you try to kill yourself?” As soon as he asked Dallon looked up at him from where he was sitting on the ottoman across the room, an eyebrow arched high up on his forehead. Brendon panicked. This wasn’t how he wanted it to go. “Shit, sorry. I know that’s a horrible thing to ask. Don’t even answer.”

Dallon shook his head and placed his notebook down while he got up to cross the room and join him on the bed. “No, Bren, it’s okay. We’ve talked about this stuff before, your asking doesn’t bother me. It’s just really out of nowhere, why do you want to know? You’re not thinking of hurting yourself...?”

“No! I’m okay.” He reached out to put a hand on his leg for reassurance, Dallon didn’t need to know everything, and as his face faded into relief Brendon looked down at his hand as he took Dallon’s in his own. He wanted to know about the aftermath. The resolution. He wanted to know how somebody as broken as Dallon managed to prevail. Because maybe if Dallon was okay, then he could be okay, too. Maybe he didn’t have to do this. “I’ve just been thinking a lot. I guess I’m just curious. And maybe a little worried. I don't know. I kinda feel like we should talk about it. You told me a lot but not everything.”

“Oh.” Dallon reached up to push a hand through his hair pensively, and Brendon wondered if this crossed a line. “Um, I was feeling hopeless and just really lost. That’s a major part of it. I felt like nothing would ever get better, so I screamed and cried and yelled at the world until I realized that I wouldn’t get my way no matter what, my dad wasn’t gonna come back. I rebelled in all the ways that I knew how. Doing destructive things. And at one point I just got sick of being depressed and tried to end my life so I didn’t have to deal with it anymore.”

“Oh, wow.” Brendon reached out for his hand for compensation, as if it would erase his past, as if it would remind himself that he was better off alive with Dallon. “And when you, y’know, didn’t die, what did you think?”

He half smiled. “Ah, shit. I can’t do anything right.” He climbed over to sit beside him on the bed with a lopsided grin and Brendon let out an anxious laugh, still on edge. Did he know? “I was pissed that it didn’t work. I was actually mad that I couldn’t kill myself. I was so hopeless and I couldn’t do anything and I remember thinking about how stupid I was. Like, what kind of idiot can’t even kill himself? It was pathetic, but it was true. I wasn’t okay. But I got better. Got help. It doesn’t go away sometimes, that wanting everything to stop, but you learn to manage it. You really do.”

There was a hurricane in Brendon’s stomach and he couldn’t let Dallon get caught up in it. He couldn’t drag him into it. Not again. Nothing was wrong. If he said it enough, he’d start to believe it. He couldn’t be this way. He wouldn’t let himself. How could somebody like Dallon feel that way? How could anybody? Why did he? “That’s really helpful. Thank you.”

“You’re not thinking of leaving me, are you?” It was a heavy question, but Dallon asked it lightly, afraid to be asking seriously. All the signs pointed to yes. But he shook his head, tucking himself under Dallon’s arm, and he could lie if he wanted to.

“No. I was just thinking. Don’t worry.” He said it, the words came from his mouth. His mind. It sounded like him, but it sure as hell didn’t feel like him.

“Okay. It’s just that the other day, you said that thing, about life not being good. And then...” He trailed off, because they didn’t need to talk about it.

Brendon looked down at his lap, ashamed in himself for letting it slip. “Yeah, I’m still really sorry about that. I know it was really uncalled for. I’ve had a bad couple of months and I was just projecting. Not actually gonna do it, or anything.”

“Good.” Dallon linked his pinky with Brendon’s, shaking their hands together for emphasis. Brendon tried so damn hard not to cross his fingers. “Because I cannot live without you, Brendon Urie.”

Guilt crawled in his stomach and he nodded, staring at their hands and wondering if maybe he could just trick himself into thinking it would be fine. Maybe that was enough. It had to be enough. “Then that’s enough to stick around.”

He had to be right. He trusted that what he’d admitted to Tyler was just something that was said on a bad day. He trusted that his thoughts right now weren’t his own. That was what he had to believe. Dallon needed him, Tyler needed him, and his family needed him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to live, he wanted to graduate high school and live with his boyfriend and go to college. He wanted to get married and start a family and watch his children grow. He deserved it. But what he didn’t deserve was to feel like there was no way out of the persistent feeling that nothing would ever be okay again.

His mind was reeling when he made his way downstairs half past midnight, the lights in the kitchen dimmed and the rest of the house dead asleep. Matt sat at the table eating something out of a bowl, using his laptop in silence. He liked the peace, Brendon knew, because the rest of the world was too noisy. There was something about the dim lights and the quiet air that was captivating.

Matt glanced up at him when he stepped into the room, making the wood floor in the hallway creak loudly. “Hey, kid. What’s going on?”

Brendon shrugged and shook his head, sliding into a seat at the table. “Thinking too much. Can’t sleep.” He picked at the loose thread on the seam of his sweatpants. He could cut it off so it stopped bothering him, if he really wanted to, but solving problems was never his thing. “Hey. You ever, um. You ever get in a really bad place and then think that you’ll never be okay? Like, when everything is so bad and it all happens at once and then you just can’t figure out how to make things better because there’s no way to do that?”

Matt watched his face, the way his eyes fixated downward, and shook his head. Of course Brendon was alone. He always was, wasn’t he? “No, but then again we’re really different people.”

Brendon always seemed to forget that. “Yeah, I guess you’re right." He agreed, feeling uneasy. "I just don’t know what to do or how to help myself. So much is going on in my head right now and I don’t know how to make it better. I’ve just been kind of shitty to everyone, even Dallon, and it’s not anyone’s fault but mine. It’s just so fucking frustrating that I can’t figure out why I’m so moody.” He folded his arms over his chest and wiggled around in his seat, frowning to himself.

Matt closed his laptop slowly and let out a pensive sigh. “I think you just need to find a way to make sense of everything. You’ve always had a lot going on in your head; maybe it would be a good idea to get some of it out.”

“Yeah, I guess I do. I need a fucking hobby or something.” Brendon hugged his knees and buried his nose against the fabric of his sweatpants. They smelled like him, like the laundry detergent his mother used and the lingering scent of his deodorant and body wash. He was comforting in himself sometimes. Other times, not so much.

“Well, it’s life. There are available activities. Assign purpose to one,” Matt suggested, and Brendon took a second to let that sink in, deep down to his heart. He needed something to do with all this wasted energy. But then Matt half smiled, a little to himself, and added, “then again, it seems like you’ve got too much on your plate to worry about keeping up with a hobby. Maybe once you sort everything out you can get that figured out too.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Brendon sighed, pushing his chin against his knee. There was too much going on and he didn’t have time for anything else. His mind was just about at full capacity. And what else had been buzzing in his mind as of late was what he and Dallon talked about the night that Luca was born, how he had plans for them and their future. Brendon was thinking too much about the future lately, and his head was starting to hurt. Did he have one of those? Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, he added, “you know Dallon and I talked about moving in together after graduation?”

When Brendon removed his hands, he saw his brother staring back at him with an unreadable look on his face. If only Brendon had acquired the ability to climb into people’s minds and read them. Looking pensive, he asked, “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

Brendon shrugged. He honestly hadn’t put much thought into it, except that he had, and he was worried. Not about their relationship but himself. If he was even going to make it that far. “I don’t know. I mean, I love Dallon and I want to live with him. I’m not worried about us. I’m worried about... me, I guess. I’ve been a shitty boyfriend lately and what if it’s always like that? What if I’m always just in this weird limbo where I’m indifferent or mean and snappy at him? Because I went off on him the other day and I didn’t mean to, I just... it’s so hard to try and be normal when I’m not anymore.”

“Brendon.” Matt sighed, and Brendon looked up at his face, highlighted in the dark, looking daunting like he knew something Brendon didn’t. “You’re gonna be okay, man. I know me saying that means nothing to you right now but this shit is just passing. It might take a while but you can’t put your whole life on pause just because you’re scared to disappoint.”

“And what if I do disappoint? What if I move in with Dallon and we’re living together and I’m still like this? And what if I snap at him or freak out or am so depressed that I can’t get up in the morning? It’s just... we’re so unbelievably different, and he has his coping mechanisms and I have mine now, too. And they’re not good but I don’t know how to change them. What if I fuck everything up because I don’t know how not to?”

“You can’t base your life on what ifs, Brendon. Take a chance. Like I said, you’ve got a lot going on, and you can’t be so worried about theoreticals of your future. Get your shit together, figure out what’s going on, and then focus on making sure you have it all under control for whatever you do in the future, whether you live with Dal or not. But stressing about it won’t get anything to change, man.”

Matt was right: Brendon had way too much going on. About six months had passed, and his mind was still all jumbled up. Messy. He needed to dedicate some time to it. He could go through it all like a filing cabinet, discard whatever he didn’t need. He didn’t have to be this way if he didn’t want to. He could clean it all up. So he scrubbed at his skin until it was red and raw and then scrubbed at the walls of his mind until it was the same. Numb, he was numb, until he could figure out just how he wanted to approach his thoughts. He had some stuff to figure out.

The neurotic part of Brendon seemed to kick in at some point over the course of a few days. He’d begun to fit everything into a box, sizing things down to give them labels, as categorizing was all he had ever known. It had once been a tick but now it was more of a comfort, as his stress manifested itself in ways that provided a sense of control in areas where he could have it, because in his brain he couldn’t.

He thought a lot about what Matt said as he tried more or less to sort out everything in his head. Was he ready for a future with Dallon? He wasn’t even planning on having a future. Every time he thought it he just grabbed at his hair and pulled, tried to get it out of his head though he couldn’t. He couldn’t, could he? It was irrational. It was... it was stupid. It wasn’t fair. He was supposed to be happy.

So was Dallon, before Brendon found out the truth.

A year and a half ago, Brendon Urie sat beside Dallon Weekes and watched him smile, declaring that he himself would prove that not all artists were unhappy. What ever happened to that? Because Brendon was pretty damn happy and he thought Dallon was too, always smiling like he had something to smile at when all along it was all a fallacy. Learning the truth he realized that he was the happier of the two but now... things had changed.

He was never happy. He was just lying to himself. The only difference was that Dallon was diagnosed and Brendon was too scared to admit he needed help.

None of it was fair, because at least Dallon had talent. At least Dallon fit into a category, not the initial one that Brendon had put him in but a category all the same. Sad artists. No matter the genesis of his skill, despite the truth in his talents or maybe because of them, Dallon Weekes was an artist not in spite of his depression, but through it. Brendon realized this when his diagnosis brought nothing but the constancy of his enervation.

Dallon was a tortured artist. Brendon just felt tortured.

He spent Saturday night trying to sketch in his notebook before he realized that he couldn’t, he was talentless and pathetic and sad. He was just sad and he didn’t know how to transmute it into art, he didn’t know how to make something beautiful with his pain because he didn’t see the point. Art doesn’t matter when you’re not around to see it.

Brendon stared at the ceiling, letting his homework slip and missing messages because he was too tired. Kara moved out over the course of a few days so Brendon helped when he felt up to it, organizing things as her boyfriend moved the furniture in with Brendon’s brothers’ help. It was like everything was changing so fast, Kara moving out, his getting ready to leave soon too, if he didn’t keep plans he still wasn’t sure he was fully committed to, and he didn’t like the change. He didn’t want the change. But sometimes things happened, and he didn’t have control over when they did.

With Kara gone and himself in an unusually fragile state, Brendon found himself wandering around aimlessly until old habits welcomed him into open arms. He stayed in his room for a few days, missed a day of school when he woke up to a panic attack because he was so scared of what would be waiting for him: people, peers, judging him, watching him. He could feel them watching him. His mother laid with him, terrified because it was perniciously reminiscent of an old Brendon he thought was gone, but he realized if he wanted to kill that Brendon, he had to kill all the others, too.

“Bren, I don’t know what’s going on. But I don’t want you to get bad again.” His mom whispered into his hair as she hugged him tight, and he stared at the mattress, saying nothing because she wouldn’t have to worry about that.

Brendon held onto Dallon’s hand tighter as he led him into the restaurant behind their friends, finding time on Sunday morning to get breakfast to celebrate Brendon's birthday and a week long vacation. Brendon was apathetic as Dallon turned to smile at him, tried to smile back but couldn’t because he had nothing to smile about. Dallon wrapped an arm around his shoulders, leaning in close while somebody showed them to a table.

“You okay?” He whispered, and Brendon shrugged; it had been a while since he’d been okay. “You wanna go home?”

“No, it’s alright.” He promised, tilting his head up with a smile to prove it. Dallon looked between his mouth and his eyes, sighing quietly to himself because he didn’t quite believe it, but they weren’t going to start telling blatant truths now.

Brendon spaced out as he sat beside Tyler at the table, staring at the bubbles of his Diet Coke and wondering why they wanted so badly to get to the surface. Reminding him of a story of a past Dallon that died though the present one didn’t, or maybe neither of them had, because sometimes Brendon wondered if you really got rid of your demons or if they lingered by, waiting to pounce when you thought you were getting better. The longer he thought about it, the less anything in this world made sense.

He looked up to stare at the color blue when the rest of the room faded to gray. Dallon was smiling at something Ryan said, Brendon’s hearing was blurred with his tunnel vision and all he could see was Dallon. Dallon, with a face like heaven and a smile that could kill.

Brendon knew Dallon Weekes. He knew the way his hands moved intricately like they were dancing on each move they made. He knew his labyrinthine mind and the way he spoke like poetry when he didn’t even realize it. He knew that he liked his coffee with three sugars and one cup of cream, and that his favorite color was taupe, that he only liked cereal with chocolate milk and poured sugar into it anyway, that he loved documentaries even though Brendon hated them. Brendon knew how he played with his hair when he was nervous and how he twisted the ring on his finger when he was thinking.

He knew the way Dallon’s eyes had a hundred different shades of blue in them and they say that eyes are the window to the soul, but Dallon was an artist and Brendon could have sworn that artists didn’t have souls. Or maybe it was just that his soul was too deep for the average person to see. Because in that depth they pull out their creations, coping mechanisms in artistic form. A response to the world in messy paintings or neat sketches or anarchic lines on any surface they could find to do their best to fix the world through their art.

If Dallon wasn’t already spiritless then he was well on his way, because artists were never happy. Brendon was starting to think that no one was happy. Once upon a time Dallon was going to be revolutionary. But he was just the same as every other artist, and it was so beyond disappointing.

But Dallon was smiling, and Brendon wondered if maybe he was different. If maybe there was something he wasn’t seeing. Because Brendon was clueless these days but one thing he did know was that Dallon changed lives with his art. Because as Brendon realized that he was not how he saw himself but how others saw him, he had begun to try and replace his real self with the version of him in Dallon’s eye. And as he was unsure of the validity of this maxim, on the days that he didn’t want to be him, he had something to hide behind. To him he was no longer Brendon Urie: he was the boy in Dallon’s sketchbook.

Dallon Weekes loved him. Practically worshipped the ground he walked on. Drew the most beautiful versions of him despite himself and expressed his love in this way because sometimes he didn’t know how to say it. And sometimes Brendon needed to know that he could be the boy Dallon thought he was. Or at least, he could pretend to be.

Brendon laid back on his bed with his elbows propping him up as he watched Dallon sketch on the ottoman in the corner, fixated on one part of the drawing while Brendon’s eyes followed the motion of his hand, erasing and redrawing the same thing six different times but judging it too hard. Brendon said nothing, just watched, as he sought solace in seeing Dallon make a home out of Brendon’s. Like he had no idea.

Dallon had changed into sweatpants and a crewneck with cats on it because it was comfortable and it fit and he disregarded the sinuous smile Brendon wore when Dallon had showered and changed into it. Bags lingered under his eyes as his tongue poked out in between parted lips, concentrating on a sketch Brendon had yet to see.

“Hey, Dallon?” Brendon asked suddenly.

"What's up?"

Brendon’s own bold curiosity neglected a filter, it seemed, when he told himself to stop invading people’s privacy. "Would you consider yourself a tortured artist?"

Dallon closed his sketchbook over his pencil and set it down on the ottoman beside him while he lifted his eyes toward Brendon, shrugging noncommittally. "Tortured may be a bit extreme. Why do you ask?"

Brendon sat up and thumbed his bottom lip absentmindedly, not knowing how to explain because he knew it sounded crazy when he said it out loud. Of course he knew. "I don't really know. I guess I've just been thinking a lot recently. About myself, about you, about mental illness and art. How you're an artist, and what you said about why you like art last year. And I think I'm trying to put you in a box. Doesn't having a mental illness count?"

Dallon got up from the ottoman and stepped across the room toward the bed, leaving his sketchbook behind. He sat down across from Brendon and criss-crossed his legs. "Maybe. I'm not sure I'm tortured. I mean, depressed, yeah, but not tortured."

"Still plays into the whole unhappy artist thing." Brendon reached out to take Dallon's hand, warm in cold ones as Dallon was always attempting to thaw out Brendon's frigidity. "You know I thought you were going to be the first happy artist. Back before you told me about the depression and everything. All I knew about art was that no artist in history was ever happy."

Dallon tilted his head fondly. "Elaborate."

"Van Gogh, Frida Kahlo, Monet, literally every other famous artist..."

Dallon let out a laugh at his persistence and squeezed his hands. "That's fair. I get it. You’ve done your research. Smart boy.” Brendon forced a smile; he didn’t believe that. “But the thing is, Brendon, there's a link between creativity and depression. Creators are deeper thinkers, if you tend to think more you're deeper in your thoughts. Naturally, creative people tend to think more, and then they think about their thoughts. It's hard to explain, I guess, but when you get in your head you think the worst. That's where the whole tortured artist thing comes from."

"Oh, wow. That makes so much sense." Brendon leaned back when his boyfriend crawled up beside him and nuzzled underneath the blankets as Brendon pulled them up. He let his eyes slip shut when his face went straight into Brendon's shoulder. If that was the case, then he should have been on the same level of genius as Dallon. It didn’t feel fair. “Is it offensive to refer to depression as being a tortured artist?”

"I don't know.” He shrugged, and Brendon did too. “They say that deep thinkers are the most creative ones. And you, my beautiful boy, are a deep thinker. You've got creative genes, I'm tellin' ya." He poked at his shoulder.

Brendon leaned over to click his lamp off. He would miss this when he was gone. "Dallon Weekes, you sure are a charmer."

He could feel a smile against his shoulder when an arm snaked its way around his chest, making the guilt settle though he was getting used to it. "I love you, you know."

And for the past few weeks, Brendon had been thinking too much and maybe that wasn’t a good thing, because he was getting in his own head and finding it impossible to get out. But he was tired, and sick of wanting to shut his brain off, and he turned to pull Dallon into a horizontal hug, burying his face in his hair because he needed to right now. Just in case.

And for the night, Brendon wouldn’t think about mental illness, and he wouldn’t think about Dallon’s depression or his own or the inexplicability of it all, or the Tortured Artists Club or the way he was trying to figure Dallon Weekes out. Maybe he didn't know him perfectly, maybe he wouldn't ever know him perfectly, but tonight, it didn’t matter. Things weren’t going to matter soon, anyway.

He let his eyes fall shut, his pulse speeding up under his skin at the thought. He didn’t want to think about it right now. “I love you too.” He breathed, and he wasn’t going to think about it.

* * *

Brendon’s birthday fell on a Tuesday, which was unfortunate enough to make him want to block it from his mind. He was turning eighteen and all it was was a reminder to him that he had absolutely no idea was he was doing. In a couple of months he’d be graduating and hopefully moving in with Dallon, he’d be going to college and beginning a career. But as of right now, he was having a hard time letting himself think about the future, and he didn’t want to let his mind drift toward it. That was one thing that he couldn’t quite sort out.

He wandered into the kitchen lazily, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he inhaled the sweet smell of his mother’s chocolate chip pancakes. When he stepped exhaustedly toward the table, he was pulled into an unexpected hug, so sudden that it made him flinch. But his mom was singing happy birthday joyfully and he relaxed into her arms. His whole family was already around, getting breakfast and preparing for work, but they all paused to say happy birthday and give him hugs before he settled down at the table, not feeling as special as he usually did on this day.

“Happy birthday, keiki.” Brendon’s mom said, leaving a kiss on top of his head and then a hand on his shoulder once he had taken a seat. “How’d you sleep?”

“Y’know, the usual.” He shrugged, and her lips turned down at the edges. She knew what that meant, had grown to know Brendon well once he’d started opening up to her. Telling her all of his problems. Or most of them, anyway, as some he kept for himself. A lesser person would have given up on him by now. Her patience was baffling. “Kept having bad dreams. Shaking a lot. Not a great way to start off eighteen.”

“Well, hopefully your day will be better.” Matt chimed from behind him, slapping his back in a congratulations-you-made-it-to-eighteen little bro kind of way.

He wouldn’t count on it. “Yeah, maybe.” He agreed nonetheless, and turned to his mom. The food smelled delicious, and he knew eating would be a good idea. “Thank you for breakfast. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” She placed a hand on the side of his head and scratched at his hair; it was getting long again. He’d have to cut it. “So you’re going out to lunch with everyone, right?”

“Yeah. I probably won’t be too long; I’ll text you when I’m on my way home. Is Kara coming over for dinner tonight? I miss her.” He gathered a pancake onto his plate and pulled it closer to himself. She always made breakfast for birthdays. She always made breakfast anyway. Brendon would miss that too.

“Yep, she’ll be here. You don’t have to worry about a thing.” She made herself up her own plate as his family began to join them at the table, and she meant more than she’d said, sincere all the same. He didn’t believe that. He had a lot to worry about.

He felt guilty again as he prayed something would come up because he didn’t want to do this today. Sit with his friends and pretend everything was okay. Smile and thank them for the cake and laugh and talk. Just thinking about it made him want to puke.

That afternoon he sat in between Ryan and Dallon, grinning in spite of himself as his friends sang happy birthday and he blew out the candles, wishing that he didn’t have to do this. Wishing that things would get better on their own. And he ate his slice of cake, commended them for getting the perfect kind, and didn’t tell them about the anxiety in his stomach, reminding him that this was a falsity. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t a boy who smiled and laughed and ate cake without fear. He was a boy who feared too much. That was always in him and it was never going to change.

“Hey, I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” He nudged Dallon in the side, getting him to slide out of the booth to let him go. He turned to smile falsely at his friends before he disappeared, into a one-person bathroom with a lock so no one would walk in and catch him. Tears slid down his cheeks, and he leaned forward on the heels of his hands, over the sink.

All of a sudden it felt like he couldn’t breathe. Something was sitting on his chest, seeping in, dripping into the spaces between his ribs and overflowing his bloodstream. Cutting off circulation, tying varicose veins into knots. Worse than it had been in months, worse than it was back when he didn’t know what anxiety was. And now he knew, and it spilled out of his eyes with his tears, and he swallowed thickly as he looked away from the mirror because he couldn’t look at himself anymore.

He leaned forward over the sink and gasped for air when something in his chest constricted, and tears slid down his cheeks like they refused to be restrained anymore. Nothing was wrong, but everything was wrong. How was he supposed to live with this? How was he supposed to live with himself? He took a deep breath, trying to get some oxygen into his lungs, and turned on the faucet so he could splash cold water on his face. He couldn’t let them know. They couldn’t know.

He grabbed a few paper towels and wiped his face off until he didn’t look like he had been crying in a bathroom and pushed the door open. He had a new goal and it was to get out as fast and as painlessly as he can. He couldn’t be here anymore. He slid into the booth beside Dallon, didn’t bother asking him to move, and forced a smile as his heart raced. He had to get home. Home, fuck. Fuck.

Underneath the table he reached out to grab Dallon’s hand and scratched his wrist with his index fingernail. Dallon looked down at him, asking if he was sure with his eyes, and Brendon looked away, answer enough for him. Dallon placed a hand on his thigh, and they didn’t need words. Words failed too often.

“Okay.” Brendon announced, feigning an apologetic smile. “I love you guys, thank you for the cake and everything, but I have to get home.”

“It’s still so early, though!” Tyler argued, and of course he’d be the one to argue. Why wouldn’t he? He didn’t know that anything was wrong. Brendon refused to tell him. He refused to tell anyone.

“I know, but Kara is coming over with the baby and I wanna hang out with them too, and my mom wanted me home. She’s kind of obsessed with getting to spend time with me on my birthday. And she has no more children, apparently, since I’m eighteen. Or so she says.” He forced a laugh, a good coverup. Over the past half a year Brendon had gotten dangerously good at lying. To the point where it had become disturbing, actually. He could come up with any lie so fast that it might as well be a second nature. It rolled off his tongue as easily as the truth.

“Actually, I should probably get home too.” Dallon added without giving an excuse. “You want a ride home?”

Brendon nodded. “Yeah, sure.” He slid out of the booth and Dallon followed, setting a hand on the small of his back. “Sorry. I wish I could stay longer, but I have to go.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Ryan waved it off like it was no big deal and Brendon pulled him into a hug. Create no suspicion, get the hell out. Lie his way out. Lie. “Happy birthday, though. Take the rest of your cake.”

“Yeah, I will.” He pulled away and went to hug Tyler too while Dallon placed the plastic cover over the cake and picked it up, waiting until Brendon followed to head toward the door. “Bye! Love you guys!” He feigned a smile and then slid out after they exchanged goodbyes.

As soon as the door fell shut behind him he sped up his pace, desperate to get out of sight.

“You okay?” Dallon asked under his breath, digging his keys out of the pocket of his jeans and handing the small cake to Brendon.

Brendon nodded: another lie. Dallon knew it wasn’t the truth, and Brendon knew he knew, and it was a cycle of knowing the little truths that Brendon didn’t want revealed. Neither one of them mentioned it. “Thank you.” Brendon whispered as he followed Dallon to his car, holding onto his arm.

“Of course. We’re a team.” He linked his pinky with Brendon’s surreptitiously in front of their bodies where he was sure no one would see. They were skeptical, of course they were. Brendon was a good liar, not a good actor. “You’re scary good at lying.”

“I know. I freak myself out sometimes.” Brendon muttered under his breath, and it was true. He didn’t even know who he was anymore.

He slid into the passenger seat while Dallon placed the cake in the back and then smoothly slid into the driver’s seat, both painfully silent as Dallon took him home. Brendon leaned his head against the window, wondering why it was so hard to breathe, as he dug his phone out of his pocket and rolled his window down for fresh air. He felt confined. Strangled.

Brendon: I’m on my way home now

Birthgiver: so soon?

Brendon: yeah bad day really anxious and I had a panic attack or something in the bathroom but Dallon is bringing me home so don’t mention it until he’s gone ok we’ll talk about it later

Birthgiver: are you alright?

Brendon: fine just overwhelmed I’ll be home soon

Birthgiver: ok i love you baby

Brendon clicked his phone locked and dropped it in his lap as he tilted his head to the side and let his eyes slip shut. He felt so convicted. Like everything was against him. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t do anything wrong. He reached out aimlessly, with no trace of an explanation on his tongue, and only felt a few tears slide down his cheeks when he felt a hand slide into his.

Dallon carried the cake up into his house and stored it in the fridge while Brendon escaped to his room, heart pounding anxiously and skin itching. By the time Dallon reached his room Brendon was in tears, body trembling as he paced, though he didn’t know what for. Dallon shut the door behind him and Brendon turned, going to envelop him in a hug and choking on a sob.

“This isn’t fair,” Brendon cried against Dallon’s chest and Dallon guided him to his bed, laying him down gently and holding him.

Dallon shook his head, pressed his nose against the top of his head, scratched at his hair gingerly. “No, it’s not.” He agreed, resting his lips against his temple. Brendon was shivering in his arms, and Dallon went to pull up his covers as if the cold were the problem. “I’m sorry, my baby.”

Tears slid down his cheeks. “It’s not your fault.”

Dallon frowned against the top of his head and inhaled to take in the scent of his hair, his shampoo, him, and brushed his fingers through it. He didn’t know what to say. “I know. I’m still sorry.”

“I know.” Brendon sighed, heartbroken, before he rolled onto him and buried his face in his chest. Tightening his grip on Dallon’s tee shirt in his grasp, he squeaked out a quiet, dejected, “I thought I was okay.”

He wouldn’t tell him about the meltdown in the bathroom, he couldn’t, but crying in his arms on his birthday was enough. Dallon knew: he wasn’t okay. He couldn’t get out of this one. “Listen, that isn’t how it works. I told you before, sometimes you have bad days and sometimes you have really bad days, sometimes you’re fine. You aren’t always gonna have bad days, but you aren’t always gonna be fine.”

He sniffled. “I talked to Matt a few weeks ago about how much shit I have going on and he said to sort everything out. I’ve been doing that, and I’ve been feeling better, but sometimes it all comes back out of fucking nowhere. I wasn’t expecting it to happen today. I feel so pathetic. I just... I wanna be fine.”

“I know, honey. I know.” He buried his nose in his hair and let his eyes slip shut. He was here, he was here, he was here. “Do you want me to stay the night?”

Brendon shook his head, only setting Dallon back a little before he explained. “Don’t take it personal. I’d say yes, I really want you around, but I have to work really early tomorrow and I’m already gonna have enough trouble falling asleep. I don’t wanna keep you up. And I kind of want to be alone right now. Maybe next time I feel better.”

“Okay. Yeah. Whenever you want. Don’t feel obligated to do anything you don’t wanna do.” He assured him, and Brendon looked up at him, tears on his eyelashes, and prayed he knew how grateful he was. Dallon got it. He got it and he dealt with it and he somehow managed to figure Brendon out in a way that he never thought anybody could. He got under his skin and made a permanent home.

“I know that. Or, I’m getting to know that.” He met those perfect crystal blue eyes that would lend him all of their strength if they could. “Thank you. Really.”

Dallon reached up to lace a few fingers through his hair, playing with a few short strands when Brendon settled back down against him like he were the only thing keeping him upright anymore. “Of course. Don’t mention it.”

Brendon wanted to be alone. He needed to be alone. He couldn’t do what he was going to do with Dallon asleep in his bed. And he knew that it was terrible, that he’d been lying, that he was probably going to hell, but he was already a sinner. This wasn’t any worse than all the other things he’d done.

Eighteen years. He’d made it eighteen years and he was still scared to be alone. He couldn’t handle noise, or thinking, or criticism. His own demons and what he felt on his skin when he closed his eyes. Eighteen years, and he was still as pathetic as he’d ever been.

His mom knocked quietly on his door that evening as he laid in bed, staring at the dinosaur holding a cake and saying his goodbyes. He looked up, and she closed the door behind her. “Bad day?” She asked quietly. He nodded tiredly and pushed his fist against his nose with a sniffle. “What happened, Bren?”

“I don’t know. I felt fine but everything was really overwhelming and suddenly I couldn’t breathe and I had Dallon take me home. I went to the bathroom and cried but he doesn’t know about that, I— I can’t tell him. I want him to know everything that’s going on but I’m scared. I’ve been pathetic enough.”

She tilted her head to the side, sympathy clear in her gaze, and he hated that sympathy, he wouldn’t miss that sympathy, and she said, “Honey, it’s not pathetic. Recovery isn’t pathetic. You’re just trying to manage right now. He knows what you’re going through, he’s not gonna judge you.”

And maybe she had a point. Dallon understood him more than anyone else did. He had a million reasons to believe that he’d be there for him when no one else would. Brendon had just been pushing him away. Trying to keep his walls up so all of this would hurt him less. He had his reasons. He just hadn’t meant to be so doubtful of him when this was all his own fault.

“Yeah.” He wiped at his cheeks. “Yeah, you’re right. I know he won’t. I’m just scared.”

“I know, but you’ve been through a lot, Brendon. You’ve been scared of a lot. You’re gonna make it through this just fine.” She assured him, and she didn’t know, couldn’t know, and he prayed this wouldn’t hurt her as much as it would hurt him. He prayed to a God that had never answered, a God he didn’t believe in, and he nodded.

“I’m sure I will.” He agreed, and he didn’t know how to say that he wasn’t planning on making it through.

Too much was crawling around in his mind and he wished he could smoke his own thoughts out but setting a fire inside of himself hadn’t been proven effective. He just wanted it all to stop. He needed silence. He was so sick of the noise.

“Hey, mama?” He added as she lingered at the door, and she turned to look at him. “Thanks for being my mom.”

Her eyes softened, and she had no idea. He was going to miss her. “Of course, Brendon. I love you. Goodnight.” She blew him a kiss and he tried to smile. He really did. “Happy birthday.”

“I love you too.” He peeped, and she closed the door behind herself, giving him a smile that haunted.

He knew what he had to do now more than ever.

Brendon didn’t know when he’d discovered a creative outlet, but it was cathartic, in a way. As an early birthday present Dallon had given Brendon a little black journal decorated with a messy lined drawing of two silhouettes done in metallic marker on the cover, a token of his love in one way or another. He told him that it was for any purpose, to write or scribble in or to put in his desk and forget, but the gesture was more than he’d let on. It was a proposal, an invitation.

He spent the night scribbling angrily in the journal with tears pooling in his eyes. Somewhere amidst the writing and scratching of a black ink ballpoint pen on paper, he finally let himself cry. He needed to. He didn’t know what to write, he didn’t use flowery language or wax poetic or create metaphors, he just wrote word after word about how angry he was. No, he wasn’t angry: he was livid. He was fucking pissed.

He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t do anything wrong. He did all his homework and ate all his vegetables. He didn’t talk bad about anyone, at least not very often, he didn’t fight with people or cause any problems. So why him? Why did he have to be the one? Maybe it wasn’t fatal, but it sure as hell was formidable. He couldn’t do it anymore.

It was pushing two a.m. when he dropped his pen onto ink and tear-stained paper. He ended up standing bare footed in front of the bathroom sink, staring at himself in the dark. He tugged and scratched at his skin, trying to get the bad thoughts out into the world where they could materialize and liquify and evaporate, but they didn’t give, only became louder and more painful. The only light source was a streetlight outside: he hadn’t turned on the light because he couldn’t stand to see himself. He was pathetic, he was miserable, and he was done.

What if the way to stop feeling so viscerally empty and lost and sad was to stop feeling forever?

Clenching his teeth, Brendon furiously pulled open the medicine cabinet and began rooting around. He needed something, anything to make his mind stop. His vision was blurry with tears and his head was spinning, he couldn’t think straight and he couldn’t focus on anything but getting something that would make him stop. Finally, he found the little orange pill bottle, seemingly glowing in the darkness surrounding it. That was it.

Scrawled on the white label were only three words that Brendon could bother to decipher, written in small black text that stood out over everything else: Brendon B Urie, Lorazepam.

With reckless abandon he twisted the cap off and let it fall to the floor before he dumped out the entirety of the bottle into the palm of his hand. The little white pills were seemingly so bright sitting in his pale, shaking hand, brighter than Brendon could ever hope to be, but they were taunting. They reminded him of what he had become, what he hoped he would never be, what he had strayed from and what he’d fallen short of. There was no point anymore. He was told to overcome his hardships but there was nothing to overcome because it wasn’t possible. Brendon was a failure and he hated to admit that that was all he’d ever be.

If there were any time to ask for guidance...

Are you there, God? It’s me. Brendon. And I know you don’t like talking to me, and maybe it’s because I’m gay, or maybe it’s because I’m a sinner, or maybe it’s just because I’m me. But I need you right now. I really need you.

The night was silent, and he didn’t know why he was expecting anything any different.

Raising the fistful of pills to his mouth, his gaze shifted toward the mirror long enough to catch his eye under a gleam of light, reflecting from the streetlight and off the window. The color brown, like the color of the wood of he and Dallon’s future home, the boy had said one rainy day just before the school year had begun. After they’d spoken about how to push themselves out of their comfort zones. When he promised to marry him one day.

Strong and dark and caliginous, his iris circled pupils that were oversized to let in minimal light, painting them too big and too scared, underneath long eyelashes and messy eyebrows. Flawed skin, pale, cold. Tear-stained cheeks. A face full of fear.

Brendon whipped the handful of pills at himself in the mirror and fell to his knees with a sob. He couldn’t look at himself anymore. He couldn’t pretend that he was okay. All he could do was press his back against the sink and let out a muffled sob into his hand, trying not to let anyone hear.

He pulled his knees to his chest, his heart beating so hard he could hear it, and buried his face in his hands. A snotty, teary mess was left when he threw his head back against the sink to gasp for air. This wasn’t what he wanted. He just wanted to die.

Minutes of sobbing before he could collect himself and silently cleaning up tiny pills on the bathroom floor left Brendon standing alone in the kitchen with his phone in hand, staring out the window with its curtains pushed aside at the streetlights outside, his eyes unseeing. He was shivering, and not just because of the cold tile against his feet. Anxiety had made a home in his stomach, unfleeting. He didn’t know what to do.

Tugging his sweatshirt around himself tighter, he unlocked his phone and went into his contacts. Dallon would be able to help. It was only half past two and he wouldn’t care so much if it was something as dire as this. Turning to look at the entrance of the kitchen, he made sure nobody was lurking in the shadows while he clicked on his boyfriend’s name. He stared at the options for a minute, putting himself at war, but if he wanted help, he needed to reach out. That was what everyone kept saying, anyway. It all just felt in vain.

The line connected after the second ring, and the muffled sound of the TV could be heard on Dallon’s end, volume low and the content indecipherable. He blinked down at his feet and wiggled his toes, if only to remind himself that he was alive. His extremities still worked, his heart was still beating, blood was still pumping through his veins. He was alive, and he couldn’t help but be angry about it.

“Brendon.” Dallon greeted quietly, making another few tears roll down Brendon’s cheeks, staining them with moonlight. He shouldn’t be doing this.

“Dallon. Hi.” He folded one arm over his chest and sniffled absently. He kept his voice down, didn’t want to wake anybody up, but his family had a history of sleeping like the dead. All of them except for Brendon. “Were you already awake?” At Dallon’s hum of affirmation, Brendon pushed at his nose with his fist. “Why?”

He heard the sound of shifting on Dallon’s end, the fabric of a blanket crinkling. Brendon could picture him at home, blissfully unaware of what was happening just across town, or maybe scarily aware. Maybe that was why he answered. Maybe he had been worrying for a while about Brendon and he was anything but subtle, because it had all seemed so obvious now that he was standing here with hands shaking, wishing he wasn’t such a coward. Wishing he could have just swallowed the fucking pills, for Christ’s sake.

What would Dallon have done if Brendon had done it?

“I don’t know. I couldn’t sleep, my mom is in bed already, I felt like watching dumb TV.” Dallon’s response made Brendon’s lips turn up into the smallest of smiles, nominal but lingering like it had business being there, anyway. He wiped the tears off his cheek with the heel of his hand and then replaced it over his chest, taking a step back toward the window. The city was dead asleep. There was nothing to be seen or heard or felt. Brendon was completely numb.

“It’s a weeknight.” He said, with no substance to it.

“It’s vacation, I’m not busy tomorrow, I’ll live. So what about you, Urie? Why are you calling me at almost... three, Christ. You have to be up for work in four hours.” He must had checked the clock.

Brendon’s head was spinning. He didn’t want to tell him. He couldn’t tell him. He could never mention it, not to his friends or his family, not to Ms. Kenny or anybody else. It was stupid, it was a dumb moment of weakness, that was what Dallon had said when he did it. God, Dallon. Brendon hadn’t been thinking.

Dallon wasn’t somebody he should use as a role model but when you admired someone as much as he did that tended to slip your mind.

“No reason.” He choked back a few tears, and Dallon went completely silent on the other line. He muttered a feeble excuse, “I just wanted to talk.”

For a second Brendon thought that Dallon had stopped breathing. How could Brendon lie to him? He’d learned so well how to lie. This never would have happened if he wasn’t such a coward. His bones ached and his head pounded and tears burned his eyes as he looked around the kitchen. His gaze fell on the knife block for a few seconds before he turned away. What was wrong with him?

“Brendon.” Dallon lamented, and Brendon almost flinched. “I know you really well, my love. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

Apparently he couldn’t lie, but maybe that was for the best. Maybe all his lying was catching up to him after all. With another little sniffle Brendon threw his head back to look at the ceiling, because maybe God would step in now, maybe it was about time for a little divine intervention, or maybe He would keep hiding like a coward. How could he even say it? How could he admit out loud that the thought of taking his life sounded so appealing? Just last summer he was sat in the passenger seat, wondering just how bad you had to be to want to end your life. And, well, now he knew. It was funny how things worked out. So why wasn’t he laughing?

“Um, I almost killed myself. Or like, I almost tried. I don’t know.” Each word felt carved from his throat with knives. His eyes slipped shut, and he let his head fall back, gripping his neck so hard that he could leave bruises.

“What?” Dallon rushed out, voice urgent but hushed: his mother was home and in bed, probably fast asleep and unbeknownst. “What happened, Bren? You didn’t do anything, did you?”

“No. Nothing happened.” He said, almost remorseful. “I dumped my pills in my hand and almost took them all but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because I’m not strong enough. And I hate this, Dallon. I hate me, and I hate being this way, and I hate having no control anymore. I can’t sleep because every time I try, I have nightmares and wake up shaking, and I can’t do anything right, I have no energy so all I do is lay in bed and think. But I suck at that. I suck at everything. I can’t even kill myself.”

“Oh, Brendon.” Dallon sighed quietly, and just then Brendon realized that he couldn’t hear the TV in the background anymore. Everything was silent for a second, the silence seemed to stretch a million miles, one second, five seconds, ten seconds, Dallon didn’t know what to say. Brendon was so fragile. This was so delicate. “Baby. You don’t suck at everything. That’s literally the mental illness talking. It puts the invasive thoughts in your head: that isn’t you. I know it’s cliché, but you’re good at things and you’re loved by a lot of people and you’re valued. I’m not gonna try to tell you that love cures your depression, because that isn’t how it works, but it’s something to think about when you need it. It’s something that made me feel better too. People would miss you if you were gone. So don’t be gone.”

A few tears dripped off of Brendon’s cheeks and only then did he realize his tears had begun to fall. He wiped them away frantically, pathetically, worrying about everybody but himself. He didn’t need his worry when he had so much to think about. He didn’t need to scare anyone like that. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Bren. You have nothing to apologize for. You don’t have to be sorry for having a mental illness. That’s what everyone wants you to think, that it’s your fault and that it’s something you can control but it isn’t. Fuck.” He let out a breath, desperate and scared. “Listen, do you need me? I can be there in fifteen minutes if you want.”

“No, don’t come over.” Brendon insisted. “It’s late, my parents would be worried. I don’t wanna tell them. Just... stay on the phone with me tonight, okay?”

“Sure, sweetheart.” Dallon pushed himself off of the couch, and Brendon could hear the quiet footsteps squeaking across the floor. “What are you doing now?”

“Standing in the kitchen. Thinking. Crying. Fun, huh?”

Dallon let out a quiet breath and Brendon listened intently to the sound of the cabinet opening. It was the mug cabinet; Brendon could tell because of the distinct sound it made when it was opened. There was this little creak, a sound he’d gotten used to. He’d miss Dallon’s house a lot. “Go sit in the living room. If you’re not gonna sleep, then you should at least be comfortable. Get warm. It’s cold tonight.”

Brendon didn’t know how to answer so he just slipped out of the kitchen and made his way into the living room. Clicked on the electric fireplace, grabbed a blanket from the couch to sit down and curl up in front of it. Wrapping the blanket around him tight, he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Making tea.” He hummed quietly and Brendon sighed, listened to the clink of the mugs when Dallon pulled one out. “Everyone asleep?”

“Yeah.” Brendon closed his eyes slowly against the illumination of the orange flames, radiating heat and some false sense of comfort. It was temporary, everything was just so fleeting, but he just needed to feel something. He just needed to remember that he could feel. “I think I’m gonna stay home from work. I know my mom will let me. I just... I don’t feel good.” I feel like being dead, he didn’t say.

“I get it. Mental health day. If you want company, text me and I’ll be there.” Dallon said gently, leveled like he knew the gravity of the situation. Like he needed to be the quiet when everything else was so loud.

“Thank you.” Brendon wiped at his cheek with his fist, smearing tears across his face for his troubles. “Just— can I have some advice? From someone who knows how to handle depression to someone who doesn’t? Because I can’t... I can’t keep doing this. I need help.”

Brendon was shivering. Was he even cold? “Of course.” Dallon agreed, his voice coming out too quiet.

Brendon sucked in a breath, tremulous and wavering, and felt like his lungs were foreign as they didn’t want to hold any air. “How do you do it, Dallon?” He asked like it were final, a moment of truth, the real honesty in months of lying. “Because I thought I had everything figured out, but I keep falling back to step one and it’s like I can’t get out of this loop. Like I keep getting tricked into thinking I’m alright only to realize that it was— it was all fake again.” Tears slid down his cheeks again, disappointment clear in his voice. When did it end up this way? “What do I do?”

“Brendon.” He whispered, like he needed to speak his name, taste it on his tongue, feel it there to remind himself. “I think you keep trying, baby. That’s all I can say. You do what you have to, you try, you make yourself okay with it whatever way you can. I wish there was a magic trick that would make you feel better but it’s not that easy.” Dallon whispered like sharing secrets between kindred spirits. But Brendon didn’t want to share secrets. He didn’t want secrets at all. If he had learned anything, it was that secrets were just dirty truths that couldn’t bear to be spoken.

Brendon couldn’t hide his dirty truths anymore. They’d been eating at him for far too long, getting under his skin, gnawing at bone. “Dallon, I need to tell you something.” He whispered the words like they weren’t allowed to be set out to bleed alone, and a few tears dripped down his cheeks and onto his bare ankle, where he had been scratching aimlessly. It burned, the skin red and raw and God, Brendon wanted to get himself out of this body, but he couldn’t stop. He had to keep trying. That was what Dallon said, right?

“Okay.” Caution, his voice read. Do not enter. But how could Brendon keep running and hiding? He was getting so sick of it.

“I’ve been thinking about suicide for a while.” He admitted, voice breaking around a truth. “And I’ve been planning it for a week or so. Not planning it, but planning to do it, trying to tie up loose ends so I could go without leaving anything undone. It’s literally the only thing I think about. And I’ve been lying to you for a while. I told you that I wasn’t thinking of hurting myself or anything but that... that was a lie. I don’t— fuck.” Another round of tears made their debut. “I don’t wanna lie to you anymore. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I hate feeling like this and I hate living like this and sometimes I think it would just be easier if I were gone.”

And there it was, his dirty little secret, laid out for Dallon to examine, psychoanalyze, tear apart. All his life, Brendon found a way to organize, compartmentalize, construct a system where everything made sense. But this didn’t make sense. He wouldn’t be able to figure this out if it were chasing him maliciously with its claws and teeth exposed. A wolf’s heart, a boy’s bloody, broken, bruised one.

Dallon was quiet for another long second, like the world had stopped. His heart was in his throat: the truth was hard to swallow. “Oh.”

Brendon kept going, spitting out the words like they were venom on his tongue. “I haven’t been doing well. Like, at all. Everything is wrong. I feel like I’m a burden and the way everyone is treating me isn’t making the weight on my shoulders any less heavy. I fucking— I fucking tried, Dallon, I tried to make myself feel better. I really did. The problem is I don’t know how. Everyone is watching me like I’m about to break, even you look at me like I’m some glass one crack away from shattering. I don’t wanna be a damsel in distress. I don’t want what he said about me to be true. I just wanna be okay. I hate that everyone is worried about me, and I hate that I can’t fix that.”

He took a deep, heavy breath, inhaling air into his lungs and trying hard to feel it. He felt suffocated for months now and he was so tired of trying to breathe through it. He felt like every breath he took was contradiction, anyway.

“I don’t wanna kill myself because I know that it would inconvenience everyone. I feel like I’m living for everyone but myself and it’s not fucking fair. I don’t know what I want anymore, I don’t know who I want to be. And I don’t know— I don’t know if I’m okay.”

“That’s why you need to take some time to figure it out, alright?” Dallon eased, and Brendon leaned closer to the shielded flames. “Take a break. From everything, I mean. Don't let anything make you feel this way. You can't try to be something you’re not for everybody else. Don't let anything make you hurt yourself. Just don’t hurt yourself. Please. I know that’s asking a lot, but...” Dallon trailed off, voice weak, and for a second it didn’t even sound like him. The words were foreign on his tongue, like they had been lost through the phone, warped into something that Brendon couldn’t get. Like the whole world had it figured out but him, and now it was just laughing at him because he didn’t understand.

“I think I’ve just been pushing everything and everyone away for too long. I don't know how to handle bad situations so I just wanted to disappear from it. I forget sometimes that I need to confront things instead of letting them get to me.”

“I struggle with that too, sometimes.” Dallon admitted, trying to make himself smile because at least Brendon knew. At least there was that step. But the rest of him was in denial, and that was the problem. That was the part that neither of them knew how to handle. “Are you gonna be okay tonight?”

Brendon opened his eyes, watched the flames flicker in front of him. Wondered what they would feel like if he touched them, reached out to press a finger against the glass. He’d be okay. “I think I’ll be fine. Thank you for being patient with me.”

He looked down and dug his fingernails into his ankle, breaking skin, and Dallon breathed out unsteadily. Brendon was sorry he caused so much trouble. He didn’t know how to say it. “Of course.”

He was quiet another second, hesitant, as he listened to Dallon breathing. How could he let this happen? Everything just got so out of hand. He should have just done it. “Would you stay with me a little longer?”

“Yeah, baby. Anything.” Dallon promised, and he meant it, and Brendon knew he meant it. He whispered a thank you, so soft it was almost engulfed in flames.

Dallon sat quietly on the line. Brendon just needed a second of quiet. So he sat there too, holding a hand out toward the glass, and neither of them said a word.


	60. Chapter 59: Up at Heaven's Gates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW :)

Brendon was sitting alone in the living room staring at the black screen of the television until he got a text from Dallon, a simple I’m here and nothing else. And he tightened his blanket around his shoulders, getting up to buzz him in and rubbing his eyes tiredly because he hadn’t slept, he thought it had actually been days, and he knew he should be trying but he was scared that he wasn’t going to wake up and he still had some unfinished business.

But Dallon let himself in, and his showing up was something Brendon hadn’t known he needed until he felt like he could breathe again when he saw him standing there. And neither of them said anything but they both knew, and words had been so useless for Brendon. Dallon followed him upstairs, back to the bed where he had cried in his arms a day prior, and returned to that place in his mind where he had barely let himself visit. The only problem was that when he did, there was no hospitality. He didn’t know why he kept coming back.

Back during the summer when he first confessed to Dallon that he was in love with him, Dallon told the story of his depression and Brendon thought long and hard about it. It wasn’t all black and white, that was what Dallon had said about it, but still Brendon couldn’t fathom how somebody could want to take their own life. Now he was sitting cross legged across from Dallon on his bed, a blanket pulled over his shoulders as if to hide, talking about how he felt in that immediate moment that he needed to get out of his body in any way he could find. Clawing himself out didn’t work, and there was no crawl space in the cobwebbed attics.

Dallon rubbed his knee absentmindedly as Brendon relayed the events of the night prior, keeping his voice hushed so no one would hear. Dallon was enough, nobody had to know. And Brendon was messier than he ever thought he would be, pulling this boy into all of his mistakes and never giving him a way out. At this point he was starting to lose sight of the light of day.

Dallon watched him with careful blue eyes, listening intently even when his voice trembled and tears decorated his cheeks, and even when Brendon tried to push the thoughts away did they creep right back in and tap him on the shoulder. A reminder of how he was a burden. A useless boy wanted to disappear because he had no purpose. Let him.

He sat with his eyes on Dallon’s, oscillating back and forth between them. They were silent for a second, Dallon processing and Brendon waiting, until Brendon shook his head suddenly and looked down at his fingers twisting in his lap. “I just wanna know why it’s happening.”

“So find out.” Dallon reached out to place a hand on his thigh and Brendon glanced up, tears dripping off of his eyelashes. And persistence danced in his eyes, raw truth that Brendon needed to uncover if he wanted to grab that truth by the neck and confront it. “If you want your answers, you look for them.”

Brendon stared at him for what felt like a really long time and he stared back, waiting for the information to move through his mind and make itself tangible. If you want your answers, you look for them. Could it be that simple? Could the answer be right under his nose the whole time? Maybe Dallon was right, and maybe this was all in vain. Moping wouldn’t make a difference. Crying wouldn’t, either. Fuck, he almost killed himself. He almost downed a handful of pills in the middle of the night, dead by morning. He wasn’t going to get better through hope, he needed to look for answers. So where were those answers hiding?

“That’s the best fucking advice you’ve ever given me, strangely enough.” Brendon pushed himself forward to wrap an arm around him in a hug. “Thank you, Dal. I’m gonna do that. I’m gonna look for my answers. I’m gonna get better if it kills me.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t,” Dallon forced a smile, tried so hard to make things okay, and Brendon nuzzled his nose against his cheek, inhaling steadily. Something to feel when he couldn’t feel anything else. He pulled away suddenly and pressed careful lips against Dallon’s, half-hearted yet a puzzle completed, it always seemed. Things got bad again. That didn’t mean they had to stay bad.

Or so he thought.

He was leaving the kitchen with a measly bottle of water when he saw it: a photograph hanging on the wall of the hallway, framed nicely and right there for everyone to see. Brendon Urie, half a year younger and much more naive. Smiling downward shyly, a pale blush swept on his cheeks and a look of content in his soft eyes. A reminder of who he was, who he lost. And he stood against the opposite wall, there in the hallway in his socks, and he was suddenly numb.

He let himself think about what Dallon had said. He needed to get better. But it wasn’t as simple as finding the stressor and getting rid of it completely. The first thing he thought of when he lay in bed alone that night was Dallon. How he was there to watch his back, hold him up, support his weight when Brendon couldn’t. Promised to keep him safe and be there for him, keeping patient even when he though Brendon was so goddamn difficult. Being there, always.

But was that what Dallon really wanted? Was that what he needed? Brendon never thought twice about it, because suddenly he realized that he had never given Dallon a choice. It was an unfair thing to ask of him, being there constantly. Dallon must get exhausted too. And what made it worse was that Brendon couldn’t stop thinking about it. His good old friend invasive thoughts crawled into his brain after the sun had disappeared between skies of gray and a thunderstorm, all in the form of questions. Why are you doing this to him? How could you?

Dallon was sensible. He was ambitious and talented and intelligent, so charming that it was scary but he managed to spin it well. He was endearing, could turn heads and get a dozen gazes at the drop of a dime. He was the best thing that had ever happened to Brendon and he gave him his all, even when he had none of it left. Which was precisely why he needed to end things.

He had to. It was... it was all too much. Dallon had become his everything, who he relied on, had become dependent on, actually. And that wasn’t good anymore. It was fine to borrow his strength sometimes but somewhere along the line Brendon had managed to steal all of it, leaving him weak and empty and enervated, like how Brendon felt when he let himself think. The worst part was that Dallon didn’t even have a problem with how he’d been acting. He was a goddamn saint. How could he ruin a saint?

How could somebody so angelic fall for a boy who knew of nothing but malice?

Dallon was too good for him. He’d established it long ago but now he was letting it sink in, no matter how painful it was. And fuck, it was painful. He could feel it stir until it was bubbling, the nefarious effervescence making his stomach hurt and his body ache. He loved Dallon, he really did, but if you love something you have to let it go. A tale as old as time. He would hurt him. Hurt them. He would suck all of the potential out of Dallon, ruin him, make him resent him. Brendon was too good at messing things up and he didn’t want to mess Dallon up too. He needed to leave him before he could risk it. It had gone too far already.

Talking about the future, having sex like their bodies belonged to each other, letting him whisper those sweet words into his skin like they were meant only for him, like the rest of the world was blind to it all. But Brendon was the one who was blind. Couldn’t he see that he was no good for Dallon? Dallon didn’t need him. Dallon would be just fine without him. It was Brendon who would need forever to cope, but forever never lasted anyway. It would be better this way; he swore it would.

If he kept on the road to ruin, he would just be hurting Dallon in the wrong run. He couldn’t do that to him.

He climbed out of bed and pulled his hoodie on tight before he fled his room, hearing the echoes of his footsteps down the hall as he rushed down the stairs and straight to the front room, where he slid his sneakers on half-heartedly. He didn’t leave a note or anything, just ran outside into the pouring rain and started in the direction of Dallon’s apartment building. He had to do this now. He had to.

Shaking, he walked through the storm with determination and his hood up, staring straight ahead of him. It was cold and dark and the streetlights were flickering in the heavy downpour but he had to do it now. He wouldn’t stop until it was done. His heart ached, he felt weak, and his stomach welcomed his anxiety like an old friend. He crossed his arms tight over his chest and tugged his hoodie tight around him.

He was shivering when he reached Dallon’s side of town. Not a soul was out, save for a few stray cars here and there. He was sure they had slowed to watch the tiny boy stomp down the street in the middle of the rain, perhaps with concern, but eventually they moved on their way and forgot about him, just as Dallon would do. He wasn’t worth stopping for. What was he worth? A walk in a rainstorm, a cracked heart on the edge of being broken. He was irreparable.

He walked and walked no matter how badly he wanted to turn around and go home. Ten minutes, his clothes were soaked. Twenty minutes, he was shivering violently when the rain got to his skin and in his shoes and in his head. Thirty minutes, his eyes were filled with tears that he wouldn’t dare let spill. Forty minutes and he was outside Dallon’s building, sending him a message that he was downstairs with shaking fingers.

Shaking, pacing, crying, the front door to the lobby opened five minutes later and the distraught boy turned frantically. There he was, in his pajamas with his glasses on and his goddamn bedhead. There he was. Ready to get his heart broken. And one look at Brendon had his face twisting into concern. “Bren, what are you doing here? Are you insane? It’s the middle of the night and it’s pouring rain. You’re gonna get pneumonia or something. Come inside.” He gestured toward the building insistently, but Brendon didn’t budge. He stared. “Brendon?” He asked, louder this time. No reply.

He stepped further out of the doorway, out from under the awning, and he put a hand up to shield his eyes from the downpour as he took in the sight in front of him. The small, timid boy, shaking from the rain, staring at him like he wasn’t registering any of the words spoken to him. He wouldn’t let any tears fall, Dallon couldn’t see that this was going to hurt Brendon more than it would hurt himself.

“Brendon, what’s going on? You’re freaking me out.” That was a look of worry he’d seen just about a million times before.

Well, everything needed to crash and burn sometime. Nothing lasts forever.

He just thought their forever was different.

He didn’t want to do it. He couldn’t do it. How could he do this? How could he ruin eternity? How did anyone? This was irrational and unfair and— “You need to break up with me.”

The look of concern slid off of his face with the rain and left Dallon standing completely still in place like Brendon had just singlehandedly announced a nuclear war, but little did they know it would soon become one. He furrowed his eyebrows, shifted his weight, and stared at Brendon in utter confusion with an incredulous look on his face. “What?”

“You need to break up with me.” He repeated, desperate, but it wouldn’t make him understand. Dallon needed to understand why he was doing this. He didn’t want him to hurt anymore. “Because I’m fucking everything up and I can’t fuck you up too. I can’t. You’re too good for me Dallon and I’m sorry, I really am. But I can’t be who you fell in love with and I can’t be the person you need right now.”

Dallon reached up to wipe the raindrops off of his glasses, eyebrows knit together and a look of disbelief on his face. Brendon couldn’t do this. This was too much. How could he let himself make such a dangerous mistake? “Are you... are you breaking up with me right now?”

Brendon’s eyes were filled the brim with tears and the shape of Dallon’s face was clouded by the downpour. His hair was falling in his eyes, rain soaking through his clothes, and he was starting to shiver. Brendon nodded reluctantly, chest constricting, and Dallon’s features had settled into something inscrutable. He didn’t need to answer, the silence was enough. And something in his stomach dropped when Dallon shook his head.

“No.” Dallon said it with finality, but in this world there was no such thing as finality. Just when things seemed good and final, there was a twist of fate and everything broke down.

“Yes, Dallon. Fuck. I’m done. I need this to be done.” This. What a broad term. Brendon hated that term. It could mean anything, it was too vast, too broad. This. Was he talking about them or the feeling of dread that made a home in him? Both. He was talking about both. Was he? He was. He had to be. Fuck.

But Dallon wouldn’t accept it. He knew that. When he wanted something, he went after it. No one could keep him and his aspirations apart. And Brendon, well, he was just one fucked up aspiration. “No,” Dallon repeated.

Brendon squinted, using his hoodie sleeves to wipe the freezing cold raindrops from his eyes and cheeks. “No?”

“No, Brendon. We’re not breaking up. It is one thirty a.m. in the pouring rain in front of my fucking house where there are dozens of people here trying to sleep.” He gestured to the building behind him with a wild swing of his arm and a look of disgust on his face. He’d never given Brendon that look, the only time he even came close was that dreadful night in October when Brendon almost lost him. But that time, he wasn’t doing it on purpose. Now... he needed to lose him. For Dallon’s sake. But Dallon didn’t see it that way, because he placed his hands on his hips like he knew he called the shots. “You’re not breaking up with me.”

Brendon was shaking, he felt weak, but he was persistent and he had to do it. He just had to fix one thing before he could screw it up more than he already had. “Then do you wanna do the honors? Because I can’t— I can’t do this anymore.”

“No! God, Brendon, what the hell is wrong with you?! I’m not breaking up with you and you’re not breaking up with me.” He gestured sharply to prove his point, and something in Brendon’s chest flipped. God, he needed him to fight for him, needed to know that what they had was worth fighting for. But it wasn’t that easy. This wasn’t a matter of whether Dallon wanted this. This was Brendon trying to save Dallon from him.

Fuck, he needed him to understand. Dallon had to understand. “I have to, Dallon! You don’t get it! I have to!”

Brendon couldn’t tell if they were raindrops or tears on his face, but he didn’t want to know. They were too far apart and neither of them dared to close the distance, because why was Brendon trying to ruin what they had spent over a year building together? Why was he trying to make it crash and burn when its time hadn’t come yet? “Why?!” He yelled indignantly, and the sound made Brendon recoil. Dallon didn’t yell. Not until now.

“I’m scared.” Brendon admitted, throwing his hands out in defeat. “Is that what you want me to say? I’m scared, Dallon, I am so fucking scared. I don’t know how to fix myself and I just want me back but I— I can’t find my old self because he’s gone. Now I’m this different version of me and... I’m not...” He trailed off, looked down at his different laced sneakers, blinked away tears.

Something in Dallon’s eyes had dulled, but he had to know why. This wasn’t his fault; this was for his protection. This was for the best. “Brendon.”

“I’m not good enough for you. Not anymore. You’re gonna be better off without me and you’re gonna do so well. I know you are. This world was fucking made for you, Dallon, it’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand. You’ll have the entire world at your feet. I can’t hold you back anymore. This is killing us. You can’t keep letting me do this to you. I need to let you go.”

Disbelief flickered on Dallon’s features, and for a second Brendon could have sworn that he was about to burst into flames. And, well, here he was with his twin flame staring him down, and the pouring rain was putting them out. “I’m not yours to let go! You can’t put words in my mouth, Brendon, and you can’t read my mind either. You can’t tell me what I am and am not okay with!”

“But you shouldn’t be okay! This is too much! All of this is too much!” Brendon yelled, gesturing between the two of them, trying to get him to listen. "You and me can't work. We can't."

"Why, Brendon? What the hell changed between now and two days ago? Because you told me that you loved me and that you didn't want to take a break from me. I told you that you could if you really needed to and you said that it wasn't me and that you didn't want to. So why are you deciding now that you don't want me anymore?"

Fight for me. God, fight for me. Stand here in the pouring rain and scream that you’re in love with me. Stay with me forever. Stay, stay, stay. Please. "I changed my mind."

Brendon’s ambiguity had Dallon reeling. And the look he gave him made his heart break, but he couldn’t help but be scared. He felt demoralized, afflicted. He was ruining them because he wouldn’t let himself ruin Dallon. He had to pick his battles, and this one would be easier than what would happen along the line. "You ‘changed your mind’. In the span of a day, you changed your mind. About me, about us, about everything." He sounded so damn condescending. Quaking, Brendon nodded, a blatant lie and they both knew it. Dallon was shaking his head. "After everything we've been through, you're gonna break up with me now."

Brendon knew. He knew what he was doing; running and hiding like a foolish, scared little boy. And the way Dallon was looking at him was proof enough, the look of hurt and deceit and disappointment. Rightfully so, because Brendon was pretty disappointing. And Dallon swore that he knew him, swore that they’d made promises to each other. Had he suddenly forgotten? Because he could have bet on the fact that he and Brendon were forever.

Well, here’s to everything coming down to nothing.

"It's not that simple.” Brendon’s words echoed down the vacant street, but the sound of the rain pounding against the pavement almost completely masked it. Still, Dallon was staring, hanging on to every word, refusing to let go. Why wouldn’t he let go? “I don't want to but I have to. I don't know what else to say. I don't know how to get it in your head. We're done.” He pushed a tremoring hand through his hair, soaking wet and glued to his forehead. “God, you have to listen. Why don't you just listen?"

Dallon threw his hands up in frustration, and Brendon wiped at his cheeks. "Because I don't fucking understand! You can't just spring this on me, Brendon, you can't do this. Not to us. We need to talk about this. We can't keep yelling at each other in the middle of the goddamn sidewalk." He gestured around them, and he had a point. This was getting them nowhere. He needed to cut this clean.

He shook his head defeatedly, raising his shoulders in a final shrug. "Then let's stop yelling. I'm done, Dallon. I have to be done. We have to be done."

Brendon didn’t mean it but they had to. They had to end everything they had become. But that meant nothing to Dallon, because he had a fire in his eyes that would never extinguish. Brendon couldn’t believe he was even trying. "We're not breaking up, Brendon. We have a future together! We've talked about it for a year! We're gonna move in together in two months! We're gonna live together and get married and have kids and be together forever. You and me.” He was defiant. “I refuse to believe that this is the end. It's not. We have a future."

God, they did. Their future. Their apartment, their home, their lives together. He never wanted this, he didn’t want to see Dallon hurt, but... he’d just hurt him more if they kept this. Nothing would save them from the fallout. He knew it wouldn’t be a clean break but he had to, he had to. He shrugged again, pretended like he couldn’t care less. "Not anymore."

But Dallon wasn’t acting aloof, he was fighting for Brendon. He was doing just what Brendon knew he would do, and it was killing him. "Why?! Please, fucking enlighten me. Because this doesn't make any sense to me. You're not making any sense." He was fuming, and Brendon couldn’t prevent the tears from rolling down his cheeks.

He shook his head, let out a sob, and let his mind flicker through their memories, just like a movie. But this wouldn’t be a storybook ending, this would just be a tragedy. “Just... I’m a fucking lost cause. And I'm sorry, Dallon, but I can’t do this anymore.”

Dallon was glaring when he asked, “What, us, or life?”

He looked down at his feet, the rain soaking through his shoes. Dallon didn’t ask it lightly, not like he usually would. He was asking if this was because he wanted to hurt himself. Because if Dallon was mad at him, it would make it easier when he were to hear the news: diner boy found dead. It would make it all easier. He shook his head, addled, and sniffled like the rain was finally getting to him. “I... I don’t...”

He trailed off, because he didn’t know what to say. And Dallon didn’t either, because Brendon’s inability to answer was an answer in itself. He’d been thinking it all along. Hurt Dallon, and he would be free. No one left to care about him. He’d been a shitty friend and a terrible son and brother and boyfriend, he could turn them all against him. It would hurt less when he were gone. It had to hurt less. He needed to fade away without breaking any spirits, but Dallon had promised that he’d be his forever.

Forever was a long time to mourn the death of a once wide eyed and curious boy. The boy who used to dance around in his pajamas getting ready for school, who laughed at everything until the fear of the world set it. The boy his mother missed so dearly, the one he’d never been able to find in himself again. Just another reason for her not to miss him. Tyler could find another best friend, Dallon could fall in love with someone else, his family would get used to it. He had nothing to offer anymore. Brendon was inconsequential. When would Dallon see that?

Dallon shook his head and laced his fingers in his hair like he were crazy, because suddenly he seemed to get it. Brendon had spent his whole life trying to hide himself away only to let one boy break all of that down. And that boy found a way to get in and figure him out so far past the level that Brendon had put him on. He knew too much, and no amount of shouting in the street in the middle of the night during a perfect storm of complete destruction would ever take that back. Dallon knew him, whether he liked it or not.

And that was so beyond terrifying.

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill yourself. Oh, fuck.” Brendon couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying or both, but he looked up at the gray clouds in the sky, a puff of fog surrounding the streetlights, and let out a strained noise of exasperation and desperation. He looked disbelieving, heaven help him. There was another strike of lightning.

Brendon stared, speechless, throat closing up. His chest was constricting and he felt like he was about to puke. Somewhere beyond his peripheral vision he could hear the sound of a car on the road, and as the headlights shone across the wet pavement he wondered fleetingly if Dallon was right. He’d thought too much about it for it not to be a reality, he’d let his mind go there so much that it was starting to feel like home. By now it sounded so appealing, and maybe Dallon knew before he did what he was planning. Or not planning. But there were plenty of ways, he didn’t need to give it much thought. Step back into the street, right in front of that car. Pouring rain, dark night, it’d be labeled an accident.

This was all an accident.

“God, Brendon, you can’t. You can’t do this to me. You can’t do this to yourself.” He put a hand to his forehead as if to check his own temperature, see if this were some fucked up fever dream. But all that he felt was cold, wet skin and hair hanging in his eyes, and he laughed again, bitter and humorless. “Fuck, Brendon. I don’t know what to tell you anymore. I don’t know what to say. You wanna break up, then let’s break up. I can’t save you. I can’t, and that hurts, but what hurts even more is that you think I don’t care enough about you to be here when things get hard. Because I do, Brendon. I care about you.” Somewhere along the line, he began to pace. “Do you fucking hear me? Because you need to. You need to hear that, that someone cares about you. I care about you!”

And finally, everything was laid out, Brendon couldn’t hide it anymore. His wildfire lies were getting out of hand and even the pouring rain wouldn’t put them out. He spoke out tremulously, the quiver of his voice carrying almost nonexistently through the crash of thunder and the sound of rain against the glowing pavement. “You don’t want to be with someone who would be better off dead.”

And suddenly it was like they were dancing through an avalanche, needing love but craving danger, the bitter taste of lusting after destruction. Thunder cracked suddenly, and Dallon’s skin had illuminated with the sky, revealing a pair of wide blue eyes. There were two sides, a line in the form of a crack on the sidewalk in between them, the toes of converse sneakers close like they were face to face, but Brendon couldn’t feel farther. Dallon didn’t look angry anymore, just hurt. Brendon was detached, and Dallon’s heart was its own entity, but still Brendon prayed.

He looked up at heaven’s gates and prayed and prayed and prayed.

And he prayed that Dallon would never become a revenant, because he knew that he’d never be the same if Dallon had really left. He knew that minds changed and falling in love meant burning and bleeding and fading away but he prayed they wouldn’t. He didn’t want to see him in a crowded room with silence that felt too loud and pride he held tighter than how they had once held each other. He didn’t want to hear his laugh, the one he’d recognize anywhere, and be reminded that it was no longer his to smile at.

Brendon wanted to smile at his laugh for a long time.

He didn’t know who to be without him.

What was he doing?

All of a sudden, Brendon broke down with his armor and Dallon stepped closer, over the line that divided them. Over the enemy line. And Brendon liked it better when Dallon was on his side, anyway. Tears slid down his cheeks and he hoped he could pass it off as the rain, but Dallon had been around a long time. He reached out carefully, afraid that Brendon was going to push him away, but he all but collapsed into his arms when Dallon pulled him into a hug.

“Brendon, I promise you.” Softly, he held the sides of his neck and pressed his forehead to Brendon’s. “God, I promise.”

And that was enough for now. Brendon nodded fervently, sobbing now, barely letting Dallon examine the terrified look in his eye before he hid his wet, cold face in the soaked tee shirt that Dallon had been wearing. Dallon’s arms were strong, and Brendon was suddenly weary. “I’m sorry,” Brendon choked out quietly.

Dallon shook his head, tugging him toward the building. “Come inside, you need to get changed. I don’t want you to get sick.” He led him inside, and Brendon realized then that he was shaking violently. Maybe getting inside would be a good idea. But they both knew it; he was already sick.

Only when Brendon had changed into a pair of too long pajama pants and a warm long-sleeved shirt did he take a seat on the corner of Dallon’s bed with a blanket over his shoulders, still shaking after having dried off and changed. He’d even sat in front of the heater for a little while as Dallon changed too, and he was starting to warm up, but his tears wouldn’t stop. Even Dallon was still on edge.

He was stupid. He was stupid and selfish and careless and he couldn’t believe he’d let himself do that. But even after all that, a fight in the pouring rain when he tried to end it all, Dallon took him in and gave him warm clothes and told him that he was okay. He gave him a warm blanket and a cup of hot chocolate and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, a wary touch, before he went to sit on his desk chair, an appropriate distance to keep just in case Brendon meant what he said, that they were done. In that case, Dallon was even more of a saint for taking him in.

But he didn’t mean any of it and he didn’t want them to end. They were brave and they were strong, what they had was pure and groundbreaking and real. He didn’t want to be built up just to fall apart, he wanted them to fall together, he wanted— he wanted to fall for him over and over like he always did so well. He’d trust fall, and for real this time. He’d let himself fall back on Dallon. Dallon may have been way too good for him, and Brendon may have been terrified of holding him back, but... there were people you just come back to. He would come back to Dallon a million times again.

“So...” Dallon started from the desk chair, where he’d turned toward Brendon and rested the heel of his socked foot on the rung of the chair, with his cup of tea resting on his knee. “Do you wanna explain?”

Brendon was still quaking underneath the blanket, and half of it was just from nerves. “I don’t know what to say.” He muttered, clutching the blanket tight around him. Dallon nodded in understanding, Brendon could see out of the corner of his eye from where he was staring down at the corner of the mattress.

“You don’t have to say anything, not right now. But we do need to talk about this.” He said calmly, but Brendon could hear it in his voice; the heartbrokenness. Brendon broke his fucking heart.

“We will. I promise. Just... can I...” He gestured toward the head of Dallon’s bed awkwardly and Dallon nodded, setting his mug down on the desk. Sure, he could always stay.

Warily, voice masking his ache, Dallon asked, “Do you want me to sleep on the couch tonight?”

Brendon peeked up at him, offended he’d even ask, but then again everything was up in the air right now. He was right in asking. But Brendon shook his head, needed Dallon there with him, so he climbed into bed while Brendon got situated in his usual spot. And as Dallon set his glasses down on the side table and clicked off the lamp, Brendon curled up into his side and reached out to tangle his fingers in the side of his shirt. “I’m really fucking sorry.”

“I know.” Dallon whispered, slipping an arm around him protectively when Brendon buried his face into his shirt. Still so damn protective. “Me too. Just sleep, Bren, we’ll talk in the morning.”

Brendon nodded. Talking in the morning, that sounded good. Get everything off his chest. Remind Dallon that he wasn’t worth all the trouble, give him an out, apologize again and again. Try to talk some sense into him. But Brendon knew Dallon and he knew that Dallon was planning on talking some sense into him too. Maybe the problem was that when Brendon was around him, there was no sense to be made because they exceeded the boundaries of the tried and true. Could he blame that on Dallon or himself? He decided that it was best not to pin any blame on Dallon anymore, and instead focused on the boy’s quiet breathing.

It was cold. That was the first thing he’d noticed after Dallon had fallen asleep with his head on Brendon’s chest and an arm wrapped around him like a seatbelt, so he wouldn’t swerve and crash and combust. He was always trying to keep Brendon in control but after so long he was coming to realize that Brendon couldn’t settle. His mind was raring with activity and Dallon was simply standing in the middle of it all, a whirlwind of good and bad and dirty, dirty secrets that couldn’t be contained. Standing in the middle of it all like a deer in the headlights. His dear in the headlights. How awful of him to put Dallon in that place.

But it was cold. Beneath the warmth of Dallon’s body and the comforter, Brendon was cold and something was wrong. Potent wind was coming in through the closed windows, even behind the blinds, and as he carded his fingers through Dallon’s hair he hoped that no rain was sneaking its way in. Or maybe it should. Maybe he should have left the window open, and his abandoned sanity and long-lost sense of self would come in with the rain.

He had done something unspeakable. Now he was laying in silence with his mind unable to stray, living it over and over in his head like an old VHS tape that skipped too much. How dare he? How could he try to ruin the one good thing he had? Maybe he really was a lost cause. Maybe he was right all along. He was a burden. He was in everybody’s way. They all wanted him to be his old self, but he didn’t know who he was fooling. He wasn’t still looking for him. He’d given up months ago. Lost his balance somewhere along the line and lost his mind trying to find it.

He shuddered suddenly, a gust of freezing air blowing in like it had been invited, and sure, what was one more? The cold hearts club, population two. And Dallon was his plus one, no correlation to the club. Just an outside force.

It was easier back when everybody believed in him. Back when he thought he knew what he wanted. When he ran around and played without a care in the world, carried a lunchbox to school and made pillow forts in his living room. Whenever something was out of reach, somebody helped him. When he had a nightmare, there was always his parents’ bed waiting to lull him back to sleep. When he fell and scraped his knee, somebody kissed him and cradled him and helped him back up. When he was scared, his mom and dad would check under his bed for monsters every night. But everything was so far out of reach and every day was a nightmare. Now he was cut all over, and who was going to bandage him up and tell him that he would be okay?

He let his guard down and the monsters got him after all.

Brendon woke up that morning to the quiet sound of Dallon breathing, his breath fluttering with his eyelashes as he dreamt. He didn’t want to move or make a sound, he’d kept Dallon up half the night and he deserved to sleep. To be oblivious to the mistake from the night before. Somehow during the night Brendon had ended up with his head tucked against Dallon’s chest, he must had been shivering again. So he tilted his chin upward to watch him sleep, flickers of regret in his mind, and played aimlessly with the tips of Dallon’s hair until he stirred and blinked his eyes open.

Brendon tried to smile when their eyes met, a pained smile that held nothing other than apology, and Dallon reached down to place a hand on the back of his neck, sliding his fingers into the fairly damp brown locks. Not too long ago they were fighting in the midst of a storm like some bad movie. “Thought we broke up.” He said, yawning.

“Didn’t stick.” Brendon shrugged half-heartedly and forced a lukewarm smile as he pushed himself off of Dallon’s chest and onto his own half of the bed, where he’d claimed the first time he ever spent the night. So long ago, it felt like a different lifetime.

Dallon blinked away his exhaustion, and Brendon wondered if maybe they could shut it all out. Exchange warm smiles, talk about their dreams like they always did over breakfast. They could psychoanalyze them like Freudian psychologists and laugh because there was probably no meaning behind a band of cats, quite literally, except that Brendon liked cats and the trombone and probably needed to eat less sugar before bed.

But then Dallon sat up on his elbow and asked quietly, gently, “What was last night about, Brendon?” And Brendon stalled, mind racing. He kept thinking about it during the night and woke up shaking with tears in his eyes, but Dallon never caught him so he’d pretend that never happened either. Sure, he slept soundly. Dreamt of unicorns and puppies and lollipops. Best night’s sleep of his life.

Brendon mirrored his position and half smiled weakly. Fuck. “Damn, I hoped that was a dream. Or a nightmare, I guess. Psychoanalyze me. What does it mean?”

“It means that there’s something wrong with you right now, Brendon, and you can’t keep making jokes about it.” He countered, sounding hurt. “I know what you’re doing, and making jokes to cope won’t cure you. So tell me what’s going on so we can try to figure it out together. I’m on your side.”

On his side. Of course he was. “Okay. Um.” He looked down and started to pick at a loose thread on the comforter, sometimes he just really hated that Dallon could read him so well. “I don’t want us to be over. You know how much I love you and I don’t want to lose you. Not now, not ever. But I just think that— if we broke up, then you wouldn’t have me holding you back. You wouldn’t resent me. I ruin everything and I don’t want to ruin you. I’ve already made so many mistakes.” He sighed, and he could feel Dallon watching him carefully. “I know it’s stupid and it doesn’t make a lot of sense in the light of day, but... you don’t deserve to have this weight on your shoulders.”

Dallon shook his head and let out a breath, a mixture of exasperation and worry. He was quiet for a second, trying to think, and Brendon peeked up to watch his eyes flicker between his hands, picking at his nail beds anxiously. “I think you’re wrong, Bren. I really do. You’re not a burden and you know that I mean that. I’ve never treated you like one. You’re my equal.”

“But I am, Dallon.” He sighed again and covered his face with his hands to collect his thoughts. He was so frustrated. Why didn’t Dallon understand? “Look. I meant what I said last night. I can’t— I can’t be who I used to be, and I know everyone wants me to. I feel like I’m being pressured into morphing into some happy person that just doesn’t exist anymore. I tried so hard to find the old me but I don’t know how. I’m not who you fell in love with and I’m not a good boyfriend or friend or son or brother and... fuck, no one would miss me if I were gone. That’s why...” He stopped, thought about it. He couldn’t say it.

“That’s why you tried to break up with me? To cut ties?” Dallon helped out, and yes, thank you. Thank you for reminding him.

Tears slipped out of his eyes, and he nodded minutely. “I thought that if I broke up with you then maybe you would be mad at me and then it would hurt less. I was trying to protect you, and I know it doesn’t seem that way, but you need to understand that I did it because I’m scared of fucking up. I wanted to end us before I could let myself ruin you.”

Dallon’s eyes flickered up and down his features, as if trying to imagine him gone. A life without Brendon wasn’t one he wanted to live. He couldn’t even begin to figure out who he was before Brendon. “That... that doesn’t make any sense.”

Brendon looked down at his hand in Dallon’s and admitted in humiliation, “I know.”

Dallon ran his thumb over the top of Brendon’s hand, careful like he were afraid of breaking him. There was a silence that lingered for a minute, a silence where Brendon prayed that that was it, but then Dallon asked a hushed, “What do you mean, that you wanted me to be mad so that it would hurt less? What would hurt less?”

Brendon squeezed his eyes shut to avoid the stare of confused blue eyes, and more tears found their way down the already wet streaks on his face. “If I... you know. I don’t wanna freak you out. But. Uh.” He kept his eyes closed, and could feel Dallon staring at him but he wouldn’t dare look. He couldn’t look at Dallon right now. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. And I swore I’d tell you when I’m in that place but then I realized that I’m putting so much pressure on you. Every time I call, you must worry when you see my name, or when you see that I’m not in school or don’t answer your messages right away. You’re scared. You have to be scared. Because when I found out about you, I was scared out of my fucking mind.” Another tear slid down his cheek, and he didn’t bother wiping it away. “I don’t want you to be scared.”

Dallon looked slightly terrified but hid it well. He just stared with narrowed eyes and asked carefully, “What are you saying, Brendon?”

“I’m saying that I wanna kill myself.” He blurted, and he realized then that looking up at Dallon was a mistake. The stoic blue eyes, looking at him like he couldn’t speak his mind because something had taken over his body and was overriding his system. Completely stagnant, the calm before the storm. But still, he persisted. “I do. I know it seems irrational and unfair but I don’t— I don’t think anybody would care if I were gone. I think that at this point, I’m just a burden to everyone. I’m hurting everyone around me and I... I’ve been thinking that I should just... leave.”

Dallon shook his head carefully, trying to construct something to say that wouldn’t scare him away. So much could be said right now but Brendon could only handle a fraction of it. “You can’t think like this, Brendon.”

If only it were that easy. “But I do.”

“But you can’t. I know me saying that won’t fix anything, I’ve been in this place and it’s complicated and I don’t know what to say to make you feel better because when I was here, nothing anyone said helped. I know that this has gone so far beyond words. I just... I wanna try and get through to you on this.” He took his hand intently and stared into the pair of teary brown eyes so intimidatingly that Brendon felt threatened to do as he said, no matter how difficult he knew that would be. “Things are hard. But they do get better. And you can’t push me away when I’ve done nothing to give you a reason to. You need to be able to fall back on me, baby. You can’t skip out on me because you’re scared.”

He was scared, and Dallon was right. He hated when Dallon was right. It just reminded him of how goddamn clueless he was. He looked away, ashamed in himself. “I know. And I really didn’t want to hurt you. I just... I thought it would make things easier on you.”

Dallon’s hand squeezed his own hard, and Brendon’s eyes flickered toward them, lingering wonderingly and waiting. “But what you didn’t factor in is that I love you and I care about you, I meant what I said last night. And you’re right, that you may not be who I fell in love with, but I’ve fallen in love with you a million times since, so what’s one more?” He leaned in suddenly and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, making Brendon look back up at him with his eyebrows knit together and his heart constricting in his chest. “You’re my best friend, Brendon. My partner. It’s not just a cliché label. We go through this together, no matter how badly you think that you’re gonna hurt me, because you’re not. You’re not. You’re not ruining me, and you’re not going to remedy that by breaking up with me. I don’t mean to criticize you but that was just a horrible idea.”

Brendon met his eyes and let his gaze settle, realizing then that his reasoning was disgusting. Morbid, even. He really let the invasive thoughts take advantage of him this time. He promised himself once upon a time that he would never let that happen. So what went wrong? He was just too weak now. Too weak to fight for himself. He’d fallen one too many times, and now he was just limping along, covered in dirt, trying to get a handle on things. He never would. “I know. I just didn’t know what else to do.”

“I understand. But listen, Brendon, you’re talking about wanting to kill yourself and that’s really, really serious. I can’t do much about it except tell you that I’m here for you, but if you want my advice, you should talk to your parents and your guidance counselor because you can’t keep feeling this way. It’s gonna build up until it’s impossible to fix.” Dallon explained calmly, not reacting the way Brendon had been picturing for weeks. Holding it together better than he thought he would.

Brendon wiped his cheeks with his free hand and nodded in compliance, because he couldn’t keep running. He was almost out of places to hide. “Okay. Okay, I’ll talk to them. I’ll try. I just... I wanna get better and at this point it seems like it’s never gonna happen, y’know? Every time I think I’m getting better, I just come around full circle.”

“I know it seems that way but it will. You just have to wait awhile. These things don’t happen overnight.” He reached up to place a hand on the side of Brendon’s face and thumbed his cheek gently, as if he were admiring him one last time. Just in case, Brendon wondered. “I need you to know that people care about you. And I need you to believe that you matter to me.”

He sniffled. He shouldn’t matter to Dallon. He was insignificant. He would be better off dead. He mattered? That just felt like a running joke. “Sometimes I just think that it’s not enough.”

Dallon shook his head, tears in his eyes, flooded with empathy and worry and distress. “I know, baby. I know. But hurting yourself isn’t a way to fix your problems and cutting off the people you love isn’t either.” He waited for Brendon to meet his eyes again before he gave him the rawest truth that he needed to hear. He needed the reminder. “I can’t turn off my feelings for you. I wouldn’t not care about you if you were dead just because you broke up with me. I would be devastated either way. I would be losing the love of my life in more ways than one.” He kissed him softly, gently, like he needed to remind him that they meant something. And they did, Brendon just had a minute of clouded judgment. “Please. I need you to get better. Because you and I have a future.”

Brendon nodded solemnly, seeing it now though he had forgotten before. Their future, there it was again. What a beautiful life they had planned together. Why ruin it? “I know we do. And I want that future more than anything.” All the more reason to stay alive. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Brendon. I am too.” He rested his forehead against Brendon’s and let out a breath, trying to recollect. There were so many things to be said, but what could he say? How could he possibly get through to him more than he had? Brendon Urie was stubborn and made choices regardless. Dallon just got by on praying. “God, I am too. I just want you to feel okay again.”

A few more tears made their way down his cheeks, but he didn’t wipe them away, just closed his eyes and felt Dallon’s warm breath on his mouth. “I do too.”

“And one more thing that I wanna mention.” He pulled away to take his hand. “I’m sorry that you feel as though you’re holding me back. I don’t want you to think that. I love having you by my side and I want you to be confident with me. You and I are a team and I want it that way forever.”

Forever. Maybe they would get their forever after all. Maybe it was different. “So do I,” Brendon choked out.

Dallon wiped Brendon’s cheeks carefully, eyes watching his with caution. “Okay. Now look, I’m gonna make you breakfast and I wanna make sure you’re okay before you go home. But I mean it, Bren, you have to tell your parents. Or Kara, or anyone else, I don’t know. But you have to talk about this.” Dallon squeezed his hand hard with the request. No, not a request. A demand. Brendon had to do it. For Dallon, for himself, he didn’t care, but he couldn’t keep bottling things up and then letting them explode.

Brendon nodded solemnly, and as painful as it was he didn’t dare drop his gaze. “I will. I swear.” He crossed his heart, and something in his deep brown eyes must had seemed trustworthy because Dallon nodded too, still looking a little shaken up, and then got out of bed.

“Okay. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He pressed a long kiss to his forehead before he pulled away and disappeared from his room, leaving Brendon and his thoughts.

He tried to break he and Dallon apart when all Dallon did was love him. Spent almost every night with him, let his cry on his shoulder. Dallon was a creature comfort and Brendon wanted to keep him forever and never let him go. He was something he could never let go. And something in his heart ached when he let himself think about what he had done.

Brendon stared at his lap with tears still pooling in his eyes, down at the pajama pants Dallon had given him, trying to think of how to tell his family. How did you just... tell the people that raised you that you’re thinking about committing suicide? He couldn’t just throw it at them like that. He had to carefully consider what he was going to say. If only he knew how to be careful when considering.

“Hey, comrade.” Dallon whispered suddenly upon placing a tray of pancakes on the bed and taking a seat beside Brendon carefully, making him aware of how much time had passed since he’d begun to contemplate all his stupid mistakes. Brendon didn’t say anything, didn’t need to, just turned to pull Dallon into a hug because he needed to be held or he would disappear. So Dallon held him, breathed him in, squeezed his eyes shut. “You feelin’ okay?”

Pushing his nose against Dallon’s shoulder, Brendon shook his head. Dallon rubbed his back in between his shoulder blades like he knew calmed him down, sliding a hand up to card through Brendon’s hair. And Brendon tilted his head up, pressed his nose against the side of his neck, squeezed Dallon’s shoulder tightly, and when his eyelashes butterfly kissed Dallon’s skin he could feel traces of wet. “I’m sorry,” Brendon whispered, and Dallon only pulled away to thumb the tears off of his cheeks, concern settling in his azure irises.

Grazing his skin with a gentle thumb, he whispered, “My Brendon, don’t be sorry.”

“I didn’t mean any of it. I never changed my mind and I don’t want to be done.” He cried, and Dallon was shaking his head too much, holding his cheeks, leaning in to shush him with his lips on his own. Brendon let out a strangled noise of apologetic failure but Dallon stroked his hair, trying to calm him down.

“No, I know. I know. I don’t either.” He pulled him close and held on tight to his upper arm until Brendon’s head was against his chest and Dallon had his chin on the top of Brendon’s head, and then he was letting tears greet the world. “I know. You wouldn’t do that to me. But I was so scared, Bren. I just kept thinking that this had to be a nightmare and that this isn’t the Brendon I know and then it hit me that everything we’d worked for would be for nothing. I thought, our apartment is gonna be so lonely without you in it. Because it’s not gonna be home without you. I want you in our apartment, you and all your clutter and your messy habits and your singing in the shower. I wanna wake up to you and go to bed to you in a place of our own. I want you to get mean when you’re in a bad mood and then apologize even though I know you didn’t mean it. Just because you said it doesn’t mean you meant it. And I know that. And I forgive you.”

Brendon shook his head against Dallon’s chest frantically, sobbing, “You should have let me die.”

Dallon squeezed his eyes shut. “Brendon.”

“I’m not worth it.”

“Don’t say that. Please. You don’t think so, I know, but every time I look at you I remember why I fell in love with you. You’re my everything, Brendon. I’m gonna fucking fight for you forever.”

“But you don’t need me.” He cried, not getting that Dallon disagreed. “I’m not good for you. I’m not good anymore. I’m not— not pure or innocent or happy and I’m not who you wanted.”

“Things change, Brendon. Maybe we changed a little but we’re still us. I’ve changed a lot too in the past year.” He promised, tucking hair behind his ear. “And look, I know it’s hard to pinpoint whether you’re good or not because it’s intrinsically impossible. There’s not just good and bad. There’s just... there’s just this mosaic of every piece of the different versions of ourselves. And whether I’ve seen them or not, I’m in love with all the versions of you. No matter what angle I look at you from, you’re my future. You’re my forever.”

Brendon sniffled, tangling his fingers in Dallon’s tee shirt. “Not every angle is a good one.”

He shook his head insistently. “I don’t care. I love you when you’re telling me about your day and when you’re ignoring me while you’re working because you can’t push everything aside for me, and how you smile when I argue with it even though I understand. And when you ask me weird questions and then get embarrassed or when you’re trembling because you have some deep-rooted fear of the ocean because of a crab or when you’re screaming at me in the pouring rain on my vacant street in the middle of the night. I love you. I love your secrets and your favorite stories to tell, I love your good and bad and you, Brendon. I love you. I need you to get that through your head. I love you so viscerally that it hurts. And if you let me, I’ll keep loving you like this forever.”

At a loss for words, Brendon nodded, wondering how he could ever think about letting this go. Even after everything he let Brendon in, holding him and making promises Brendon knew he would keep. “I promised I would never leave you.” He cried.

“And you’re not going anywhere. Not on my watch.” Dallon turned his head to press his lips to his temple, leaving his lips there long enough to get it into Brendon’s head. He was there for the long run. Brendon just needed to start believing him. “Now please eat something. You’re exhausted. Eat and go home and rest. You need to rest.”

“Yeah.” He sat up and wiped his cheeks. He would be fine. He had to be fine. If Dallon promised, then it had to be true. “Yeah, you’re right. Thank you, Dallon.” He pressed a gentle kiss to his jawline and reached up to run his fingers over the slope of his cheek. “I really needed that.”

“I know.” Dallon wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed his upper arm, head on his shoulder and a tuft of hair brushing the side of his neck. And Brendon knew what he had. Someone he needed. Something he couldn’t live without. Dallon nudged his forearm, and he turned to look at him. “Please eat.”

“Yeah.” He reached out to grab the fork off the plate, and poked at a slice of strawberry doused in maple syrup and powdered sugar. His heart hurt and he knew that wasn’t easily reparable, but with a little remedying, he’d get better. He just had to try. He had to let Dallon try too.

He didn’t want to go home. Going home meant telling his parents. Going home meant breaking the lie. He wanted to stay tucked in Dallon’s bed, under the covers and enveloped in his arms. He didn’t want to think anymore. But he had to. He had to. It always came down to having to go home to the truth.

He and Dallon ate quietly beside each other, bumping shoulders and tangling their fingers together every few minutes until they needed their hand for something, and then repeated the cycle a minute later. And it would be difficult to go home. He knew that. To tell them all the truth and stop hiding what he thought would die with him.

“If you keep shutting it out, you’ll never get better. To get help, you have to want to be helped.” Dallon had said as Brendon changed into borrowed pants, getting ready to go home.

And as Brendon prepared to go, he looked down at the shirt he hadn’t taken off and tugged at the hem of it. He would keep Dallon’s shirt, he’d go home and talk to his family about what had happened and then he’d forget about it, and he’d curl up in bed with the smell of Dallon on him and close his eyes and think. He’d make the most out of his vacation. He wouldn’t think about this. He would keep the shirt, and Dallon would keep his word.

“Hey, Dal?”

Dallon’s eyes followed him as he lingered in the doorway, holding his plastic bag of still damp clothes from the night before after having denied a ride home from Dallon because he didn’t want him to get out of bed. Dallon didn’t owe him any favors. “Yeah?” He asked quietly, noticing within his absolute threshold how timid Brendon seemed when he said it.

“Are we okay?”

Dallon was quiet for a second, his eyes fixated on Brendon’s like he were trying to search him, but Brendon couldn’t be more open than he had already been that night. He tore himself open and let himself bleed out onto the sidewalk, soaking through his clothes, all over the clean white sheets of Dallon’s bed. So he just stood and stared and prayed until Dallon nodded, and it was like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. “Yeah. We’re okay.”

“Okay.” Brendon forced a smile and turned to leave, but Dallon stopped him, before he could let him slip away and fall into the rest of the world. Out of his arms. Where it wasn’t safe.

“Brendon.” He called out suddenly, making him turn to catch his gaze, hope in his eyes and an ache in his chest. “I’d miss you a hell of a lot if you were gone.”

And just then, something in Brendon’s gaze flickered. He’d miss Dallon too. He’d miss a lot of things. “I love you,” Brendon whispered so infinitesimally that Dallon almost missed it, if not for the way he hung onto every word he said since the day they’d met. Dallon smiled warmly, and the apprehensive boy asked, “can I call you tonight?”

Dallon’s eyes softened, and Brendon knew, he knew, and he needed this, his too blue eyes and false demeanor of looking out together. The way he knew more than he’d say and how he hid until he knew he could trust somebody. Brendon would miss him too. That was worth something. “I’ll be waiting by the phone until you do.”

Brendon nodded like they were shaking on a law binding promise and tried to smile as genially as he could before he slid out of the room. And he walked across the wooden floorboards, past the picture frames hanging on the wall, walked through the apartment that he swore as his safe space once upon a time. And it continued to keep him safe, and it would for as long as he let it.

As the front door closed behind Brendon, Dallon stared down at his sheets and let his mind wander. It wasn’t fair. Any of it. Somebody who had once been so good and pure and innocent talking about suicide like he had mapped it all out, thinking about it like it were an aspiration. It was something Dallon thought long and hard about too.

As he lay curled up in bed with tears in his eyes he heard the sound of his mother coming home, the front door closing, dropping her keys on the table, footsteps down the hall. He crawled out of bed and his mind went to that scary place, except this time it wasn’t his scary place. It was Brendon’s. And somehow he could see it, scary in a way that wasn’t comforting like he had once been. And he hadn’t let himself go there in a while but now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“I don’t think anybody would care if I were gone.” The words hurt to hear, almost as much as they hurt Brendon to say. How could he think that? How didn’t he know?

Dallon knocked on the doorframe of his mother’s open door. She was rooting through her drawers, looking for a change of clothes, but stopped as if to say hello, good morning, though it wasn’t a very good morning at all. “Um. Can I talk to you?”

She must had been able to sense the desperation and terror in his shaking voice because she nodded and gestured toward her bed, an invitation to sit. “What’s going on, sweetie?”

“Okay. Uh. I know you’re gonna wanna do something about this but you have to promise that you won’t, okay?” With furrowed eyebrows, she nodded despite the circumstances. “Okay. Cause it’s really, really bad. And you told me that I can talk to you about anything, so I’m coming to you because I can’t tell this to anyone else.” He looked down at his lap briefly before he met her eyes, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. Feeling a few tears fight their way out, he told her, “Brendon’s been talking a lot about wanting to kill himself and— um, the other night he was about to, and last night he broke up with me because he thought that if I hated him I wouldn’t care if he died and it’s like he’s planning this all and I’m really scared that it’s not just a cry for help. I’m really scared and I don’t know how to help.” He cried, and she pulled him into a hug, not knowing just what to say. It was hard for her when her son was going through it. It was hard to see her son watch someone he loved go through it, too.

“You broke up?” She asked, rubbing his arm gently.

Dallon shook his head, clutching her shirt in his fist and sniffling. “He broke up with me and I said no. I told him I’d never leave him and I won’t break that promise. I won’t let him leave me either. Yelled at him, but I got my point across, I think.”

“You’ve always been persistent.” She sighed, sliding a hand up to pet his hair. “I’m sorry, babe. I don’t know what to say. This is a really, really heavy topic.” She paused to think. “Have you talked to him about it? Suicide?”

Dallon nodded and pulled away to look her in the eye, searching for an apology because they never talked about this, only when she caught Dallon hurting himself, but even then it was never in depth. But this was different. This was his Brendon. This wasn’t him she needed to look out for. “After everything that happened he thinks he’s a burden and that no one wants him around, and no matter what I say I feel like I can’t get into his head. He thinks he’s disposable and I swore to him that he’s not but he just... he won’t see it.” He wiped his tears away but felt them linger on his skin. “He told me flat out that he wanted to kill himself. He didn’t dance around it or anything. He just said that he wanted to kill himself. And I’m so scared.”

“Oh, Dallon.” She sighed, going to pull him into a hug again because she didn’t know what to say. “Honey.”

He continued frantically, crying again and not bothering to hide it. “I don’t know what to do. I told him that I loved him and that I would miss him but sometimes that isn’t enough.” He pulled away and started to gesture with his hands. “And what scares me the most is that I can’t be with him every second of every day so I don’t know what’s going on at all times. He’s shutting me out with all of this and I’m scared that I’m losing him. And I can’t be in his mind so I don’t know how to tell what he’s thinking. If he still wants to hurt himself or if I got to him. So what if he does something when I’m not there? What if I couldn’t help?”

She was quiet for a second, thinking, holding the side of his neck like it would help him settle down. “You can’t save him, Dallon. You know that. You’re not a superhero.” She thumbed his cheek, swiping the trail of wet on his pale skin away. “You can try to help him, and you have been, but if something happens to him it’s not your fault. Brendon needs to get help, and not just from you. You need to be there for him the whole time but he needs real help.”

“I know. He promised me he would tell his family, and he’s already talking to the guidance counselor every week, so I’m hoping that he tells her and they work something out. I just...” He looked down at his lap, and a tear dripped off of his cheek and onto the fabric of his sweatpants. “He’s my best friend. What would I do if he were gone?”

“I don’t know, baby.” She ran her fingers through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure that out.”

And Dallon looked up, met her eyes, wiped his cheeks. Brendon had to be okay. He couldn’t lose someone else. He couldn’t lose Brendon. Not him. Not again. He sat up pensively, trying to conjure up a way to make things better. She said that he couldn’t be a superhero, but why the hell not? He could save lives if he wanted to. There was a boy who needed his help so he was going to help. He had to.

Across town, Brendon was stepping off of the bus and onto the wet pavement outside the diner, where he had ran so defiantly just hours prior. His mind was racing and he was letting himself walk at a slow pace behind it. He glanced up at the sky just then, at the clouds rolling above him, and let himself think. He tried to screw everything up and still, Dallon took him in, held him, made promises he always meant to keep.

Dallon wasn’t flawless. Hell, people were made for flaws. But he was perfect to Brendon.

There were a million things that were perfect. Carriage rides and heads against shoulders, gentle brushes of the hand and rosy cheeks. The sky after a storm, the feeling of sunshine across exposed skin, the stretch of a rainbow across a sky when it was least expected. Warm lips on bare flesh and touches that leave you breathless. Amongst these things was a blue-eyed boy with nothing but good intentions, and Brendon couldn’t believe he almost let that go. That should be the one thing he held on tight to forever.

As he stepped into the warmth of his house that he had left just the night before, on the way to ruin his life, he realized that he had to let things take their course the best way he could; no interference, no control. His tiny world was magic when it wanted to be and maybe all was paradise lost, but he would find it where it fell away that summer like he would find himself.

There were little bits of magic everywhere. He liked to think his bit of magic was just on the track to finding him again.

He crept into the kitchen to see his parents staring back at him with worry flickering in their eyes. And it occurred to him then that he hadn’t told them where he had gone, though that was probably for the best. He had to make mistakes to remind himself that he was allowed that luxury. Even when it was wrong. Even when.

“I did something stupid,” Brendon admitted, proceeding with caution.

Once the words came out, they wouldn’t stop. He told them about the accident on his birthday and the decision to break up with Dallon, the fight and the fallout and the reconciliation. How he cried and cried and laid awake at night hating himself, how he desperately wanted help. And they wanted to help him too. So they gave him an ultimatum: he wouldn’t have to go to therapy if he didn’t want to, as long as he kept opening up to them and talking to Ms. Kenny. But he had to go back and talk to his doctor. And he pinky swore that he’d go, crossed his heart and promised not to hope to die.

When he got upstairs that night, he took out his black notebook and opened it up to a fresh page, the one after his angry scribbled tear-stained rant that had bled onto the pages so easily on the night of his birthday. The new page was crisp and white. A new beginning. And then he wrote down in the neatest handwriting he could muster with the black ink ballpoint pen in his grip, Reasons to Stay Alive.

He made a notable dot in the margins and wrote beside it there are people who love me. Because he may not have known anything, but at least he knew that.

He reached out to grab his phone and hurried to call Dallon. He answered on the second ring, and as Brendon sat back in his chair he sighed. Even after everything, Dallon still answered his calls. “Hi.”

“Hi, baby, is everything okay?” Dallon’s worried voice came to him like he’d been waiting months to hear it, and he felt at peace, Dallon always did that to him, and everything was okay, or as okay as it could be. He was feeling better. He was telling himself that he was feeling better.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I said I’d call you and I didn’t want to leave you waiting by the phone.” Dallon laughed at that, a muted sound that had Brendon smiling down at his lap. “I just wanted to apologize for how crazy I acted last night. I wasn’t right, they were invasive thoughts.”

“That’s okay, Bren. I understand. I did a lot of stupid stuff when I was at my worst too. This is a setback, and it’s fine. We’re fine. I promise.” His voice was delicate. And Brendon nodded slowly to himself, looking down at his lap. Out of all the mistakes he’d ever made, hurting Dallon had to be the worst.

“I love you.” He whispered into the phone so quietly that the rest of the world couldn’t hear it if they tried.

“I love you too.” And the eutony of the word made Brendon’s pulse pick up, realizing that that meant something. All of it meant something. He couldn’t keep doing this to himself. He had to fix this.

“And I’m gonna take your advice. About looking for my answers. Nobody’s gonna find them for me, and I need to make myself okay with who I am and the— the problems that I’ve been shutting out.” He swallowed thickly, running his fingers gingerly over the fabric of his pale yellow boxers. “I want my answers, Dallon.”

Dallon took in a little huff of air like he was trying to take in the words. He was proud: Brendon could hear it over everything. The pride in his voice, hiding behind a smile, when he offered a quiet, “Go get ‘em, kid.”

And Brendon would.


	61. Chapter 60: Liability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning! Also, I am not a medical professional! Literally never take anything from this seriously! If you're feeling like this in any way, seek help from someone you trust! <3

A chemical imbalance in the brain. A genetic disorder. A mind-altering mental illness. How could depression be put into a box? It was different for everybody. It was much more difficult than a simple diagnosis and a prescription of pills. It was so much more; Brendon had proven that even further each day since he had been told that he had it. And just like that, they had all tried to put Brendon in a box, but Brendon wouldn't let them. It wasn't fair.

As soon as he'd discovered that there was no way for him to categorize Dallon like he tended to do with everything else that took up time in his life, he conjured up a theory that mental illness was a spectrum and people who possessed it were much too complex to be sized up and shrunk down. Boxes were far too containing, and after so many years of feeling like he had to be pushed down into one, he was getting claustrophobic and he was breaking out of it.

Bumblebee: our lake

Dally: on my way.

Things felt estranged, and Brendon couldn’t tell if it was the fight or the revelation or just the aftermath of it all. He was just trying to figure it out. He stared up at the stars, not hazy like they were in the city, and Brendon almost lost himself in them before he caught the distance crunch of sand. He didn’t look back but he knew, Dallon had this certain presence.

Dallon said nothing as he took a seat in the sand beside him, their shoulders brushing. He wanted to say hi but the word died behind his teeth, and it sat heavy on his tongue as he stared at the water.

In their silence Brendon leaned into him, reached out to touch his hand, caressing cold extremities carefully and daring to let his fingers trail upwards. He pushed his sweater sleeve up to his elbow, and Dallon grit his teeth but said nothing, didn’t want to, just stared ahead as a gentle thumb rubbed at the bruise, almost a blister, tracing it carefully like he were connecting the dots again.

“When was the last time?” Brendon asked calculatedly, eyes on the mark and then on Dallon’s. Dallon avoided them anyway, said nothing though he didn’t have to. Brendon already had him down, knew him by heart, though sometimes it felt like he didn’t.

“After...” Dallon closed his eyes. After. After Brendon had gone home to tell his family his dirty truth, after he had told his mother he was going for a drive, after going back to the street where he had shown Brendon a side of him he never thought he would. Well, he’d seen a few different sides of Brendon too.

He stopped and Brendon sighed, pulled his sleeve back down, and held his hand with both of his own instead. “Dallon.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Brendon whispered, shaking his head and then leaning it against his shoulder. “I just wish you didn’t do this.”

“It’s the same thing as thinking about downing your pills.” Dallon fought, though weak, and leaned his head gently against Brendon’s. It wasn’t the same thing, impulse decisions versus a constant state of intentional damage, hiding it from the world just to persist because after years of destroying themselves boys like Dallon breathed pain and didn’t know what to do without it. It wasn’t the same thing. It was worse. “Just less permanent.”

“I didn’t, though.” Brendon refuted, as if it were something to be proud of. As if almost killing yourself but not really was something to hang on the fridge or frame for the family to see. It wasn’t, but his inability to see clearly blurred lines between perniciousness sometimes.

“I did.” Dallon shrugged, laced with not malice but self-abhorrence, thinking of a past life where not having one seemed much more appealing. “What does that make me? Weak?”

“Less cowardly. Or more, I guess, depending on how you see it.” Brendon figured. Dallon sighed, wishing back to a year ago when Brendon knew nothing about him, when he was a blank slate that Brendon could make up as he went along. When he could play dress up because he would never get away with it now. “Hey, Dallon?” He whispered suddenly, and Dallon nodded, folding his arms. “Um, I did something... kind of out of bounds. And I wanna talk to you about it.”

Dallon lifted his head warily, sitting back to face him and nodding carefully. “Okay.”

“Um.” Brendon ran his hands over his lap, shifting to face him too. “Sophomore year in English, we, um. We had to write a short story. I don’t know if you remember. And this one day I had to make up the last test, there was like, a week of school left, and Ms. Davis had to go make copies in another room so I went to borrow a pencil from her desk and I saw your writing assignment. And I know it’s a breach of privacy but I read it, because it was there and I wanted to know you and I didn’t know how else to do it.”

Dallon nodded slowly. Of course he remembered. He had stayed up, tears blurring his vision in the dim light of his kitchen, not wanting to see comprehensively anyway. He had hidden it from his mother, promised he’d show her soon but never got around to it. And he was hesitant to turn it in, debated taking a failing grade because his heart began to pound and he could hear blood rush in his ears and he wondered if maybe he was making a mistake. He never meant for anyone but the teacher to read it. He never meant for Brendon to, especially.

“It was... dark. Morbid.” Brendon played with his hands, and Dallon remembered. “It was about this kid who got stuck at the bottom of a well because he couldn't fix things with the people around him.”

“I remember.” Word for word. “He didn’t get stuck. He put himself there.”

The elucidation made Brendon’s eyebrows furrow in confusion but Dallon just stared, apathetic, as he tried to piece it together. “What?”

Dallon sighed, looking away and down at his lap, and there were so many regrets tethered to the boy, so much desire to erase history and start again. But where was his genesis if not built from the ashes of who he had been? “It was a metaphor. It was about a boy who didn’t know how to make things better so he put himself at the bottom of a well because he wanted to stop hurting the people that he loved. It was a metaphor about...”

He paused and Brendon watched his face, alabaster teeth capturing a chapped lip under a wary gaze. Brendon remembered wondering back then, not understanding but not having to, just yet. But now things were different, and it was no longer something intangible but something set out right in front of him, something he cornered out of a hesitant Dallon and examined because he was sick of them keeping secrets.

“It was about you, wasn’t it?” Without a word, Dallon nodded, gaze astray and making Brendon’s own blur with tears. “You... you wrote about being dead.” He remembered, words he hardly recognized printed in a way that didn’t seem like Dallon.

Brendon hadn’t read it in years, forgot now the finer details that didn’t matter because he knew the real Dallon, not some fabricated version printed on paper too pristine for a boy like him. He still had the photo on his computer, could go find it when he got home if he wanted, but he didn’t want to think of how scared he was going to be when he realized how truthful Dallon’s words were now.

Dallon nodded, contrarily remembering every word, and Brendon asked in a whisper, not really knowing if he wanted an answer, “Why did you write about yourself dying?”

"I've been dead since I was fifteen, Brendon." Dallon whispered back, and cold tears slipped from Brendon’s eyes at the numbness in his voice, his carelessness, his ability to break Brendon’s heart but scold him when he did the same. “I just wish you’d get that.”

“That’s not fair.” Brendon said with conviction, shaking his head in disbelief and trying to steady a quivering voice when Dallon looked back at him. “You can’t do that. Tell me not to hurt myself and then tell me... tell me that. It’s not fair.”

“Most things aren’t fair.” Dallon shrugged, passive enough to make Brendon shake, and he wiped tears from his cheeks while Dallon looked from the water’s edge to Brendon’s eyes. “But that’s not to say I’m not trying. I’m not taking too many pills to try and fix things too fast anymore so what’s the problem? I’ve been dead for years but I’m still trying.”

“Why do you do this?” Brendon asked, trying to stop his tears though they wouldn’t.

“Because you planned to break up with me by suicide!” Dallon shot back, and Brendon stared at him with the accusation sinking deep in his veins.

“You’ve been trying to kill yourself since the day we met." He snapped, tears blurring his vision. "You burn yourself and starve yourself and don’t care how that affects me. So shouldn’t I not care how what I do affects you? Why shouldn’t I just do it?”

Taking in a shuddering breath, Dallon put a hand to his chest like suddenly he couldn’t breathe. “Because everyone I love leaves me!" He sobbed in a way that made it sound like he was being torn open. "Because for years I’ve felt like I’m walking around dismembered and then the only person who ever made me feel anything wanted to leave too, and I know it’s not about me, and I know it’s selfish, but I am so scared, Brendon, and I’m sick of pretending I’m okay because you’re not!”

“Dallon.” He enveloped him in a hug and Dallon shuddered into his shoulder, broken down suddenly without having realized he’d started to cry. “Baby. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I’m not going anywhere. I don’t want you to pretend anything. I want you to be honest with me.”

“I am, Brendon.” He whispered as he pulled away, tears staining his cheeks as the setting sun met them hastily. “I’m telling you how I really feel. And I deal with it because I have to. I live because I have to. And I thought you were better than me. I thought you were going to do better than I ever did.”

Brendon sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry I let you down, then.”

“You didn’t let me down, Brendon!” He cried in exasperation, swiping fingers on his cheeks but to no avail, because his tears blurred his vision and he could barely see the mess he laid out. “You could never let me down. I just wish you didn’t let yourself down.”

“I’ve been letting myself down my whole life, Dallon. This is no different.” Brendon shrugged; this was all useless anyway. He and Dallon had almost ended things a million times since October. If Dallon was going to break his heart he had to get it over with, because Brendon was sick of waiting around on edge, wondering who was stabbing them this time.

Dallon sighed out in distress but said nothing because he had already said enough. He just shifted to sit facing the water again, eyes fixated on the continuous pattern of ripples, and with a sniffle Brendon sat beside him, shoulders pressed together because too close was never enough. The winter was melting into spring, not soon enough, but Brendon still felt cold all the time, trying to start fires but hesitating because he didn’t know how to put them out.

“Commiseration kills. Loneliness kills faster.” Brendon whispered, and Dallon met his eyes with unmistakable recognition as their fingers laced together so inconspicuously it was like it was unconscious. “I remember that line from it. I thought about that a lot. Wondered what it meant.”

“Right.” Dallon sighed out, like even that took energy. “I think our commiseration might be killing us.”

The words hurt, like he was being cut open and left to bleed on the sand beneath him. It felt like being punched in the gut, or left without elucidation, losing someone when you thought they’d lose you first. Losing yourself, too. And Brendon didn’t want to lose Dallon but he didn’t want to lose himself, either, or whatever bit of personage he’d gained, but still, he didn’t know what that was and you couldn’t prioritize something so intangible and incohesive.

“I think you might be right,” Brendon agreed.

“So where does that leave us?” Dallon asked the question they found themselves asking over and over and over, finding each other slipping through their fingers and trying desperately to catch the remnants.

“I don’t know.” Brendon admitted. For months things had been so on and off, feeling like one second they were destined for failure and another like they were written in the stars. Because sometimes the stars were out and sometimes they weren’t, and Brendon always sat out looking at the sky waiting for them to move but they were waiting for him to move, and one was in the universe for a billion years and one was there for a fleeting second, not even two feet steady on the ground. “I didn’t know how bad you were, Dallon.”

“Because I’m good at hiding it. When you spend years hiding it, you become adept.” Dallon shrugged, and Brendon leaned his head on his shoulder as Dallon enveloped his hand in both of his own.

“I thought you were gonna be the first happy artist.” Brendon admitted, staring out at the trees beyond the lake in an unbalanced ecosystem where nothing made sense.

Dallon’s fingers flexed in between his. “Yeah? What’s the verdict on that?”

Tears slid down Brendon’s cheeks, reflecting the moonlight in a way that was almost beautiful if he wasn’t here, now. “I was wrong.”

“Yeah, you were.” Dallon agreed. Brendon’s theory had always been wrong. Artists weren’t happy. Pain and suffering was in their blood, mixed with paint and dirty water and the thick coating of resin on their veins. Dallon was an artist. It made no sense for him to be happy. It had to Brendon, once, but he was coming to terms with a lot of things. Sighing quietly, Dallon added, “I never wanted to hurt you.”

Brendon sniffled. “I know.”

“I know that I’m the one who keeps saying we need to be honest with each other. And I still mean that. It’s just... I have a hard time being honest about things like this because I don’t want you to be a part of that version of me. I’m not proud of it.”

“I’m not proud of a lot of versions of me either, Dallon.” Brendon said honestly, staring at the water in the dark. “And it scares me to not know important aspects of your life. Especially ones like that. I mean, we’re together almost every day, Dallon, and after being together for over a year, I just... I want you to tell me when you’re not okay. I don’t want you to be miserable all the time.”

“I’m not, Bren. It’s just...” He sniffled, trying to find his words. “I don't know how to explain it. I'm not always miserable. It's just... underlying. It's who I am. So sometimes I forget that. Because you're so good for me. But I'm still me. I still have depression. I still feel like a ghost sometimes. And because of— because of that, and because of all my loss, I feel like I don't know how to care about people in the right way. Or if I can at all. I feel like I don't feel things in the way that other people do."

Brendon wiped his nose with his hand and swallowed thickly. “So you hurt yourself to try and feel something.”

Dallon nodded, squeezing Brendon’s hand and making tears slip down his cheeks. “Yeah, Bren, I do. And I’m sorry. I don’t know how to stop.”

“I just hate that you hurt yourself.” Brendon cried, leaning in closer if it were possible to hear Dallon’s pulse because his being alive was important. “Because I love you and I need you alive. If I have to do this, then you do too.”

“I will, Brendon. I promise.” He linked their pinkies together and met his eyes when Brendon retracted his head to look at him, eyes teary and flickering over his features in the dark. Bathing in the most sublime blue, and Brendon trusted him. He trusted him too much sometimes. “I meant what I said. I’m still trying. Let’s just try together, okay? One day at a time.”

“Okay. One day at a time.” Brendon agreed, pulling him into a hug because he didn’t know what else to say. He was sick of not knowing whether or not they were going to be okay. He was sick of worrying. He just wanted to make promises they would both keep. “I love you too, you know.”

“I know.” Dallon whispered through tears, and Brendon squeezed his eyes shut until he pulled away. “Let me drive you home, baby.”

Brendon nodded, he didn’t want to have to bike all the way back, and let Dallon help him up. He looked up at the stars, watching them dance above him with a purpose, and he held Dallon’s hand as they disappeared under the trees. He had too many things to wish for, and not enough stars to do it.

As soon as he had gotten home and kissed Dallon on the cheek, a promise to see him soon, a promise he wasn’t going to break this time, he darted up to his room and grabbed his laptop, setting it down on his desk and pulling it open frantically. He knew he had it somewhere, the photo he had taken and saved on his computer. He shouldn’t have saved it, he shouldn’t have even read it, but he didn’t know better back then. He just wanted to know Dallon. That wasn’t the way to do it.

He found the photo in one of his folders, right there in plain sight, and he stared at it for a minute before he clicked it open. Dallon didn’t want him to do this. But he didn’t want Dallon to do a lot of the things he did, and he knew they swore to no secrets but Dallon didn’t have to know everything. Not when it would just hurt them. He clicked on the photo, and it filled the screen.

Spoiled rotten only child. Sheltered and coddled and living in a cradle. Seeking safety under covers. Spoiled rotten only child, torn abruptly from his home and set down in a broken one, cold and unfamiliar with cracks in the walls and cobwebs sewed to ceilings. Dark. Unforgiving. Spoiled rotten only child, never alone until he was.

“We’re here for you.” Words uttered in every conversation with fine intent though words have hundreds of permutations that all mean nothing because they’re all made up. Words mean nothing when you’re screaming louder than the one who is saying them.

A little raven-haired boy, one with his father's eyes and blind ambition. The wrong kind of ambition. Or maybe not ambition at all, rather an aspiration. An aspiration to be who he had become, as hope lost was never a lesson gained. A boy who never considered the consequences of his actions. A boy whose actions had consequences.

A little raven-haired boy who took a knife to the heart and managed to survive, though he wished he hadn't. Survival was a test of strength but not to a boy who had none of that left. Not to a boy who relied on others’ because his own had run out, though he hadn’t realized he was draining resources until everybody around him was left stumbling, breathless, just as desperate as he had been.

He wanted to fix it. He didn’t know how.

Everybody just wanted him to quiet down.

At the bottom of a well no one could hear you. That thought echoed in his head as his thoughts aloud echoed against cobblestone walls and he fell, long and hard, and hit the ground before he could catch himself. At the bottom of a well, no one could hear you. No one would listen, so there was no point in being heard.

A little raven-haired boy, beyond six feet under and withering away with old expectations because those died with his soul long, long ago. When it rained he drowned in his own abhorrence and seeped deep into the soil below, planting seeds that would never grow and doubt that managed to climb deep down just to leave scratches in his skin as he slept.

A boy who cared not about the people around him as they weren’t who he wanted. A boy who could still look up for miles and see the stars, just as he had done when he was a child, and wish to fix his mistakes though at the bottom of a well, no one can hear your prayers.

A boy who tried everything but found no solutions to problems he had selfishly made himself, esprit de l’escalier, as so many words had been left unsaid. Marks of improbity on his skin didn’t work and taking one too many pills left him with a javelin in his chest because there was simply no way to win. You either die corporally or walk around unchained to your cadaver, unrelinquished of your sins and still left to agonize.

An obdurate boy who neglected help because it wasn’t the help that he wanted. It wasn’t help that stopped the blood rushing in his ears and veins and heart, a useless organ after it had been broken already. And he hadn’t known that it could be killed twice, three times, four, each time slicing it open and leaving it bleeding but somehow not enough to drown him.

And his death was not distinct from the way he let misery envelop him. It was not dichotomous in the slowing of his pulse and the way it had once raced. The virulence of his head and the conviction that plagued it. The lachrymosity of his demise was his blame. Because self-medicating with destruction and isolation was a cruel intention and cruelty is the loudest sound.

Cynicism is harsh. Caskets are harsher.

Commiseration kills, but loneliness kills faster.

A little raven-haired boy, found dead, stuck at the bottom of a well.

Tears slid down Brendon’s cheeks and he wiped them away like dirt, staring at the screen in disbelief. The words didn’t sound like Dallon, his Dallon, the one he loved and knew and was going to live with in two months and maybe forever. These words were foreign, unhinged, and this couldn’t be his Dallon. But it was.

Brendon wanted to fix things, too. And he was going to try.

* * *

Brendon found it easy to throw himself into researching after he and Dallon talked. Because Dallon’s words had stung deep, but beyond that Brendon didn’t feel the same. Contrarily, their mental illness was shared but every aspect was distinct and dichotomous from one another, Brendon’s more cognizant to himself than his boyfriend’s. He didn’t feel dead. He just felt... numb.

So Brendon thought hard about it. Depression was a mental illness. A chemical imbalance. An unfortunate abnormality. It was scary, and exhausting, and difficult, and he was guilty and mad and the worst part was that none of it was under his control.

He spent hours on end staring at the ceiling. He scratched at his skin as if he could get out of it. He ignored calls and messages because he couldn’t find the energy to answer. It was exhausting, trying to find a reason for all of that. Slowly realizing that every aspect of his life was tied to it one way or another. Tethered to this sickness like it were holding him all together. Like that old game kids played, kerplunk. Like everything were just fragile plastic sticks holding up this heavy glass marble.

He couldn’t be put into a box because there was no box for him to be put into. He just wanted to find out why.

Under the covers in the middle of the night, he turned his brightness all the way down and squinted at the screen of his laptop, searching for his answers. Why do people have depression? Five simple words typed into the Google search bar started it all. It went from there. Is there a cure for depression? What are the best treatments for mental illness? Why do I have depression? Why do people want to kill themselves? Can you get addicted to your antidepressants? Depression triggers. Is PTSD linked to depression? Depression symptoms. Does depression make you think irrationally? Because for him, it sure as hell impaired his morals.

He kept a document on information because he didn’t want to forget it. This was his life now. He needed to keep track of what he knew and what he didn’t. He clicked page after page, in and out like lightning, trying to organize it but halfway through realizing that he didn’t know how. He was never good at organizing things. He’d always been wrong.

Psychology. The word flashed on the screen like a warning sign. He’d seen it before, in school and on TV and from his counselor, but this time it sunk deep. Psychology. The scientific study of the human mind and its functions. That was what this was. The way his brain worked. How everything he did and said and thought meant something. He wanted to keep that word in mind.

He found himself thirsty to know more. Relating every term he discovered to the things around him. It was invigorating. It wasn’t just about being educated. It was just fun. Learning about the way his mind functioned. What he held in his long-term memory. What neurotransmitters influenced his mental illness. He felt refreshed, almost, when he got back from his break.

“Hey. You’re not picking up Bren?” Ryan asked Dallon as he climbed into the passenger seat on Monday morning, dropping his bag on the floor in front of him.

“No, he was showing up late cause he was eating breakfast with his siblings and I wasn’t hungry. He said he’d have his dad drive him after. How was your break?” Dallon pulled out into the street, making sure he was in. He hadn’t picked Ryan up in a while, as Ryan gave his mom a break by taking the bus with his sisters to school each morning and Dallon found himself favoring the time spent with Brendon before school.

Ryan shrugged, busying himself with buckling his seatbelt. “It was okay. Spent some time in Summerlin. What about you? I’ve barely seen you.”

“Oh, y’know. I’ve been around. I didn’t do much.”

Ryan looked up, making himself comfortable. “Not even with Bren?”

“No, uh. We didn’t see much of each other after his birthday. Just trying to give each other some space. I’ve been tired, he’s been tired. And besides, I’m just... y’know. I’ve been a shitty boyfriend. I feel like he needed a couple of days off.”

“Come on, Dal. You’re not a shitty boyfriend.” Ryan tsked, smacking his arm. “You’re a great boyfriend. You just conceal it with some bad boyfriend behaviors.” Dallon looked at him emotionlessly. “Seriously! You’re way too hard on yourself. But there’s nothing wrong with taking a break. That’s what vacations are for, anyway.”

“Yeah.” Dallon agreed, not bothering to look at him, and didn’t tell him about what happened. That Brendon wanted to kill himself and when he couldn’t, tried to get rid of Dallon instead. He was always the common denominator. “I want coffee. I’m gonna stop somewhere.”

“Okay.” Ryan agreed, his eyes following Dallon’s movements. He didn’t push the subject further, though, just turned back to look at the road. Dallon didn’t talk about the truth when it hurt. He knew that.

Returning to school after his birthday felt... different, to say the least. Nobody but Dallon knew but he still felt exposed. Open. He was uncomfortable and tired and sick of being there, realizing that everybody and everything around him was just another factor. He just wanted to keep himself busy so he had no time for invasive thoughts or suicide. Routine. Busy, busy, busy.

He received his slip to see Ms. Kenny at their usual time, though he kind of forgot about their meeting after everything. He really could have used that hour of guidance on his birthday. He needed to talk all of this out. He’d spent days keeping it all to himself and he felt like he was going to implode. While it was hard to fit things into a box, nearing impossible, he figured that maybe she could help.

He made his way up the staircase and right into her office, the door already open. He shut it behind himself, waving gently. She nodded in a hello, gesturing for him to sit. “Hi, Brendon, how was your vacation? Your birthday was over it, wasn’t it?” He nodded, hesitant. He’d been trying to pretend it was all just a bad dream. “Happy belated birthday!”

“Oh, thanks. Um, yeah, it was... messy.” He let out a nervous laugh and sat down in his usual seat, placing his backpack on the floor beside him. He had to tell her. He promised Dallon that he would. “I didn’t really do anything all week. I hung out with Dallon and my friends and everything but mostly I spent time alone. I needed it. My birthday kind of sucked though. I was out with my friends and I had a panic attack so I had Dallon drive me home. Nothing specific was happening, I was just... overwhelmed, I guess.”

She tapped her fingernails along the desk, going to pull out her notebook as he watched. “I wonder if maybe there’s a reason why you keep having outbursts when you’re with your friends.”

He nodded compliantly, knew what she was doing but didn’t contend. She liked to word things so that he thought they were his idea. Just suggestions, not assumptions. He never mentioned it. “Um.” He looked down at his lap, starting to chip off his nail polish like it were habitual. “I think being in public places scares me now, you know? After the party and then what happened at school. Or maybe it’s always scared me. I’ve never, like, been completely comfortable out in the world. I wonder if it’s because I’m seeing everyone smiling and happy and living their lives and it reminds me that I’m not. Happy, that is. Living my life. Whatever.”

“And it’s hard for you to feel alone.” She concluded, filling in the blanks. That was what Brendon had been trying to summarize all week. He felt alone. He felt so stupidly alone, even when he knew he wasn’t.

“Yeah, exactly. I feel alone. And no matter what, I keep feeling alone and it won’t end. That’s why—“ He stopped and looked back down at his thighs, guilt settling on his features. God, how could he have done that? Who was he that night? “Um, I tried to break up with Dallon.” He peeked up to look at her face. “I didn’t, and we’re okay, but it... it was bad. I was having these invasive thoughts and I just kept thinking about how much I love him and don’t wanna hurt him. I— I feel like I’m ruining him.”

“Because of your mental illness?” She asked carefully, and waited for a nod. “And how does he feel about this?”

“He promised that that isn’t how he feels. And he’s smart, he knew why I was doing it, but we talked it over and he promised that things are gonna be okay. And I want to believe him. I really do.”

She leaned forward, an intimidating look in her eye. “So why were you doing it?” She asked, though her tone of voice said that she already knew. It was her guidance counselor’s intuition. He’d caught onto it months ago.

He remembered the promise he’d made to Dallon. Of course he remembered it. They both swore they’d get better for each other. Brendon said that he would tell his guidance counselor and his parents, that he’d try to get help. He said that, hadn’t he? Now he had to do it. He couldn’t keep breaking promises. “I— I’ve been thinking a lot... about suicide. And about how I’d be better off dead because I don’t matter. And I know that’s such a cliché thing to say but thinking about it comes so easily now. Like it’s the default my mind goes to when anything inconvenient happens. Like everything is just crossing the line. So on my birthday I almost tried, and then I just... didn’t. But then I kept thinking that I don’t want to live this life anymore. I don’t want to live... at all. And I’m just a burden to Dallon and everyone else. I mean, he’s an angel and he’s got so much potential and he’s so smart and I’m holding him back, even if he says I’m not. I am. So I broke up with him because I figured that if I do, then it wouldn’t hurt him as much if I killed myself.”

“That isn’t how it works, Brendon.” She intervened quietly, and he looked up to meet her eyes, fixated on his own like she needed him to listen. “I’m sorry you’re feeling this way, though, I really am. Have you spoken to your parents about this?”

He nodded promptly, recalling the conversation he’d had just hours after he broke Dallon’s and his own heart. “Yes. And they’re keeping a careful eye on me but I promise I’m not gonna do anything. I’m really trying not to. I’m being cautious with myself.”

“That’s good. I think this is something your parents deserve to know.” She leaned in again and met his eyes so intensely that he couldn’t look away. That guidance counselor face, the take this seriously face. How many times had he seen it in the past six months? “Suicidal thoughts and feelings are a common symptom of depression, as are they a frequent result of traumatic experiences, so I can’t say I’m surprised. What I can say, however, is that you’ve got a good support system, Brendon. You’ve got people who love and care about you, and you’ve got a future and so much potential.”

It meant something to hear that from someone he knew would never lie to him. Someone who took part in a secret part of Brendon’s mind that he never opened up to anyone else. Dallon knew Brendon like the back of his hand, reminded him of his worth, and that meant the world to him. But hearing Ms. Kenny say it meant a lot too, in a different way. The same genuineness, yes, but different nonetheless. “Thank you.”

She nodded sincerely. “I can see why you’re reacting to what happened the way that you are. From what I gather from our past meetings and my notes, you feel used. And with your mental illness, you feel broken. You feel as though you have no purpose anymore because you think that you’re ruined.” She looked up at him and he nodded. She read them off the page. He’d said them, so he must have meant them. “Which is why it made sense that you tried to end your relationship. You think you don’t deserve to be happy because there’s something wrong with you. It may be subconscious, and it may not be the case at all, but that’s my opinion.”

She always seemed to understand Brendon even when he was having trouble understanding himself. “I think you’re right,” Brendon said quietly, and that was as much of an admittance as anyone would get. He thought himself worthless. Disgusting, not pristine, bruised and fragmentary. Parts of him were missing and he’d never be able to find them again. He was like monopoly without the little metal playing tokens or a puzzle with missing pieces, scrabble without the blank spaces or operation without the parts. Nobody wanted anything with missing pieces.

She continued with geniality. “I want you to do so well, Brendon. I know you can. And I understand that you’re not feeling well and that you think the world is better off without you but I think that you just have to learn to adapt. Use your anger to motivate you. Show the world who’s boss. Because you’re a strong kid and you’ve been through a lot already and whatever life throws at you, you can conquer. I believe you can.”

And for some reason, that felt like enough. He didn’t know what to say, how to thank her, but the tears in his eyes were thank you enough. He doubted that things would be better anytime soon but she was right. He needed to adapt. Make the world his home despite the headaches and broken heart. He had his support system. He had people who believed in him. And to him, that meant something. It really did.

* * *

“How was your first day back?” Dallon asked that afternoon as Brendon climbed into the passenger seat without an invitation, just like routine. He slammed the door, leaned over to kiss Dallon’s cheek, almost got his eye instead. Routine.

“It was... a day.” He shrugged, tugging on his seatbelt as Dallon twisted up the heat a little as Brendon was perpetually cold. “But I’ve still got a boyfriend and I’m not dead, so. Doing better than last week.” He peeked up to catch the forced smile Dallon gave him. Things would probably take some getting used to. Maybe it wasn’t time for jokes yet. “How was your first day back?”

“It was a day.” He sighed, and Brendon frowned as he settled back into his seat and watched Dallon turn the steering wheel, pulling out of his spot. Dallon glanced at him as he turned into the street, staring just a little too intently until the light turned green and Brendon had to nudge him to go. “I missed you, you know. After... what happened, we didn’t talk much.”

Brendon caught the pause, and it stung. Did he think...? “That wasn’t intentional, I hope you know.” He said, and Dallon only shrugged, which meant that he didn’t know, and Brendon was worse than he thought. He reached out to put his hand on Dallon’s thigh, and watched a pair of shiny blue eyes flicker from the road to the chipped black nail polish. “I’m serious, Dallon. You’re still my boyfriend. You’re still my best friend. I was just busy for the rest of the week. Trying to screw my head on straight.”

“Okay. I know. I’m sorry. Just a little paranoid.” Dallon placed his fingers over Brendon’s and slid them into the spaces like they belonged, and they did. “I just... I know we fight a lot. And I give you a lot of shit. And I say a lot of stuff that I shouldn’t say and I treat you so bad sometimes and I don’t deserve someone as patient and perfect as you. But I really do love you, you know? Even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

“I know you do. I love you too, Dal. It’s normal to fight sometimes. Especially because we both fuck up so often.” He assured him. He didn’t want to end this over a fight or two. That just didn’t make any sense. Something monumental couldn’t be broken with just a few cracks. “As long as you don’t hold it against me, I won’t hold it against you.”

“Okay.” Dallon nodded slowly, trying to take it to heart. “Bren, can you promise me something?”

Brendon nodded without hesitance. “Anything.”

Dallon took a deep breath, unsteady, like he were about to burst out into tears if Brendon didn’t know better. He’d been in his head again, Brendon could tell. “If we ever break up for real— like, for some reason, if one of us fucks up, or if it’s distance or time or school or anything, Brendon, if we ever break up, can we stay friends? Because I... I don’t want to not have you in my life. I can’t imagine not having you in my life.”

That... wasn’t what he expected. He looked down at his lap, feeling his fingers twitch in Dallon’s like they were protesting. Never leave him. Never try to leave him. Never give him a reason to leave. And he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t. “I... I don’t know. I don’t know if I could be your friend. After everything, I mean.” Brendon said calculatedly, and Dallon turned to look at him with something unreadable in his eye. “You’re always gonna be my lover, Dal. You’re always gonna be there. No matter what happens, I don’t think I’ll be able to not love you. You’ll always be in my life. Of course you will. So I can’t promise that if we end things, I’ll ever fall out of love with you. But yeah, if by some fucked up twist of fate something happens, then we’ll keep it amicable.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Dallon tightened his grip on Brendon’s fingers as if to remind him that this was just a formality. After the week they had, the past few months, all the self-sabotage and unwanted invasions, he just had to make sure. And Brendon didn’t see a purpose in it, because he didn’t know anything in this world except for the fact that he needed Dallon Weekes in his life. He needed him at his worst and at his best, when he was screaming at him in the pouring rain or when he was smiling down at him in the softness of the morning. In the calm before the storm, he needed Dallon. Sure, it was a formality. But even after the storm, Dallon was still his.

“Sure, babe. But... look, you really mean that?” He inquired, shifting his body toward Dallon’s for interrogation. Dallon nodded, keeping his eyes on the road like he wasn’t talking about he and Brendon’s potential demise. “Really, though? Even if the reason we break up is because of me? What if I do something really bad?”

Dallon shrugged solemnly. “Then we’ll talk it out like mature adults, I guess. That’s how we do everything.”

“I guess.” Brendon agreed, folding his arms and sitting back in his seat. They could talk it out, but he knew Brendon. Brendon was irrational and stubborn and sometimes he wondered if maybe it would be all his fault. Make a mistake once, shame on him. Make a mistake twice, and, well, that was what they were having this conversation for. He couldn’t keep fucking up. He didn’t get so many strikes, and this wasn’t a game. At least not anymore. Talking it out like mature adults. Sure, why not? “I mean, even if I break up with you really irrationally in the middle of a thunderstorm after midnight because I want to make you hate me?”

Dallon looked toward him passively but didn’t let his eyes linger. He just shook his head in distress. “I’m not really there yet, so. Best if we just not bring it up.” His voice was oddly hollow, and Brendon hated being uncomfortable around him. He hadn’t been uncomfortable with Dallon in so, so long.

“Alright. Okay. Sorry.” Brendon put his hands out in surrender. No jokes about the breakup. He got it.

Dallon was quiet for a second, processing their agreement silently as Brendon wondered when it came to this. Having to metaphorically shake on how their relationship would end, if ever. They weren’t on solid ground anymore, and Brendon was scared of falling. “For the record, Bren, I hope it never happens.” Dallon added suddenly. Brendon glanced at him, surprised. “I mean, us, breaking up.”

“Me too, Dal.” He looked up at him with a half smile in adoration. Brendon was scared. He was so scared. Losing Dallon had become his biggest fear, and in the span of a few days he’d realized how likely that was. How dare he do what he did? Dallon turned to look him in the eye just then, and really, how dare he? Putting on a cheeky smile, Brendon added, “I’d rather die.”

Dallon let out a sigh, and Brendon smiled weakly as the former looked away, visibly distraught. “Brendon.”

“I’m sorry.” Brendon sat back in his seat and threw his hands out, what the hell was wrong with him? “I’m sorry, I just. I have to make jokes about it, Dallon. Because if I don’t then it’s gonna be real, and then I’m gonna have to think about it. I don’t wanna think about it.”

Dallon sighed again, under his breath as the car grew quiet, and he shook his head as if to say that it was fine, but he wasn’t happy. Who could be right now? “I’m just worried about you.”

“I’ve been worried about you too, Dallon, don’t ever fucking forget that.” He said with no malice, just truth, but a searing reminder of that part of Dallon that had made a mistake too. He nodded, he wouldn’t fight with him, so Brendon folded his arms. He didn’t want to fight, either. He was tired of fighting. “I’ve been thinking. And I know that’s a dangerous thing. Thinking. But I have been. And I think I need to figure out how to cope and how I feel and what this is. It’s scary and loud and I think it might be good to think about it.”

“As long as you aren’t shutting me out.” Dallon requested like it were so much more than it was. “I’ve been beating myself up over this, Bren. Trying to figure out what the hell is wrong. And I’m scared, and-“

“You’re good at worrying, Dallon. But don’t.” Brendon slipped his hand into Dallon’s and rubbed his thumb against his skin. “I’m okay. I promise. Last week was a lot. And I’m trying to figure things out. I just need to do that on my own terms. In my own ways.”

“That’s good. That’s a good idea.” Dallon agreed, squeezing Brendon’s hand like a stress ball. Brendon squeezed back, he’d missed him for the remaining days of his vacation, trying to take a break from each other to sort out his own feelings. He was still trying to figure out how. “I’m really sorry about the other day.” Dallon added suddenly as he pulled into the back lot behind the diner, making Brendon turn to catch his gaze. “What I told you.”

“No, Dal, I’m sorry.” Brendon apologized, because they’d been at each other’s throats for months trying to fix things but only making them worse. He didn’t want things to be that way. “I’ve been making everything about myself and I never thought about how triggering everything was for you.”

Dallon shook his head, and the engine died as all motion in his body did too. “No, I shouldn’t be talking like that to someone who...” He swallowed, words dying in his throat prematurely though Brendon knew. “I shouldn’t say that stuff to you. Not right now. You have enough going on, and I just-“

“Dallon, stop.” Brendon put a hand on his arm, shaking his head. “I get it. You’re allowed to be upset with me.” He shrugged, gesturing to himself. “I’m upset with me.”

“I’m not upset with you, I’m upset with me.” Dallon sighed, frustrated, and Brendon seemed taken aback when Dallon looked at him again with this unreadable look embellished in crystal blue eyes, ones that always seemed to get him. “I didn’t know you read that. And I wish I never wrote it. I shouldn’t have. And I shouldn’t have turned it in, or even thought it.”

Brendon shook his head again. He didn’t see what was wrong with it. He loved it. “It was beautifully written, Dallon.”

“It was a suicide note, Brendon.” Dallon snapped, not meaning to, and the words cut to bone, broke him open, unstitched things he thought were sewn shut for good. Brendon sucked in a breath but still felt winded and Dallon looked away, shaking his head. “I didn’t know what to say in my suicide note so I wrote that. Like, a few months before I tried the second time. I sound like such a fucking cliché.” He covered his face with his hands and didn’t dare to look at the tears welling up in Brendon’s eyes, or the look of shock, or the way he kept ruining everything because that was all he’d ever known.

“You— you never told me that...” Brendon said shakily, not knowing how to process it. He’d read his boyfriend’s suicide note. Before he even met him. He...

“How do you tell your boyfriend that you wrote a fucking suicide note as some shitty short story that you turned in for class credit?” Dallon asked in tears, laughing in spite of himself. Brendon sniffled, hated crying in front of him but was just so used to it by now. He wasn’t mad. He couldn’t find it in himself to be. He was just confused. Scared. He always was.

“Why did you?” He asked, twisting his body in his seat. “Turn it in, I mean.”

“I don’t know.” Dallon admitted, shrugging like it was all a moot point. And maybe it was. Maybe it didn’t matter because he was fine now, or because he realized the cruelty of his intentions, or because wanting to die was like a subscription you could never cancel. “Maybe as a final fuck you to this school that did nothing for me. Or a cry for help. I thought it was, anyway, but I got called up to guidance and had to talk to Ms. Kenny about my issues because they saw something wrong with me. Then I realized that I didn’t want people to care about me. I just wanted to die. It wasn’t a cry for help so much as a goodbye.”

Brendon’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, watching his hands unravel an invisible bundle of yarn. “Wait, you’ve talked to Ms. Kenny?”

“Yeah, She’s my guidance counselor too. That’s why she filed the report you made.” Dallon missed Brendon’s look of disbelief. “She called me to her office because Ms. Davis showed her the story and they gathered that I was hurting myself. They were really, really worried about me. Rightfully so, I guess, but submitting it was stupid. So was writing it. But I had this— this plan, where I was gonna turn it in, and at the end of the summer I would kill myself. And my mom would go in to tell them I was gone and they would say, he turned in this assignment last year, and she would read it and understand why I had to do what I did.”

Brendon shook his head slowly. It was a horrible plan, a terrible plan, because a short story about a heartbroken boy who made himself suffer to death was no legacy to leave. Dallon deserved to be remembered for good. He shouldn’t be analyzed and sized up and reduced to a one page assignment, a couple hundred words, because that wasn’t who he was. It was a moment of weakness. A long moment, a scary moment, but a moment, and Brendon was heartbroken too, but there was no point in leaving himself to die when things had potential to be okay again.

“I’m glad you’re still alive.” Brendon said suddenly. Dallon looked at him, eyes brimming with tears, and some of Brendon’s own slid down his cheeks. “I know I don’t say that enough but it’s true. I love you and I’m glad you’re alive.”

“I love you too.” Dallon enveloped him in a hug, burying his face in his hair when Brendon burrowed into his shoulder, holding onto him so goddamn tight because he was scared to see what would happen when he let go. “And I’m glad you’re alive too. And I don’t want to keep fucking up.”

“This is your past, Dallon. You’re not fucking up.” He promised, tears staining the shoulder of Dallon’s button-up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ever invaded your privacy when I didn’t even know you, and I shouldn’t have kept it from you. I just want to be honest with each other. I didn’t know anything was wrong.”

“It’s not anymore. I’m gonna be fine.” Dallon promised, running a hand over his cheek and letting fingers dance over wet, pale skin, flawed and flushed red with anguish because he was scared of what would happen to them if they kept getting caught in so many gunfights. “Hey, I’m gonna be fine. So are you. We’re gonna be fine. Okay?”

Brendon sniffled. Tried to believe it. “Mhm.”

“Okay. Just focus on getting better, Brendon. I will too.” He pressed a kiss to his forehead until Brendon leaned into him again, wiping at his face and hooking a chin over his shoulder. He wanted to try. He just didn’t know how. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” He pulled away, leaning back and rubbing his eyes. He was alright. He had to be. There was no use in worrying about it. “Yeah, I’m alright. It’s okay.” He assured him, though he didn’t even really try to sound honest, and Dallon leaned forward to observe him for a minute, like he were just able to feel his anxiety. He’d become adept at being able to tell.

“I’m completely failing at this boyfriend thing.” Dallon sighed, throwing his head back against the seat like he’d just suddenly realized. “I’m sorry. All I do is fuck up and get mad at you because I can’t take the blame.”

Brendon played with his hands, looking over at him in distress. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve been doing the same thing.” He figured, not as in denial as he thought he’d be. That was why they were here, right? They both kept fucking up. There was no use in hiding it anymore.

Dallon shook his head, something unreadable in his gaze. “No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad at you. I shouldn’t have yelled at you for confiding in your counselor and I shouldn’t have been upset when you had my best interest at heart. I feel so guilty for being mad. I was just upset that I had to confront something that was wrong with me. That was my mistake. It has nothing to do with you. I was just pissed off at myself for dragging you into it. I never should have hurt myself in front of you. I never should have told you.”

“I’m glad you did.” Brendon interrupted, making Dallon meet his eyes with pain and blame clear in his own. “I’ve been mad at you before, Dallon. I get it. Couples fight. Especially couples who have mental illnesses and a lot of unresolved issues. I’m surprised we aren't more unstable. Us fighting... it has no influence on what I did. Or almost did. And me trying to break us up was the same as you trying to hurt me so that I’d leave you. We’re scared of losing each other so we jump at the first thing one of us does. We’re gonna ruin us because we’re so paranoid.”

“I know. And I’m trying to tell myself that it’s not gonna happen but then the other day happened, and you tried to break up with me, and it just reaffirmed all my fears.” He admitted, voice breaking, but holding back tears. He didn’t want to guilt Brendon anymore. Brendon was already guilty.

He took a deep breath, trying to configure it all in his head. They fought. They made up. They made promises they didn’t know how to keep. Now what? “Dallon. Let’s just... let’s make a deal. Let’s promise to try and trust each other, and to talk things out if we have a problem. Because no matter how many disagreements we have, or what I tell my counselor, or whatever we do to mess with each other, I still think that we have something really strong. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t be here. So please, Dallon. Let’s just trust each other. Even if it’s hard.”

“Okay. Yeah. Promise.” He linked his pinky with Brendon’s, shook it, tried to let it seep in to hit bone. “I’m glad you told Ms. Kenny what you told her, though.” He added, letting go of Brendon’s cold extremity. “I talked to her and told her that I’m reaching out for help and that I lied to her when I told her I didn’t know what you were talking about. If I’m going to be honest with you then I need to be honest with myself too. Even if that gets me into some trouble. I wanna do better.”

Brendon’s eyes softened as they searched blue ones for any sign of a lie but there wasn’t any. Dallon tried not to lie to him. Brendon was speechless, looking at him like he had done so much more than he had, but to Brendon, reaching out for help was much bigger and braver than anything else he could do. “You did that?” He asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, Bren.” He sighed, as if he had never meant to tell him though Brendon couldn't see why he wouldn’t want to. “I love you. And I don’t wanna lose you over something like that. Not a stupid argument or invasive thoughts or anything, baby, okay? I wanna try to make it work. I wanna get better and be able to be happy with you.”

“I can’t believe you did that.” He shook his head, he couldn’t seem to find any words, and reached out for another hug. “That’s a really big deal, Dallon.”

Dallon nodded gently, rubbing his back and staring at himself in the reflection of the window. Blue eyes gleamed back at him and he tightened his grip, vowing not to let this go. “I wanna recover. For real this time.” He said, staring himself in the eye like he were daring the old him to come and get him.

Brendon pulled away, a look of defiance in his eye. It felt like a joke or something. Deciding that here on out, he was going to care. Like all of a sudden it was a priority to get better. “Then let’s recover. Let’s try.” He announced like it were an event, but Dallon nodded in agreement. Promised he would try too.

He linked his pinky with Dallon’s again, and somehow, it felt final.

* * *

Brendon pushed through the heavy door in front of him, breathing labored after two flights of stairs, and headed down the hallway past a bunch of freshmen until he reached the door, paper crafts hanging from it and a “welcome!” sign. It was open, so he walked straight in, didn’t bother knocking, and Ms. Kenny looked up from her desk. “Hi, Brendon. Is everything okay?”

“I didn’t know you see Dallon.” He said in lieu of a greeting in something of an accusation, staring down at her with betrayal written on his face.

“I have students with last names T through Z.” She said like it were obvious, and sure, it made sense, but they talked all the time, she knew things he didn’t even want to say to Dallon, he told her things about Dallon, and shouldn’t be have known?

“But... I talk about him. And our relationship. And you talk to him too. You know everything that I shouldn’t even know about him, right? I mean, he said that you guys have called him up to talk before. You talked to him after I supposedly reported him. I didn’t know that was because you were his counselor too.”

She sighed, rubbing at her temples while an antsy Brendon took a seat. “It’s my job to know. And to ensure my students’ safety. And my conversations with you are free of bias, Brendon. As much as they can be. I don’t contribute with information I know about Dallon because I’m not allowed to breach his privacy.”

“I know, but... it’s weird. That you’re like my therapist and you see the person I talk about most in here.” He whined, but realized that he sounded like a petulant child when he said it.

“Well, you’re opposed to getting a therapist, yes?” He nodded, seeing her point but pouting nonetheless. “Then talking with me is a fine alternative, but I’m a high school guidance counselor, Brendon. Dallon is one of my students by chronology and I have to make sure that he’s okay. Aside from that, I rarely speak to him. I check in once in a while to make sure he’s doing okay, given the circumstances, but-“

Brendon’s eyes widened in realization. “You know about all that stuff?” He asked in disbelief.

She sighed again, and Brendon knew he was being annoying, he knew, but he didn’t care. “I’m not at liberty to discuss another student’s information.”

“He’s my boyfriend!” He insisted.

“He’s still another student, Brendon, and what I know about him has to stay between me and him. We shouldn’t even be having this conversation.” She argued, and he wondered briefly if he could convince her, or bribe her, or ask Dallon to sign some agreement saying Brendon could know. But that didn’t make any sense. Dallon hid for a reason.

“Okay. Fine.” He got up, wanting to cry though he didn’t really know why, and shrugged dramatically. “I just don’t wanna worry about him hearing things that I tell you in confidence. We’re fragile enough as it is.”

“I won’t, Brendon.” She promised, crossing her heart for reassurance. “Legally I’m not even allowed to. You have my word. You can trust me. I’m here to help you, not hurt you.”

It was nice to hear that once in a while. “Okay. Thanks. I’m gonna go. I’ll see you later.” He headed back toward the door and she watched him go, wondering where this was coming from. She just had no idea.

Brendon headed back down the staircase, his throat feeling tight, and he couldn’t help but wonder.

* * *

Dallon pinched the slip of paper between his index finger and thumb, the wedding band around his thumb today— he liked to switch it up. He moved past a group of seniors and kept his head down, always having been intimidated by those older than him. They looked up at him as he sped by them, fearing that they could read his mind. Detect his secrets.

He never saw the guidance counselor. Never. So why was he here now? Why did he suddenly get called out of class without a warning to talk to someone he barely knew about God knows what, up in a tiny room with no witnesses? He was wary as he knocked on the door, opened it, stood in the doorway awkwardly for a second as his counselor told him to come in.

Dallon closed the door behind himself quietly and Ms. Kenny sat up, smiling, though he wasn’t smiling back. “Hi, Dallon! Take a seat.”

He approached her cautiously, not trusting any of this because he never had a reason to trust people of authority. “What am I doing here?” He asked uneasily.

“Oh, you’re not in trouble, don’t worry.” She waved a hand at him dismissively, but that wasn’t his question. There was a reason he never talked to his guidance counselor.

“What am I doing here?” He repeated, more forceful this time.

She stared at him for a second before she sighed, reaching into a folder and pulling out a single piece of paper. She extended her hand to him, and he stilled for a moment as he saw his name typed on the top, underneath the words ‘At the Bottom of a Well’. Fuck. Oh, fuck. “You turned this short story into Ms. Davis’ English class for your final project a few days ago. And as you’ve entered this school you’ve been through a lot; we have your medical history and... you know. We know that you were held in a psychiatric ward two summers ago.” That was not fucking fair. “And we’ve been keeping an eye on you, but this... you’ve been having lunch alone in the library for months. Your grades aren’t as proficient as they used to be and most of your work is satirical. And you haven’t been spending time with your usual group, your teachers have mentioned you arguing with your friends, and there are warning signs we’re seeing, and-“

“So everyone’s just been spying on me?” He interrupted, because he didn’t need to hear about all the goddamn warning signs. He’d heard them all before.

She stopped, staring back at him with sympathy written all over her face. “We’re worried about you, Dallon.”

Worried about him? They should be. “You don’t have to be. I’m fine.”

She sighed again, because as a guidance counselor she must had heard a thousand times the lie as old as time, I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine, but no high schooler was fine. Nobody who has been introduced to the world was fine. “Dallon, we’ve talked to your mother about your mental health.” She admitted, and Dallon looked up all of a sudden, seething. She was a traitor. She betrayed him. He told her he was fine, so what the hell was she going around talking about him for?!

“So?”

“So, you wrote a story about a little boy dying.” She figured. And okay, he could see where that would be troubling. Only it was a story, something he half-assed in the dark through tears one night, a poem in one hand and a plan in the other. Stupid fucking Ms. Davis. Stupid fucking drunk drivers and depression and family and feelings, he was so goddamn sick of having feelings. This wasn’t what he had planned.

“Exactly! It’s a story! A morbid one, maybe, but it’s fictional. It’s not about anyone.” He argued, throwing his hands up. He knew he shouldn’t have turned it in but something in him needed to, something sitting heavy on his chest. He needed to. Somebody had to hear him. Lying through his teeth, he insisted, “It’s not about me.”

“Dallon, I’m not sure about this.” She put her head in her hands, and he looked away, because they couldn’t possibly do anything about this. They couldn’t prove this was a suicide note. They couldn’t prove anything. He just wrote a story for a class project and it happened to be disturbing and sad and alarming. Was that his fault? “If you’re hurting yourself and we don’t report it then this can be a liability, Dallon. This can be so bad.”

Bad for who? The people who would end up being reprimanded for not noticing when a student cried for help? Their guilty conscience for something they couldn’t control? They weren’t going to get in trouble. Dallon was the only liability here. “You get me hurting myself from this one stupid little story? This fictional story?” She stared back at him, and he added, “I get it. I do. It makes sense. You know about everything that happened to me, you stalk me, whatever. But you can’t accuse students of stuff like this on a whim! It’s not fair!”

“Okay, Dallon.” She sighed, and he crossed his arms. “Then I’m trusting you.” She stared at him for a long second before she nodded her head toward the door. “You can go.” And with that he jumped up, grabbing his bag, and as he started to leave she added, “Be careful this summer, okay?”

Dallon nodded, though he had no plans to. “Yeah. Sure.”


	62. Chapter 61: Play God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A past chapter!! Also, a graphic suicide attempt scene, so please please be careful while reading!

Dallon touched his face with one finger, and then all of them, poking at his freckles and acne and his eyes, they were too big, and his long eyelashes, people used to make fun of him sometimes because he looked too feminine, and his nose didn’t fit with the rest of his face. His shoulders slumped, depleted, and he turned in his seat with a sigh.

“Do you think I’m ugly?”

Ryan looked up at him, closing his notebook over his fingers and raising his eyebrows like it were the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “There is no part of you that’s ugly, Dallon.”

“I don't know.” Dallon huffed, pushing his bangs down and then up, though he looked childish either way. “I have a girly face. But like, a baby face. I have a baby, girly face.”

“Dal, stop. That doesn’t make you ugly. It’s not a bad thing. I mean, when you’re older you’ll look younger. And besides, people think feminine features are attractive.” He smiled hopefully when Dallon frowned. “Seriously! It’s psychologically proven, I’m pretty sure. You’re not ugly. Trust me.”

Dallon sighed, turning back to his mirror. He didn’t know about that.

“I came to a conclusion today.” Dallon said that evening when his dad was making dinner, picking at the vegetables on the board that his dad had been chopping at before he went to check the oven. He turned to look at his son, and Dallon added, “I am the least attractive person I know.”

His father rolled his eyes, returning to the chopping board and swatting Dallon’s hand away. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious!” He argued, and his dad looked up at him again, raising an eyebrow. “I’m serious, daddy.”

“You are fourteen. You’re not supposed to be attractive. Not that you aren’t. I happen to think that you’re very handsome.” He pointed his knife at Dallon, and the boy stared back at him, looking bored. “Hey, don’t let your mother hear you say any of this. She’ll have a fit. She’s obsessed with you, Dallon.” At that Dallon almost smiled, and his father added, “I mean it. She’s always wanted a son. Her whole life. You are, quite literally, a miracle. So stop putting yourself down.”

“What are you two talking about?” Dallon’s mother asked as she headed into the room, going to kiss her husband on the cheek and patting a dejected Dallon on the back.

“Dallon is just having a little bit of self-esteem issues.” His father said, and Dallon looked at him with doubt because it was more than that. He hated himself. That wasn’t just self-esteem issues. “Dal, you’re fourteen. You realize every fourteen-year-old thinks the same exact way?”

“No they don’t.”

“They do, baby.” His mom supplied; she always backed him up. It was starting to become unfair. “What are you worried about now?”

Dallon looked between she and his father and only shrugged, thinking about what he said. She didn’t need the stress. It was better if he just kept it all to himself. “Nothing. Nevermind. I’m just in a bad mood, I guess.” He lied, but then again it wasn’t that much of a lie. He was in a bad mood. He was just always in a bad mood.

“It’s just teenage angst, Dal. You’ll grow out of it.” She assured him, patting him on the back supportively. He didn’t know how to tell her how he was feeling. He never did. He just lied and kept praying that things would change.

“I guess.” He agreed, but didn’t say he’d been feeling that way his whole life. There were some things parents just shouldn’t know. “Is dinner ready?”

“Ten minutes. Go wash your hands.” His dad gestured toward the hallway so Dallon went, if only to get away from his parents before they caught that look in his eye. “Dallon.” He added, and Dallon turned to look at him. “It’s gonna be fine, kid. Everyone has bad days.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, swallowing tears. “It’s just a bad day.”

* * *

He turned over in bed and made a noise of discontent as he heard footsteps traipsing through the apartment. He didn't know the time but it was late, he'd fallen asleep somewhere in between reading that shitty book for English class just as the sky had begun to fade. Was it past midnight? His digital alarm clock had long since stopped working, and now he was left in the dark as the doorknob began to turn and he heard the footsteps grow closer.

"Dallon." His mother's voice rushed out, and as he blinked slowly he felt a hand on his arm. "Dal, baby, wake up."

"Mmm." Dallon shifted away from her and rolled onto his side, but she crouched down and leaned in to wake him. It was late, and he was tired.

"Dallon, we have to go to the hospital right now. Get up." At that, he looked up to see her eyes wide with tears, and all at once he knew it wasn't right. Something had happened. He sat up in bed, and without an explanation she fled his room, still dressed in her pajamas.

He didn’t have time to change. He didn’t have time to tie his shoes. He just followed his mother out and to the elevator, confused, and sat in the passenger seat of her car with a sporadically beating heart until she pulled up right by the emergency room doors.

And he ran, and there was beeping, and there were white sheets and apologies and forms to fill out.

As he sat alone in the hallway he squinted down at his sneakers, black low top converse, these ones that his father bought him for Christmas because his old ones fell apart. His father. He’d be home soon. He had to be.

His mom told him to sit there. Didn’t want him to know the details. He had already heard too much.

He listened to the faint sound of monitors in the distance. His head hurt, he hadn't gotten enough sleep, and he took in a deep, shuddering breath as he sat back in his seat, holding onto the edge of it tightly.

There were two chairs in the middle of the hallway, pressed against the wall in between two rooms. It was a strange placement. Two chairs. Like the hospital knew they were coming. Like this were inevitable from the day that the hospital was built.

He looked up at his mother as she spoke with a doctor, tears staining her cheeks as she nodded along to whatever he was saying. Dallon couldn’t read lips. He wished he could, but then again maybe he shouldn’t know. He bumped the toe of his sneaker against the shiny linoleum floor. It was past midnight now, probably almost one. He needed rest. So did she.

He couldn’t find a clock. He didn’t have his phone. He just sat there, staring unseeingly at the wall, until a door opened loudly and doctors rushed through, calling out terms no one else understood. They wheeled somebody on a gurney down the hall, through another set of doors, but Dallon’s heart pounded loud in his chest when he realized.

That was normal around here. The truth hit him so hard that suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

* * *

The doorbell rang ten times before Ryan reached the front door. Nobody was home, and he hated answering when he was alone, it was always those stupid salesmen or someone trying to convince him to go to church, as if he needed to. The doorbell rang again, and again, and again, and he pulled open the door.

"What the fuck do you-"

"My dad died."

Ryan stopped, it was Dallon, and that wasn't right, that couldn't be- "What?" He asked, dropping his hands by his sides.

"My dad died." He repeated, choking on his tears, and Ryan pulled him into a hug because he didn't know what to say. Dallon shuddered, his body trembling as he tightened his grip.

“Dallon.” Ryan whispered, pressing his nose to his shoulder. Feeling tears well up in his eyes as he couldn’t find it in him to let go. “Come in.” He pulled away, guiding him to the stairs. “Hey, go to my room. I’ll be right there. I’m gonna get you some water.”

“Yeah.” Dallon sniffled, and began to head upstairs as Ryan went to fill a glass with water, his hands shaking. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real.

Dallon was in Ryan’s bed when he got upstairs, closing his bedroom door behind himself and setting the water down on the side table. "Are you okay?" Ryan asked quietly, patting Dallon's leg as he curled up underneath the covers. He shook his head, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He wasn't sure that he was ever gonna be okay. Who could be okay after something like this? “Does your mom know you're here?"

"No." He sniffled, accepting Ryan’s hand when he reached out for him. "No, my grandma came from Salt Lake to see us. My mom is with her right now. I just... I needed to get away from that house. I’m so fucking overwhelmed right now.”

“I get it.” Ryan squeezed his hand, looking down at their fingers, at the ring he recognized as Dallon’s father’s. “Do you... do you wanna talk about what happened?”

He nodded his head gently like it ached. “Mhm.” He tugged him closer and moved back to give him space, urging Ryan to lay beside him. He did; Dallon’s eyes glistened in this way that made everything hurt. He knew Dallon, knew his family. Knew his father. It couldn’t be real. Dallon shifted, pressing his knee to Ryan’s. “At almost midnight we— we got this call from the hospital. My mom woke me up. It was like... like some fever dream. I didn’t understand. She didn’t tell me anything. She was just panicking, and... and I was just thinking about how tired I was. I was trying to do homework and I fell asleep. And then I started thinking about the test I have next week. And that my dad said he’d help me study for it. And then we went in, and they told my mom that a drunk driver hit him and he was dead on impact. She made me sit in the hall cause she didn’t want me to hear anything else.”

“Oh.” Ryan winced, letting his eyes fall shut painfully as he lay a hand gently on Dallon’s side. “Fuck, Dal. I don’t even know what to say.”

“I don’t need you to say anything. I just need you to be here.” He told him, but his voice cracked and Ryan shifted to wrap an arm around him.

“I’m here. It’s okay.” He whispered, though it wasn’t okay, it was a stupid phrase that wasn’t ever true, and Dallon buried his face in his shoulder. “I’m here.” He promised, his hand holding the back of his head. He was there. He was there. That was what Dallon needed. But a tear slipped out anyway, and he let it dry on his cheek.

* * *

Dallon tugged restlessly at the cuff of his sleeve, making a noise of dissent like a frustrated child because right now, he felt like one. He glared at himself in the mirror. He looked stupid. He looked stupid, a lanky, too tall, too dorky fifteen-year-old wearing a suit that his mother told him to put on. His father never liked suits. He was always a casual kind of man.

He shouldn't have been there. He should have been at home, listening to his father talk about the news and working on his end of the year homework in the chair in the corner, one month until the end of the school year and his last summer before his freshman year started. And he'd tell him to stop rambling, if he cared about the news he would watch it too, and his mother would tell both of them to shut up because she was trying to read. That was just the way they worked. Coexisting and somehow managing to make it work regardless of the chaos, perhaps too much for a family of three but not unfavorably so.

He stopped the motions of his hands to look himself in the eye in the big, round, lit up mirror, above a granite sink with those expensive soaps on the side. Everything felt so out of place. He felt out of place, too. These huge, bright blue eyes while everything surrounding him was so dark. He'd gotten those eyes from his father. That felt wrong now, wearing his features now that he was gone. Like he had robbed him of them. Silly, maybe, and irrational, but he couldn't help but feel at fault sometimes. Most of the time.

He sighed, going back to pulling at the cuff and staring down at his stupid shiny black shoes on the marble floor. Why was everything so fancy? Why were there golden towel hangers on the walls and vases of flowers on the sinks as if anybody was spending more than a minute or two in the bathroom? Except for Dallon, of course, who had disappeared for just about ten minutes, feeling suffocated and like he needed to get out. Everyone in black, tears in their eyes, telling him that they were sorry when they had no idea how he felt. He felt like he couldn't breathe in there anymore.

The sound of the bathroom door opening suddenly caught his attention and he startled, averting his gaze toward the door where Ryan tried to smile at him, assisting the door in gently falling shut so not to make a noise. "Hey." He said quietly, making sure they were alone before he approached him. "There you are. I've been looking for you."

"Oh. I just..." He looked away from comforting brown eyes, didn't really know how to be comforted right now. "I needed a break. It's too much. I'm just trying to fix my stupid fucking sleeves but I can't and I feel like I'm suffocating and I just—"

"Here, let me." Ryan shushed him gently, reaching out to cradle his hand and tugging at his sleeve. Dallon threw his head back to look at the ugly ceiling of the too fancy bathroom, exhaling in a tremulous breath, and he felt sick to his stomach, confined, strangled, and this couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening. "How you holdin' up?" Ryan asked, because it felt like the right thing to ask, though Dallon didn't even know how to answer. He wasn't okay, if that was what he was asking. It wasn't really hitting him either, though.

Instead, Dallon asked, "Why do you think this bathroom is so fancy?" Ryan raised an eyebrow but said nothing, folding up his cuff. "Like, who's gonna spend enough time in the bathroom to care about all these dumb minor details? Whose great idea was it to put such a fancy bathroom in a funeral home? I don't think the dead care about fancy soaps."

Ryan let out a huff like it were supposed to be a laugh but had deflated. A pity laugh, a sympathy laugh, not even a laugh because nothing was funny right now. "So aside from your stupid fucking sleeves and your weirdly adamant feelings on the fancy bathroom...?"

Dallon shook his head and barely looked at him, instead turned to look at the wall unseeingly. "I don't know, Ryan." He sighed, and his voice didn't sound like his own. "This is weird. This is totally foreign to me. I feel like I'm gonna get in my mom's car and go home and he's gonna be there. He has to be there. Things like this don't happen to people like me. I don't understand how this happens in real life. It just doesn't feel real. How is this real?"

He shook his head slowly, trailing his fingers down Dallon's wrist and looking down at the ring on his finger. "I don't know, Dal. I really don't. I wish it wasn't, but..." He trailed off, not knowing what to say because at this point nothing would help.

Dallon looked down at his too shiny shoes on the too clean bathroom floor and tears slipped down pale cheeks, leaving wet trails in their wake. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be home. “It’s not fair. That’s what I don’t get. How can something like this happen to somebody who did nothing to deserve it? How— how could God let an innocent person die? I don’t-“ He cut himself off with a sob and Ryan enveloped him in a hug, helping him down to the floor. “It’s not fair.” He cried, his grip on Ryan’s forearms tight as he hugged him.

“I know, Dal.” Ryan whispered, because he was right. It wasn’t fair. It didn’t make sense. The wrong place at the wrong time. Whatever it was. There was no reason for it. That was the hardest part to cope with. “I’m so sorry.”

Dallon cried loudly as he turned to muffle it in his chest, leaving tears on his black button-up though Ryan didn’t mind. He rubbed his arm, holding him, crying too, and he didn’t know how to apologize or what to say to make him feel any better at all. There wasn’t anything. He knew that. He just had to say something.

“It’s gonna be okay.” He whispered, the worst thing he could possibly say, and the too fancy bathroom felt suffocating as Dallon cried in his arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish I knew what to say to you. I wish there was something I could do. But I love you, and I’m here for you, and I’m sorry.”

Dallon shuddered, searching blindly for his hand until Ryan took it. “I couldn’t cry in front of my mom.” He admitted, every word shaky. He needed to be strong for her. Wear his ring like a badge of honor, stand beside her and greet every guest and accept condolences as pieces of him broke with every handshake. He didn’t want to cry in front of her. He couldn’t.

“You can cry in front of me.” Ryan whispered, and he held Dallon tight as he trembled.

“Thank you.” He said, and the words meant more.

“Yeah.” Ryan breathed out, burying his face in Dallon’s hair. It’s gonna be okay. What a stupid thing to say.

* * *

The light peeked through his closed blinds, casting a shadow on the wall.

It seemed off white. Not like it normally did. He wondered if he had just never noticed or if it was the light. Photos and drawings were plastered all over the wall, but he stared at them unfocused. Saw a blur of colors until it became too much, and then he just closed his eyes.

There was a quiet knock on the doorframe and he shifted, pulling his blanket tighter around him. “Hey, babe.” His mother greeted gently. Cautiously. “Are you gonna try going to school today?” Dallon shook his head, not even bothering to turn to look at her, even when she let out this minuscule sigh. “Okay. I’ll call you in.” She told him, hoping for an answer.

She looked at him for a long second and pulled his bedroom door almost all the way shut behind her when he didn’t respond. He couldn’t find it in him to feel bad, either. He didn’t need school. He didn’t need to talk. He didn’t have the energy to.

He hadn’t talked to her in days. Ryan or Josh, either. There was only one person he wanted to talk to and couldn’t. Boys who talked to the sky got nothing out of it, and he wasn’t sure how much he believed that anymore anyway.

He pulled his blanket up higher, covering his chin, and his stomach ached deep as his arm started to numb. He was already numb all over, though. He didn’t move.

“Hi, this is Leann Weekes.” He heard his mother’s voice from down the hall, his door left ajar. “Yeah, Dallon will be out again today. Probably for the rest of the week.” At that he closed his eyes, torn between being upset that she’d assume and thankful for saving him the trouble of reopening that wound every day. “Yeah. Thank you. It’s pretty hard on both of us... I agree. Thanks. Have a good one. Bye.” She hung up the phone and sighed deep from her chest.

He tightened his grip on the blanket, and his arm went numb.

* * *

Birds chirped outside and the July air was warm and sweet, rising from the desert mountains and cocooning the city in yet another heat wave. But the air conditioner rattled in the Weekes’ living room window, and Dallon stood in the middle of the hallway, staring and squinting at nothing. Dust floating in the sunshine, maybe, or the shape in the wood that looked like a duck, or that one nail sticking out near the wall that his mother swore she was going to fix. He stared, and the house was silent.

That was the best time to do it.

He didn’t have to go through the cabinet because he knew what he was looking for. Painkillers. Some people used them to feel alive. He was using them to die.

He’d pushed them in the back of the medicine cabinet about a week ago, behind a box of bandaids and his mother’s vitamins. It felt symbolic, in a way. Painkillers. Like those would fix a broken heart. They wouldn’t, they never had, but he could pretend. And it really wasn’t that meaningful, he just had them and they weren’t being put to use in any other way. It was just easy. Simple. Everything he did these days felt that way.

He held up the bottle in a toast to himself in the mirror, here’s to fifteen years. Fifteen good years, or at least fourteen; the only three months he’d had of fifteen left him shattered, as he hadn’t been expected to let things hit him so soon. He wanted typical high school angst. Crushes on popular boys and embarrassingly getting answers wrong in class and trying to avoid bullies with his head down in the hall as any other fifteen-year-old did. This wasn’t what he wanted.

So he held the bottle in a toast, a toast of too many leftover pills because a sprained ankle could never hurt as bad as a loss.

Fourteen years. It really wasn’t that many.

He poured them out in his hand, making sure not to let them spill. A couple dozen, there were, and he filled his mouth with them, head spinning already because he was doing it. He really was. He didn’t have to lie anymore. They didn’t have to worry about him.

He cupped water from the faucet in his hands to wash the pills down, more and more until the bottle was empty and his stomach felt sick, and his hands were wet as he shakily twisted the faucet off and dropped the empty bottle, letting it hit the ground as he slid down against the bathtub. He hit the floor, eyes glossed over as he stared unseeingly at the door left ajar.

He closed his eyes, and said his silent goodbyes as he waited.

“Dal, I’m home!” His mother’s voice called from the front door soon after and in his hazy state he felt like a child again, swaying gently as he hugged himself tight. Like he was just a kid, and his mom got home from work, bringing a candy bar from Grandma Daisy’s like she did every Friday and pretending to be mad when her husband let Dallon sneak it before dinner. Dallon, their Dallon, their miracle baby. None of this felt like a miracle. It all felt in vain. “Dallon?” She called again, confused at the lack of reply.

He snapped back to reality and his mother’s voice seemed to echo down the hall, the sound of keys jingling and the front door closing. The creak of the foyer’s loose floorboard and the sound of her shoes against the wood. She wasn’t supposed to be home. She was supposed to come back later. He thought he had more time. This wasn’t the plan. He’d hugged her goodbye that morning for a reason.

He tried to scramble to shut the bathroom door but he doubled over in pain and swallowed down bile, he wouldn’t puke, he couldn’t, not after everything, and he let out a whimper as a sharp pain shot through his stomach. He heard footsteps down the hall and he shook his head, crying now, she wasn’t supposed to see this, not until it was too late. She wasn’t supposed to-

He leaned back against the bathtub in pain and tears slid down his cheeks pathetically when she saw him, feeling confronted and guilty already.

“Dallon.” She cried, mortified, as the boy sobbed on the floor with his legs pulled to his chest, waiting. He thought she’d be out longer. He thought this would happen faster. He should have locked the door. He didn’t want her to see him like this. “Oh my god, Dallon, what— what are you doing? What did you do?”

She dropped to her knees and he pulled away from her touch, shaking his head frantically and curling in on himself. “I wanna die!” He sobbed, denying her help as she tried to get his face in her hands, get her fingers down his throat, something, anything.

“Dallon.” She pleaded desperately, and he was dizzy, shaking his head and not comprehending what he was saying, but his voice sounded foreign to himself. Yelling at her to get out, to leave him alone. To leave him to die because that was what everybody wanted anyway.

She fumbled with her phone in her pocket and he was lightheaded, so lightheaded, as he pulled away from her, trying to put up a fight. She dialed 911 frantically and he sobbed like a child that needed to be cradled, nestled in the corner between the tub and the sink and trying to disappear, backing against it until he couldn’t anymore.

“Stop.” He argued, feeling drowsy, and reached out for her cell phone as his vision blurred. She pulled it back toward herself, staring up at him with big eyes. Not having expected him to argue. As if he would want help. As if he had a reason to get help.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“My son, he— he took too many pills.” She told the operator frantically and Dallon cried, holding both fists against his chest and trembling.

“Stop!” He sobbed, voice broken.

Tears slid down her cheeks. “Please hurry. He’s still awake, but—“

“What’s your name and location?” The operator interrupted.

She was in a panic as she searched the room for blood, vomit, anything, though the tiled floor was pristine. “Leann Weekes. Boulder City, the apartment building on the corner of Marina and Ville. Five hundred nine. Eighth floor. Apartment twenty-one.”

“Mom, stop!” He screamed, hands trembling.

“We’re sending an ambulance now, ma’am. I’m going to ask you a few questions, okay? How old is your son and what is his weight?”

“Fifteen, and, uh, around one twenty-five, I don’t know.” She reached out for him and he let out a strangled cry, pulling away from her and squeezing his eyes shut. This wasn’t how he wanted it to happen. She wasn’t supposed to come home.

“Okay. Does he have a history of self-harm or suicidal tendencies?”

“I don’t think so, I don’t know.” Tears stained her face and she looked at him again, at flushed skin and lips turning a pale blue. “I have no idea.” She admitted, inexplicably guilty. It wasn’t her fault. Dallon wouldn’t want to check in on him either. He made this decision. It was on him.

“Okay. That’s okay. Do you know what he took and the dosage?”

“No, uh.” She looked around and Dallon’s heart was pounding fast, too fast, and his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. He wanted this to be over. Prayed it would be over. Prayed that if God was real He would take him already. “What’d you take, baby? How much did you take?”

“Everything.” He said, voice strained, and she searched frantically, feeling around everywhere on the floor until she found an orange bottle under the sink. She pulled it out, turning it over to look at the label.

“He took these painkillers that he was prescribed when he sprained his ankle last month. Please hurry. Please.” She begged, gripping the empty bottle tight in her fist.

“Help’s on the way. Stay on the phone until the paramedics arrive.” The operator assured her, and Dallon cried out like a wounded animal. His mother flinched, so obviously pained, she wasn’t supposed to see it, she was supposed to find him after, pick up the pieces silently and mourn for a minute before she moved on. Everyone would. They’d all be fine without him.

“Dallon-“ She tried, reaching out with hesitance.

“Leave me alone!” He screamed, his voice piercing, and she backed away from him, staring with wide eyes and not knowing what to do. He tried to shove her away from him but she sat back, putting her hands up in surrender, and he felt like he was going to puke, but he wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

Sirens echoed down the street and Dallon shook violently, praying he’d die before he got to the hospital, praying he’d die, and his mother prayed he wouldn’t though the family had no luck so everything was up in the air. He muttered incoherently to himself, he didn’t want this, and his mother got up to buzz them in, unsure of whether they could get in, and went to open the front door before she returned to her son’s side.

Everything happened so fast and Dallon’s vision blurred, sharpened, blurred again, feeling a stabbing pain in his forehead as the men in white tried to play God.

“Ma’am, give us space.” One man directed and Dallon’s mother stepped out into the hallway, trying to keep out of the way but staring as her only son’s face paled, eyes wide with fear as they went in to help him.

“Stop!” He cried weakly, trying to kick at the man who went to pick him up. “Stop, let me die.” He sobbed, and his mother stood out in the hallway, staring at him with a hand over her mouth, crying too and wondering why she hadn’t seen it before.

“Sedate him, please.” A paramedic said above him as his vision blurred, his stomach burning and his head pounding as he started to fall unconscious, crying and trying to pull away. He didn’t want them to help him. He didn’t want to be saved. Why did they think he did this in the first place?

“Everything’s gonna be alright, son.” Someone said as he suddenly felt drowsier, a needle in his arm. I’m not your son, he thought, and words died in his mouth, and his body fell slack before he could try and say them.

At the hospital his mother paced the hallway, in the way though she didn’t care. Her son was behind that door. Her son, and she didn’t even notice, or maybe she didn’t want to notice, was in denial because no one wanted to admit they’d failed as a parent. That was a tough pill to swallow.

“Leann Weekes?” A man with a clipboard called and she looked up, hurrying to get her answers.

“Is my son okay?” She asked frantically, not bothering with a greeting.

“Well, we found a burn mark on his arm during examination. We talked to your son and he said that this was intentional.” He started and her stomach dropped, staring back at him and trying to think. He hadn’t said anything. She hadn’t noticed. Why didn’t she notice? He was her son. “We’re going to have to put him on suicide watch for a while. Typically when this happens to kids his age we do this by keeping them on psychiatric hold for at least a week. As his legal guardian that’s entirely up to you, but we have to keep him for a minimum of three days. A maximum of sixth months, but if he resists treatment, it could be longer. The main goal is to see progress in his recovery. This can be more proficiently done with professionals keeping a close eye on him.”

Suicide watch. Recovery. Psychiatric hold. Her head was spinning. “Okay. Um.” She shook her head in distress, moving slow. “I don’t have to decide right now, right?”

“Of course not. We’ll have you talk to somebody when you’re feeling up to it to make arrangements. He’s resting now, but you can wait in the waiting room and we’ll let you know when you can see him.”

“Okay.” She nodded aimlessly, didn’t know what else to say, and turned with tears in her eyes. She wasn’t supposed to see that. She wasn’t supposed to be home.

Tears slid down her cheeks and she headed down to the chapel to pray.

* * *

He blinked slowly and squinted as blinding white walls made his eyes sting. When was the last time he’d opened his eyes? The plan was to not open his eyes again. He heard a quiet gasp to his left and his head ached, and the sound of a monitor beeping reminded him of the painful truth. He was alive. He was alive. That wasn’t what he wanted.

“Where am I?” He tried to say, but his voice came out hoarse and he wondered how long he had been asleep. His mother reached out a hand to take his and he made a noise of distress, still tired and feeling weak. This wasn’t the plan.

“You’re in the hospital. You had to get your stomach pumped, Dallon. What were you thinking?” She berated, and he knew it was coming from a place of love but it hurt nonetheless. Getting lectured in a hospital bed. He didn’t know what to do with that.

“I wasn’t— I didn’t wanna think anymore.” He admitted, his voice sounding foreign to himself. Her eyes softened, she must had realized, and went to brush sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“My baby.” She sighed, almost so quiet that he didn’t hear it, and he let his eyes fall shut again as she stroked his bangs gently. He loved her. He really did. He was just a burden and not worth it anymore. He wanted to give her a clean slate. Wanted to stop all his guilt and suffering and anxiety. He didn’t see the fault in that. He thought he was doing the right thing.

“Sorry.” He muttered, because apologizing right now just felt like the right thing to do.

“Dallon, you are the only person in the world that I have left.” She whispered, and he knew that, of course he knew that, but she really missed out. Dallon wasn’t the person you wanted when you could only have one person. Dallon was a second choice. A backup. And she was just stuck with him like an obligation.

“S’not true.” He argued, because she had friends, other family, a life outside of him, but tears slid down his cheeks and he was her life, he knew that too. It was just hard to care about saving himself to save her when everything felt like a useless battle.

She didn’t contend, didn’t want to argue with him, just brushed his hair out of his eyes. He had his father’s eyes. He looked a lot like his father. And his mother saw it in him as he laid there, eyes half-lidded with sleep and hair in his eyes, looking like the boy in the old photos and a product of him indeed. Dallon was her son. Whether or not he was a burden was relative.

“How are you feeling, honey?” She asked quietly instead, touching his cheek with her fingers gently like she were admiring him more now that she knew she could lose him. It was troubling, in a way. The phenomenon of not appreciating something until it’s gone, or in this case almost gone. It was even more troubling that it was a mother and her child.

He lulled his head to the side, trying to want to keep his eyes open. “I’m sleepy.”

“That’s the sedative. It’s starting to wear off.” She brushed hair out of his eyes, eyes he’d gotten from his father, and she couldn’t imagine him gone.

“My tummy hurts.” He added, sounding like a child to himself when he heard it. He hadn’t meant to complain. He just wanted to stop being such a burden.

“It’s cause they pumped your stomach, babe. They’re rehydrating you now.” She pointed to the IV and his eyes followed lazily, squinting at the too bright lights and the liquid dripping into his bloodstream.

“I don’t get it.” He said weakly, the words sounding distant, and his mother’s eyes followed as he went to look out the window. “People who don’t deserve to die do. And people who try to die don’t.”

“Dallon.” She sighed quietly, begging in her tone, and he lazily turned to look at her too, squinting without his glasses or contacts and making a face.

“You should have let me die.” He told her, and ignored how tears slipped down her cheeks. “You deserve to let me die. I’m just a burden. I’m just in the way.”

“Never say that, Dals. Never.” She leaned down to wrap his weak body in a hug and he didn’t protest, but he stared over her shoulder at a blank white ceiling and wondered if there was really a God. He didn’t see Him when he was falling unconscious. He wondered if that was how it worked, or if all the stories he’d read were lies, or if everything he’d ever been taught was a lie, too.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know you were hurting yourself.” She added quietly, regret in her voice.

“I wasn’t doing it to get attention. I was just...”

“Taking it out on yourself?” She suggested when he couldn't find the words, and though that didn’t feel just right he nodded. He took everything out on himself, anyway. This was no different. “Listen. They want to keep you on— on psychiatric hold. Because you’re at high risk for suicide. And I think it’s a good idea. I think you could use some time to get better.”

Get better. What a stupid term. He wasn’t going to get better. He would realize that more and more as he grew older, but getting better was for people who didn’t have this thing inside of them. He felt trapped. Confined. “You want me to stay at the hospital?” He asked, hurt.

“It’ll be good for you, baby.” She insisted. “You’ll get the help you need. I couldn’t help you.”

“But they’re all strangers. They don’t know me.” He argued weakly, but then again she didn’t even really know him either.

“Dallon.” She sighed again, placing a hand on his gingerly as if she were about to deliver bad news. “I’m gonna tell them to keep you for some time. It’ll be good for you. You’ll see.” She promised, but she couldn’t know that. No one could. He was hard to help. Nothing was going to fix him. Not when he’d been damaged already.

“I guess.” He agreed, but he didn’t really think so.

* * *

He stared at the building in front of him, making a face as it seemed to loom over him. He told his mom that he didn’t want to go. But after the hospital she said that he needed to talk to people who could understand what he was going through. People he didn’t really know.

That was what led him here.

Bells went off to signal the start of a new hour at the church nearby and he pushed through the doors of the rec center, deciding to give it a try. What was the worst that could happen? He came in contact with all of his inner existential dread and guilt and regret? He had already done all that. Telling it to a bunch of strangers was nothing when he’d done an entire week’s worth of that already.

“You have to sign in.” A man told him as he started into the small room where the group met, holding out a clipboard for him. He made a face again, not even really realizing he was doing it, and accepted the clipboard, scribbling down his name under a few others.

It wasn’t a big group, maybe seven or eight people, and he sat in one of the yellow plastic chairs with his legs kicked out, keeping to himself until five past. That was when they started.

“I’m seeing a new face.” The man announced, drawing attention to a silent Dallon now sitting in between two strangers. “Why don’t you introduce yourself and tell us what you’re here for?”

He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, folding his arms as everyone stared at him. “Um, my name is Dallon. I’m here to... y’know. Get my grief counseled.”

“Well, grief counseling is the right place to do that.” He clapped his hands together and Dallon flinched, wondering why they chose such a cheerful man to counsel a bunch of sad people. That didn’t seem very right. “Alright, you guys. Introduce yourselves as you talk, just to make our new friend here feel more comfortable. Does anybody want to begin?”

“I’ll go.” A boy announced, holding up a hand in a wave. Dallon looked at him, eyes depleted, and only nodded when he introduced himself. He didn’t care about who these people were. He didn’t care about their problems. He had his own to think about.

He didn’t know how to talk about loss. He wasn’t even sure he really wanted to. He just thought his mom needed this. She had her own one of these groups, though, and she shouldn’t be dragging him into it, but it was too late to second guess himself. He was already here, listening to a guy talk about something he didn’t care to pay attention to.

“Grief isn’t a straight line.” The curator said, wearing a name tag that said Craig. He wondered who Craig had lost, if he was here because he could understand or if he could feed off of these people’s misery. “Everybody heals in different ways. Has different coping mechanisms. For some people it’s more difficult to adjust to the world after someone you love is gone.”

“Which is why just because someone doesn’t seem affected by it doesn’t mean they aren’t.” A girl chimed in; she must had been there a while. “I mean, that’s why my brother didn’t seem as affected when it happened. I dealt with the death differently. He’s bottling it up more.”

“Maybe it’s that boys are more prone to bottling up their feelings.” Another girl said, and Dallon crossed his arms, shifting his weight to look away from them. He didn’t bottle everything up. He just had no one to tell. He just didn’t wanna scream when no one would hear him.

“I don’t know if that’s true.” This guy with red hair argued. “I mean, when my sister killed herself I— I didn’t react well. It was really bad for me. I mean, my other siblings were really messed up too. They’re all younger. But like... my other sister wasn’t any more emotional than I was, or than my brother was. I don’t know. Maybe it depends on the person. But not everyone bottles up their grief.”

“Your sister killed herself?” A girl asked gently, Dallon didn’t remember her name, and the red-haired boy nodded, not looking as affronted as Dallon would. How did people just ask that?

“Yeah. She had depression for a long time. She tried to get help and everything, but sometimes it just... it isn’t that easy. We tried to keep an eye on her. Get her help and everything. Now it just... it feels like we didn’t do enough.”

“Suicide is such a selfish thing to do, isn’t it?” Someone across the circle said without introducing himself. Dallon looked up, panic stricken as if they were talking about him. How would they know? How would this group of complete strangers know? “I mean, killing yourself. It’s bullshit. It’s a copout. It’s just the easy way out. They don’t consider how they’re gonna affect everyone around them.”

Without thinking Dallon shot up and left the room, not bothering to apologize or excuse himself. This was bullshit. He didn’t need to sit there and listen to some asshole talk about things he didn’t know. It wasn’t selfish. It was what some people needed to do. It was the only way.

The door banged behind him and he speed walked outside, back into the fresh air where he planned to poison it. He dug around in his jean pocket for his lighter and a cigarette, the one cigarette he’d brought because he knew that morning that he would want one after this. His skin was itching and he felt irritable and he didn’t want to go back.

He leaned against the wall of the church and smiled languidly and sickly to himself, trying to slow the blackening of his lungs as the church bells rang at the half hour. It was a short group, he didn’t understand, meeting twice a week, a half hour today and an hour in three days. He didn’t like that. It was inconsistent. He turned away from the door and the other group members flooded out, scattering to leave though one approached him and stood at his side.

“Sorry about him. He’s always saying the douchiest things. Dude thinks that just because we’re grieving means he can get away with saying all this shit that none of us actually agree with.” The boy leaned back against the wall, tilting his head up to meet despondent blue eyes. “My name’s Ian. In case you didn’t catch it.”

“Yeah. Dallon.” Dallon shook his hand with his free one, positioning the cigarette at his lips again. Ian nodded, seemingly fascinated with him, the way his lips touched the cigarette and pulled away to exhale smoke, better after having tried it a few times since the first. He was quiet for a second, observing.

“Are you gay?” Ian asked suddenly. Dallon startled, turning to look at him with raised eyebrows.

“How the hell do you know that?” He asked, tone accusatory.

“Don’t say hell. We’re in a church. And it’s a gift.” He smiled proudly and Dallon shrugged, not agreeing or disagreeing because he couldn’t see why it mattered either way. He was still going to be the same miserable boy whether he was gay or not. Labeling himself seemed like a moot point. “So. Gay?”

Dallon shifted uncomfortably, folding his arms and not meeting his eyes. “Maybe.” He managed to say. Not a yes. Not a no.

“So it’s an it’s complicated, then.”

“Yeah. It’s complicated.” Dallon agreed, because it was. He didn’t know what was going on with him. “I’m kind of committed to someone right now.” He added hesitantly, just to say it out loud. It wasn’t a lie. He was committed to Ryan. Ryan just wasn’t in the same place.

“Bummer. You’re my type.” He looked him up and down and Dallon didn’t meet his eyes, but he’d never heard that before. You’re my type. People didn’t really ever like Dallon. He was the one who always liked them.

Dallon Weekes was starving for love. He just looked for it in all the wrong places.

“Oh. Ah. Sorry.” He shrugged, but didn’t really feel all that bad. This was a grief support group. They had more problems than not so subtle rejection. “And by the way, we’re not in a church. We’re next to a church. So.”

Ian shrugged a shoulder, watching Dallon move as if he were more than he was. Just some damaged fifteen-year-old with too many problems. Nobody wanted that. Nobody liked that. It was just the idea of him that seemed fascinating. “Either or.”

“Right. Well.” He sighed, and rolled up the sleeve of his sweater to press the burning cigarette to his skin. He clenched his teeth as he stared him in the eyes, daring himself not to cry, and Ian stared back at him in shock, not knowing what to say because he was starting to think that Dallon was a psychopath. Maybe he was, or maybe he just didn’t care much anymore. “My mom’s gonna be here soon.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Ian sputtered, at a loss for words, and Dallon tossed the burning out cigarette into the rocks on the pathway as he started toward the parking lot, not looking back though he could feel him watching.

He stared apathetically ahead of him, wondering if maybe they were right about him.

“How was it?” His mother asked quietly as he climbed into the passenger seat, not quite catching the way he pulled his sleeves over his hands while he buckled his seatbelt.

“Uneventful.” He lied, it felt good on his tongue.

“I guess that qualifies as good.” She figured, but didn’t really know, and then again he didn’t either.

He made a noise of agreement and settled down in his seat. His flesh burned and the feeling of his sweater against the wound stung but he liked it. He stared out at the road, at everyone wearing shorts and tee shirts and sandals, at the Nevada summer that he tried to avoid. His mom asked often why he chose to wear sweaters and he never gave her a real response. There were things she just didn’t really need to know.

“Do you think suicide is selfish?” He asked suddenly. His mother turned to look at him from the driver’s seat, going to twist down the music on the radio.

“I don’t think that.” She told him, but he wasn’t sure how much he believed it coming from her. “Why do you ask?”

“Someone said that today. When I was in the grief counseling group. Some guy was telling us about— about how his sister killed herself. And someone else said that suicide is selfish. It just made me feel guilty all over again.” He felt stupid for taking what a stranger said so seriously.

“Well, everyone is entitled to their own opinion.” She pointed out, but that didn’t make him feel any better. If everybody thought he was selfish then what was the point? He wanted to die because he was in the way. This was just contradicting that again. Reaffirming what he had known to be true. “Just because they think that doesn’t make it true. Trying to kill yourself wasn’t selfish. Sometimes you deserve to have things be about you. Not that you should prioritize yourself by hurting yourself, Dal, but you shouldn’t let others make you feel guilty or bad about what you’ve done. You’re not a bad person because you were in a vulnerable position. You just made a mistake. That’s all.”

He shrugged, turning to look out the window. A mistake. It wasn’t a mistake. He still thought about it every day. He still wanted to do it. He was just biding his time until he could try again. She was right. He deserved to have things be about him.

Selfish. He would show them selfish.

* * *

“I’ve been really conflicted lately.” Dallon said one afternoon when he was sitting in Ryan’s bedroom, looking up from where he was scrolling aimlessly on his phone. “About my faith and stuff, I mean.”

“Hm.” Ryan let one leg fall off the chair as he pursed his lips in thought. “What do you mean, exactly?”

“After everything, I don’t know if I can believe in God. Like... if He can take a good person away before it was his time, or whatever, how... how can I believe in Him? How can I believe in something that ruins my family? My life? I thought, like. I thought it would help me understand the world more. But it didn’t. And now I don’t know if I only believed in God because my parents told me to or if I needed something to cling to because I’m so confused about everything around me or if I really do believe in a higher power. I feel like because of this I don’t know if that’s what I believe anymore.”

“Dallon, come here.” He sighed, and Dallon did. Ryan could see the unease in his eyes. The stark loss. Dallon knew that. Ryan was good at knowing how to read him. He wrapped an arm around Dallon and Dallon leaned against him, his head on his shoulder. “I don’t believe in God.” He whispered, stroking his hair with gentle fingers like it were innate. “I never thought that it made sense that someone was controlling all of us. That there was a plan. I mean, why bother with living and trying to do anything ourselves if someone else controls us? I mean, maybe it’s good seeing things differently. Maybe that gives you more control.”

“My... my entire identity was my belief, Ryan.” He breathed out like he couldn’t fathom himself not believing in God. “I’ve gone to church every Sunday of my life. I read scriptures every day. Now I just... I feel empty. Like I didn’t just lose my dad but I lost God too. Like all of these pieces of me have been torn away. Who am I anymore if I don’t have that?”

“You’re still you, Dal. Whether or not you believe in God.”

“But all of my morals, Ryan. All of the rules I set for myself. I don’t even know who to be. Why I should bother trying to find it. I don’t feel like me anymore. And I don’t know how to explain that, or try to define it, or how to go about searching for what this feeling is. I’m just... empty. And I’m scared that I won’t ever get me back.”

“Well, people are made to evolve, I guess.” Ryan figured, but the truth was he didn’t know what to tell him. He’d never really had any sort of faith. Any beliefs. He was unsure of whether Dallon was lucky or not to have ever believed in something at all.

“Usually that means becoming better,” Dallon lamented.

“Not necessarily. It means becoming stronger. Simple Darwinism, right?” Dallon looked up at him skeptically. “Survival of the fittest. You’ve survived a lot, Dallon. Especially lately. If you can survive losing your dad, and attempted suicide, and Christian school, and some really fucking bad haircuts—“ Dallon laughed. “I think you can survive your faith too. Besides, your faith was never your whole personality. It was just a part of your identity. Give yourself some room to grow.”

“I don’t know.” He sighed. Ryan watched him twist the ring off of his finger, frowning. “It doesn’t seem easy to just throw my beliefs out the window. Everything I was. Everything I was raised on. It feels like I’m getting rid of a limb.”

“Easy, no, but it might be good for you. Don’t be so adverse to change. You’re different now. Sometimes you have to adapt to who you become.”

Dallon looked up at him like all of a sudden he realized that he was right. He could change anything he wanted. Nothing and no one held so much power over him that would stop him. He didn’t want to feel constricted. Maybe believing in something held him back. Maybe he was better off.

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe you’re right.” He agreed, and decided that he wanted to fix what he’d always wanted to change.

* * *

“You’re putting a hole in your face?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And your mother is letting you put said hole in your face.”

“My mom doesn’t control everything I do, Ryan.” He snapped, and Ryan knew not to take it to heart as he folded his arms and looked at the tools on the table beside where Dallon was sitting, shaking his leg like he were anxious though Ryan knew better than to ask. “Besides, I’m getting bored of myself. I need a change. It’s either this or shaving my head or dying my hair some crazy color and I don’t have the face shape for no hair or weird hair, for that matter. So. Nose ring it is.”

He didn’t tell him that he had already tried to change who he was on the inside. Grief counseling didn’t help. The hospital hardly did, either. Talking about it just made him feel worse. So he had to change who he was on the outside instead. Cross his fingers and hope the needle would puncture whatever was holding all of this pent-up anger and unbearable guilt.

Ryan opened his mouth to protest but a pierced and tattooed woman entered the small room, holding a small jewel in her gloved hand. “Alright, Dallon, I’m gonna make a mark on your nose and you tell me if you like the spot. Once it’s in it’s in.” She directed, taking a blue marker and then his face in her hand once he’d nodded, ignoring Ryan’s worried gaze. He knew what he was doing. He needed a change. She went to work at preparing the needle, and Ryan flinched when she stuck it in his skin without a warning.

He looked at himself in the mirror, at involuntary tears and a needle through his skin, and his eyes looked dead, like it wasn’t him staring back in that mirror. Like he was just a stranger, crossing paths like they never should have met.

She pulled away and pressed a tissue to his nose, smiling in satisfaction at another job well done. It was quick. “Okay, honey, you’re all set. This looks great on you.” She complimented, and he hopped off the table with a smile as he went to look at it closer in the mirror. “D’you like it?”

“Yeah.” He tilted his head to the side and watched the gem catch the light. This was what he needed. A change.

“Excellent. Now, it’ll grow a tiny red bump, just put tea tree oil on it and that’ll go down eventually. If it persists long after healing then wait until it goes away again before taking the jewelry out and do not put it back in, call us if you need to. Don’t change it for a couple of months just to be safe. If you do it’ll get infected. You got it?” He nodded, thanking her for her help before he started out of the store and weaved through people at the mall, having come and gone for one thing only.

“You look weird.” Ryan told him blatantly, following him toward the exit.

“Fuck you.” Dallon retorted, more exhaustion in his voice than malice, so sick of the judgment.

“Not in a bad way, Dal.” He corrected himself, and Dallon turned to look at him. “No, it looks good on you. It looks nice. You look good.”

“Thanks.” He said quietly, not knowing exactly what to say, and Ryan smiled softly back at him. “You said to give myself room to grow. Make a change. I figured I’d start small. I’m sick of my face. I’ve always wanted to get something pierced, anyway. It was a win win.”

Ryan looked him over for a second as Dallon started walking again. “Yeah.” He agreed, but didn’t say that it made his heart hurt when Dallon belittled himself. Someone like Dallon shouldn’t be so insecure. Try to hide it with humor but cry about it when he was alone. Ryan had him down by now. He just wouldn’t tell him that. “Hey, can we go to the food court? I wanna get something. I’ll buy you a drink, if you want.”

“Sure.” Dallon agreed, a hint of a sigh in his voice, and as he followed Ryan to the escalator he wondered how much change would be enough to forget.


	63. Chapter 62: Rose-Colored Glasses

Everything kind of felt like the way it felt to get off a rollercoaster. Like your feet aren’t steady in time and your body doesn’t feel like your own. That was how Brendon felt. At first it was just a transient feeling, but for some reason now it felt more commonplace.

He thought that by April things would have calmed down, and for the most part they had. But he was still so overwhelmed, feeling like everyone was looking at him. Judging him. Especially now, after what had happened over break, and though nobody knew, he still felt like it was tattooed on his forehead.

Failure. That was what he was, wasn’t he?

It was suffocating. Trying to breathe around the whispers. He felt sick. Nothing had happened and yet he still felt like he was going to run out of air. School felt that way regularly these days, like it took too much oxygen from his lungs and gasping for breath didn’t help. It felt that way too much sometimes, and on those days he felt suffocated in those halls.

He pushed through the side doors in the main hall and ran. A teacher monitoring the halls called after him but he ignored her, instead darting to the farthest bus stop he could reach before he felt like he was going to collapse. He didn’t care about getting in trouble. He just needed to get out of there. He leaned against the pole until the bus pulled up and he climbed on, still out of breath and not just from the running.

Back at home, he rummaged through the fridge despondently until he found what he wanted, the only time his birthday was a virtue, and blindly grabbed a fork out of the drawer as he hopped up to sit on the counter. He’d deal with the consequences later. He didn’t have it in him to care.

He was swinging his legs back and forth, his socked heels hitting the drawers beneath him, when footsteps got his attention; he looked up and his mother stared back at him. He startled and froze up as if she hadn’t already seen him; he opened his mouth to say something or apologize but the words couldn’t manage to push themselves out. He wasn’t sorry. He didn’t see why he needed to be at school today. He wasn’t going to get anything done having a panic attack in the middle of class.

“Brendon Boyd Urie, what the hell are you doing home at eleven forty in the morning on a Tuesday?” She asked, fury apparent in her tone. But in his defense, he thought she would be working all day. He was planning on her not finding out.

“Would you believe me if I said I was let out for good behavior?” He tried, but she didn’t even crack a smile. He guessed it made sense that she wouldn’t have a sense of humor about her son skipping school. “Okay. I’m sorry, first of all. I know I said that I would never skip again but sometimes I just get way too overwhelmed and I felt like I was being suffocated and that happens a lot and it might be just being back at school after the time off, I don’t know, but I needed to get out of there. So I came home, and I stood there and wondered what would make me happy. And birthday cake always makes people happy, it’s like the world’s eighth wonder. So I decided to start with that.” He gestured to his cake, and ta-da.

She sighed, but the anger melted off of her face and Brendon was surprised he wasn’t being yelled at already. He knew she was going easy on him. She had been since what had happened. He just wasn’t expecting that six months later, people would still be going easy on him. “Are you eating this entire cake by yourself?”

He nodded and dug his fork into one of the frosting flowers. “Yeah, but I’m also drinking milk, so that cancels it out, essentially.”

Her eyes flickered between he and the cup he was holding. “You know milk isn’t healthy.”

“Oh.” He looked down at his cup pensively and frowned. “Well, I tried. Grab a fork.”

She seemed to take a second to consider it before she shrugged and went to retrieve a fork from the silverware drawer. Her son smiled, satisfied, and shoveled the forkful of frosting into his mouth while she chose a spot to dig in. It was good cake. He was glad his friends cared more about his birthday than he did.

He twirled his fork aimlessly as his mother leaned against the counter beside him, waiting patiently for him to tell her what was wrong. He knew the drill. He couldn’t get away with anything. “So I talked to Ms. Kenny yesterday. About what happened. What’s happening.” He looked down at his lap to avoid her gaze, but she knew what he was talking about. He didn’t say it, not in so many words, but they both knew.

She’d been walking on thin ice around him for a while now, and he knew she was just being careful but he wanted things to go back to normal. He missed that, and he didn’t want this to be his new normal. Or he wanted it to be so worn that it didn’t matter anymore. He wanted to talk about it to exhaustion, normalize it, make it not so big of a deal. And then everyone would forget about it once they saw that he was okay.

She nodded slowly, directed her attention down at her fork digging for more cake, and asked casually, “Yeah? What did she say?”

“That she understands why I’m thinking what I am and that it’s common after traumatic experiences. But she thinks I should learn to adapt and use my anger with the world to ‘motivate me’.” He did air quotes with one hand before he got another forkful of cake into his mouth. “She said I have a lot of potential and I can get through anything. And that she believes in me.”

“I believe in you too.” She said it like it was no big thing, but when Brendon turned to look at her skeptically, she caught his eye and raised an eyebrow challengingly. “I do. You’ve been defiant since you could crawl. You’re not gonna let anything ruin that, Brendon.”

“I hope not.” He dug his fork into the cake again, scooping a bigger cluster of frosting this time. People always hated the frosting, but it was his favorite part. There was no such thing as too sweet. “I just... I feel like I’m running from something and I don’t know what it is. Myself, maybe. The truth. Or the things I know but am pretending not to.”

“What do you think will help?” His mom asked, not really knowing what else to say.

He shrugged, because hell, if he knew that then maybe he could fix it. “I don't know. More cake?” She smiled, nudging him in the side, and Brendon added, “I’m just under so much pressure. Dealing with school, keeping up with my friends, making sure Dallon is okay too, there’s so much going on and I’m just fucking exhausted, mama.”

“It’s hard to maintain fires that you don’t know how to put out.” She told him, an agreement or another, and it didn’t exactly make him feel better but it made him think. He wished he could put them out. He supposed that was why he was here. “Are you okay, babe?”

“I really don’t know anymore.” He sighed from down deep in his chest. Whenever he did that he expected the anxiety to drain with it, but he knew that wasn’t how it worked. Anxiety wasn’t that easy. Nothing was, for him. “I’m gonna go lie down, I think. I’m sorry for skipping.”

“It’s fine, baby.” She covered the cake up and he put his glass of milk in the sink. “Just, next time call me, okay? I’ll dismiss you. I want you to be okay.”

“Thanks, mama.” He wished he could smile at her. Thank her in a way that proved his sincerity. He really did.

Dally: a text that you were leaving school early would have been nice before I waited after school for like fifteen minutes for you only to be told by some guy that “diner boy skipped right out the main hallway and the hall security monitors are having a field day” so you’re probably getting detention and a scolding from me. where did you go >:(

Bumblebee: I literally just came home and ate birthday cake with my mom i’m sorry I didn’t let u know but I left and then my phone died on the way home and I didn’t charge it until just now

Dally: is everything okay though? what happened why did you leave

Bumblebee: it was stupid but I still just feel suffocated sometimes at school and I wanted to go home. I’m having a bad day :( scold me later?

Dally: okay well what about tomorrow I’ll come over and we can talk about it if you need to

Bumblebee: yeah sure that would be perfect I think talking is a good idea

Dally: of course

Dally: sorry if that was mean

Bumblebee: it wasn’t mean you’re never mean

Dally: okay I just worry sometimes

Bumblebee: don’t worry on the list of mean things I’ve heard nothing you’ve ever said has been on it I love u

Bumblebee: ok maybe some things but not that

Dally: understandable

Bumblebee: I’m gonna take a nap I’ll see you tomorrow

Dally: I’ll see you tomorrow xo

Brendon clicked his phone locked and dropped it. It was hard to maintain fires you couldn’t put out. It slipped his mind why all these fires were being started in the first place. That was what he got for living in the desert.

His phone slipped off of the mattress and hit the wood floor with a smack, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

* * *

Brendon was reading something about a case study on his phone in the passenger seat when a hand tapped his arm. He looked up, startled at the touch, and Dallon asked, “Where are you, Urie? I said your name like, four times.”

“I’m sorry.” He locked his phone and slipped it in between his thighs, but he couldn’t help but smile at the idea of being so entranced in something that it consumed all his senses for the first time in a long time.

“It’s okay. What are you doing on there, anyway?” He asked as he pulled into the lot behind the diner, genuinely curious and not accusatory as most people would be. Brendon has been attached to his phone lately, feeding his newfound infatuation.

“I found this free textbook online with a bunch of psychology case studies and I’ve been obsessed with it for days. You should read it.” He insisted, giddy again just thinking about it. Dallon turned to look at him, beaming all of a sudden, that one particular smile that always made Brendon laugh. “What?” He asked, enamored.

“Nothing.” Dallon shook his head and pulled the key out of the ignition, still smiling stupidly to himself. “No, nothing. I just love seeing you be passionate about something, is all. It’s really nice to see.”

“C’mon. I’m passionate about lots of things.” He played, unable to take a compliment. Dallon had to assume that it meant a lot to Brendon, hearing that. He hadn’t realized how empty he had been for months before he started feeling better. “I’m passionate about you, aren’t I?”

“Ew. That’s so dorky.” He laughed quietly, shoving Brendon’s knee, and they got out of the car in unison.

Brendon sat in his bed and Dallon sat at his desk, enveloped in his homework and not paying any mind as Brendon zoned out across the room. He couldn’t get his mind off of it. Everything he’d learned. It was so nice to make things... click.

“Do you think I should study in psychology in college?” He asked after a long silence; his voice sounded foreign to himself when he said it, but to his surprise he didn’t feel any animosity toward himself for thinking about his future. He wanted a future. Wanted to study psychology and help people the way he wished someone had helped him. He hadn’t thought seriously about having a future until now. He’d been so busy thinking about how he didn’t have a future.

“Yeah, I do.” Dallon told him, and Brendon’s face lit up. He pushed his textbook away and Dallon got up to join him on the bed, as Brendon always did that when he wanted his company. “It’s an immensely wide field so there are a lot of job opportunities and divisions to explore. And you’re so naturally gifted with the qualities of a psychology. You lay a lot of attention to detail, you care about people and look for logical ways to help, that’s really special. I think you would fit in really well with psychology.”

Brendon beamed at him. “Thank you. I’ve just been thinking about it a lot lately, you know?” He reached out to touch him blindly. “Since April break, I wanted to find out more. Why I’m feeling the way I’m feeling. The scientific way. Or I guess the psychological way. So I’ve been researching it, and I feel like if I went into psychology then I could help people figure out what's wrong with them."

“That’s very noble of you.”

Brendon smiled sinuously. “Well, who am I to keep my natural gift from the people?"

"You'd be crazy to." Dallon whispered, wearing this knowing smirk as he leaned in to kiss him. Brendon leaned back on the mattress, guiding Dallon with him. It had been a minute since they’d done anything. He figured that after all, it couldn’t hurt.

With a swift kick Brendon knocked all of his homework onto the floor, but he couldn't be bothered to care when the textbook hit the ground with a thud. He looked to his half open door, laughter ceasing in his throat, but Dallon’s hand explored his sides and his tongue licked at Brendon’s bottom lip and all of a sudden he forgot what he was worried about.

Delicate fingers traced freckles on his skin and Dallon straddled his hips, kissing him fervently all of a sudden. Brendon loved when he did. Desperate to a fault, Brendon dragged his hands up his side, bunching fabric in his fists before pulling Dallon’s shirt off over his head.

He elicited a quiet laugh against his lips but no contending, as his hand moved around Dallon’s chest, up his shoulders, around his neck and into his hair. Dallon shoved his knee in between Brendon’s legs, making him tighten his grip on his hair and arch up into his touch.

“Brendon!” His mother’s voice called, and he shot up so fast that he bumped his head against his boyfriend’s mouth. Dallon startled, and in turn Brendon did too.

“Yeah?” He called back, holding his breath, as apologetic eyes scanned Dallon’s face for damage.

“Dinner!”

“Okay!” He turned back toward Dallon worriedly and when Dallon pulled his fingers away from his mouth, they were stained with red.

Eloquently, Dallon stated, “Fuck.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.” Brendon sat up on his knees and examined Dallon’s mouth, touching his face cautiously until he pressed his thumb against his lip and made Dallon jerk away. “I’m sorry, Dal.”

Blood dribbled out from a cut on his bottom lip and Brendon panicked, beginning to get up to help. “S’okay.” He got up to find Brendon’s tissue box and his shirt, thrown haphazardly on the floor. He pressed the tissues to his lip and tried to pull his shirt on with one hand.

Brendon watched hopelessly and guiltily from the bed. “Do you need some help?”

“No, I got it.” Dallon switched arms to clumsily pull on his shirt and Brendon felt like laughing and crying at the same time. He didn’t know how he managed to do things like this so often that it wasn’t even shocking anymore. He grabbed another tissue from the box, leaving the other one in a half empty trash bin. “Y’know, Bren, you’ve gotta stop freaking out every time you hear someone or something make a noise.”

“I know.” He admitted, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’m just overly paranoid, I guess. My mom has already walked in on us once. Not to mention that every loud noise freaks me out. You can’t blame me for being skittish.”

“No, I can’t blame you.” He headed toward the door and Brendon got up, pouting guiltily when Dallon bumped their shoulders together. “But we aren’t gonna get in any trouble. We weren’t doing anything. You’re safe from embarrassment with me.”

“I just busted your lip open, Dallon.” Brendon refuted.

“Okay.” Dallon laughed, and for compensation Brendon kissed his cheek when they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“To make up for it.” He told him, stopping to tug at his shirt gently. “That’s a borrowed kiss, though. You’ll have to return it.”

“I’ll reimburse you later.” He pointed to his bloody lip and Brendon couldn’t bite back a laugh, but he felt terrible. Dallon really loved him. He must have, because no one else would stick around.

* * *

Brendon’s meetings with Ms. Kenny were meant to be Mondays, but Brendon couldn’t wait to talk to her. He had a good idea. A great idea, actually, and he needed to talk about it. Make a plan. He hasn’t stopped thinking about it. So during his study period on Thursday he headed up to her office, making sure to knock when he saw that her door was closed. She called for him to enter.

Her eyebrows went up in surprise when he slipped into the room and closed the door. “Hi, Brendon. I wasn’t expecting you. We don’t have a meeting, do we?”

“No. I didn’t make one. I just needed to talk to you.” He rushed, out of breath. “Is now a good time?”

“Now is fine. Is everything okay?” She took out the notebook with his name on it and he nodded, taking a seat across from her.

“Everything is fine. Everything is good. I just had a really good idea.” He leaned forward as if he were about to share a secret with an old friend. “I wanna go into psychology.”

Her eyes lit up, pleasantly surprised. He knew it was unexpected. He surprised himself, too. He never really had any sort of plan for his life. Now, this felt like a solid plan. “That’s wonderful, Brendon. It’s nice to know you’re thinking about your future. What got you thinking about this?”

“I don’t know, really. The past few months have been really bad for me. Being depressed and stuff. I guess I just wanted to know why I’m this way. Why my mental illness is so different from Dallon’s. I was looking it up, and it was just so interesting that I kept researching. Psychology is so interesting. I haven’t been excited about going to college until now.” He hadn’t noticed she was smiling until then. “What?”

“No, nothing.” She shook her head, but she was beaming at him. “I’m just glad that you’re making plans for the future. You’re doing so well, Brendon. I think this is a really good path for you.” She wrote something down and he smiled down at his lap. “So what steps do you think you can take to achieve this goal?”

“Um, I don’t know yet. I’ll tell my parents and try to bring up my GPA and when I get to school in the fall, I’ll see if my counselor will help me make a schedule. But I’m really excited about this. It feels like for the first time in months, I’m actually sure of something.”

“I’m happy for you, Brendon. I’m proud of you.” She told him, and he hadn’t realized it, but he was pretty proud of himself too.

A future. Maybe it wasn’t too far-fetched.

* * *

“So, I told Ms. Kenny about how I wanna study psychology.” Brendon told Dallon that afternoon as they sat together in his bed, working on homework and bumping their knees together every few minutes. “She thinks it’s a good idea. And he said she’s proud of me.”

Dallon’s knee brushed his again and he said, “I’m proud of you too, Urie.” The words always gave him butterflies.

Brendon smiled up at him, blushing or maybe not. Dallon smiled back and Brendon loved his smile so he went to kiss him, but just as fast Dallon pulled away. “What?” Brendon asked, not one to take rejection lightly.

“My lip still hurts.” Dallon laughed quietly, there was still a bump where Brendon had hit it, and he gasped but went to touch it with his thumb carefully, though Dallon flinched when he did.

“Shit. Sorry. Hey.” Brendon kissed his cheek quickly, down his chin, underneath, and to his neck. “Lemme apologize.”

“Well, I’m not gonna say no to that.” He tilted his head back to give him access and Brendon shifted to lay on his side, smiling against his skin as his fingers slid over his sides.

Dallon tilted his head against Brendon’s, eyes closed, only smiling as Brendon sucked a bruise into his skin like he knew he liked. He was getting to know a lot of the things he liked. He supposed if they were going to commit, they had to commit to learning those things too.

“Why don’t you have a lock on your door?” Dallon asked after a minute, gripping Brendon’s side absently while Brendon bit at his neck.

“You’ve met my mother.” He whispered, sliding a hand up his shirt. “Grace Urie doesn’t believe in locks. Or privacy.”

Dallon sighed, squirming frustratedly. “How much trouble d’you think we’d get in if we-“

“Dinner!” Brendon’s mom called up the stairs, and Brendon pulled away to look at him defeatedly, but didn’t try with an excuse. He just got up, and Dallon made a face of disdain before he followed.

“Don’t be dramatic.” Brendon poked at him teasingly, but deep down he was glad they were getting them back. “Later. One of these days. We’ll get to it.”

“I suppose we will.” Dallon agreed, feigning frustration, but Brendon knew him by now. Could tell that he was happy. It was rare, seeing Dallon happy, but that was what pride did. Made people happy. By association, made other people happy, too.

I love you, Brendon wanted to say, but he just reached out to tangle their fingers together instead.

* * *

Dallon poked at the food Brendon had brought from the diner as his mother and boyfriend made conversation across the kitchen table. Brendon’s foot kicked Dallon’s, he always swung them aimlessly when he was invested in a conversation, and Dallon found it in him to smile because he liked that they got along. It made things easier. The plan he had for them.

“Did Bren tell you he’s thinking about going into psychology?” Dallon asked during a lull in conversation, taking it upon himself to share since Brendon wouldn’t. He tsked but her eyes lit up, turning to look at Brendon with a smile nonetheless.

“You are?” She asked, surprised, and he pressed his lips together in a smile.

“Yeah. It’s not that big of a deal.” He brushed it off. It was just an idea. Nothing he was sure of yet. “I just kind of thought of it. Y’know, I realized that I wanna learn more about people. Why they act the way they do. I guess psychology will give me the answers I’m looking for. And I would like to help people too, so. It might be good to have a career in. It might give me a purpose.”

“Are you taking a psychology class?” She asked, but he shook his head. He’d realized too late in the year, and it was too close to graduation to switch in. “Wait. I have something for you.” She jumped up and that got Dallon’s attention. He looked up, watching skeptically, as she disappeared into the hallway.

“She’s so weird.” Dallon said under his breath, but his boyfriend smiled, always having gotten along well with Dallon’s family.

She returned after a minute with a book in hand and without explanation set it down in front of Brendon. “What’s this?” He asked, pushing his plate to the side.

“A textbook.”

“No, I know, I mean, like, why do you have it?” He touched the dusty cover hesitantly; the word psychology was printed in big yellow letters.

“Dal’s father took psychology. He kept his textbooks for a while after college to refer back to them; we still have all of them lying around. Just in case Dallon ever wanted them.” She gestured to the book like he hadn’t uncovered a fossil from the past and Brendon was dumbfounded, wiping dust from the cover and then on his napkin. It hadn’t been touched in a while.

Brendon looked up at Dallon, staring down at the book unseeingly. “You never told me that.” He mused, curious because Dallon told him everything. Especially something like that.

But Dallon looked from the book to his mother, blue eyes shining unreadably. “I didn’t know.” He admitted quietly.

“You never asked.” She smiled back at him, and Dallon’s eyes softened when he looked back to see Brendon pulling the textbook open and flipping through the pages too fast to read the words on them. “Is that what you’re lookin’ for, honey?”

“Yeah. Yes.” He closed it and smoothed his hands over the cover wantonly. It was old and it had that old book scent, but the pages looked like new and it was so beautiful. The colors on the cover were bright and inviting and he even didn’t think about how Dallon would react before he asked excitedly, “Can I borrow it?”

“No, it’s yours. Keep it.” She insisted.

“No, I can’t.” He denied, because it felt wrong. Taking something that belonged to Dallon’s father. There was a reason she had kept it for so long.

“Sure you can. It’s just collecting dust here. Better to put it to good use, right?”

Brendon hesitated, but looked up at Dallon hopefully, hating to ask but knowing deep down that he and Dallon shared their lives, anyway. “Is this okay with you?”

Dallon nodded and Brendon couldn’t bite back his smile, butterflies in his stomach at the prospect of finally having found his thing. “It’s totally fine. Go for it. It’s yours.” He put a hand on Brendon’s back. “Besides, you’ll need to know at least something about this before you go into it forever.”

“Thank you.” He pulled him into a hug, the book cradled in his other arm. “Thank you.” He hugged Dallon’s mother too, smiling like she knew what she had done, and when he looked back down at the cover, they exchanged looks. Dallon loved Brendon’s passion. His mother loved when he was happy. “I can’t wait to read this.” He added, running his fingers over the cover again. It felt like a rite of passage. Something that put him on the path to having a future. That felt so impossible for months: now he felt like he had some reason to have hope.

“C’mon.” Dallon tugged his hand so Brendon followed, grinning between them and letting Dallon lead him to his darkroom. He was starting to clean things out, tidying up and decluttering for the spring.

Brendon sat on the counter and Dallon shut the door behind him so his mother wouldn’t hear. He went to collect the stray papers on his desk, left everywhere because he always managed to make a mess when he was feeling creative, but seemed to be trying to make up a reason as to why he brought him in there, the farthest room down the hall and therefore, the most private. Brendon watched wordlessly, knew what had to be coming.

“So, I wanted to talk to you about a few weeks ago. Your birthday, what you said. And after the sort of breakup, all the stuff we talked about.” Dallon looked up at Brendon briefly as he multitasked, pushing a pile of papers in a drawer. Brendon watched his hands move, avoiding eye contact as he realized the shift in conversation. “You still feelin’ like that?”

He tried to keep it lighthearted, but Brendon knew what they were talking about. Suicide. The word died behind their teeth each time one tried to speak it, an unfair reality that hung between the two like a barrier. It hung almost as heavy as a lie, but Brendon promised himself that he wouldn’t tell any more of those. “Yeah, sometimes.” He admitted, looking down at his lap. He could see Dallon slow down across the room, but he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t let himself.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked, though they both knew the answer to that.

Brendon shrugged, shaking his head no. He was sick of talking about it. He wanted to be done with it. Wanted to move on and toss it all out the window. “Nothing to talk about. I’m feeling okay right now, and I have to take it one day at a time. That’s what Ms. Kenny said.”

Dallon looked up at that, an eyebrow quirked in curiosity. “So you told her?”

“Um, yeah. And my parents.” He looked down at his lap and picked at the hole on the knees of his jeans. “They’re not gonna make me go to therapy since I have Ms. Kenny, which I’m thankful for, but they did call my doctor and let her know what’s going on with me so she can figure out what to do. I’m gonna keep taking the antidepressants but I need to try and get better, because it won’t happen if I don’t try. So I will.”

“I respect that.” He walked over to him and wrapped an arm around his waist, hand on his hip and a look of reluctance in his eye. “Listen. I told my mom about what happened. I didn’t know what else to do, and I needed to talk about it, and I’m sorry for sharing that when I shouldn’t have. I know it’s personal.”

“No, I’m glad you did.” Brendon wrapped his arms around his shoulders and squeezed when Dallon leaned in. “I’m glad. You need someone to talk to about it and she knows how to handle it. I mean, she handled you, right?” He hooked his chin on Dallon’s shoulder and ran a hand up his back. Dallon nodded slowly, his hip against the counter, and slid his fingertips under the hem of Brendon’s shirt. “Right. And listen, your mom is my family too. She can know. Just... Tyler and Josh and Ryan can’t, okay? Not about the suicide thing and not about the breakup. We need to keep that completely away from them.”

“I agree.” He linked his pinky with Brendon’s. “No one knows.” Brendon nodded, because he knew no one else would know how to handle this. He didn’t want them to have to. Dallon tucked a lock of hair behind Brendon’s ear, examining his eyes again, and Brendon didn’t bother trying to understand. Dallon stuck to promises Brendon couldn’t. “One more thing, Bren.” He said, and Brendon nodded again, running a hand up his side. “I can’t keep having the same conversations with you.” A response got caught in Brendon’s throat on its route to his mouth, leaving him speechless. “Saying we’ll be honest with each other, and not having secrets, and... I can’t do it. We keep promising to not hide things from each other but we keep breaking that promise. I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t think it’s possible to stop hiding some things.” Brendon admitted, and he’d realized it at some point lately but he didn’t know how to say it. “I think maybe we get used to sharing them, but we don’t have to tell each other everything if it’s not important. I think there have to be some compromises.”

“I think you’re right. We can’t keep pretending we’re a perfect couple cause we’re not. I mean, near perfect, but-“

“Stop.” Brendon giggled, but Dallon was right, he was so right, and Dallon kissed him gently because he thought they were perfect despite everything. He wrapped a hand around his neck, dipping his fingers into the tips of his hair, and added, “I think we’re gonna have to work on us a little. Or not try so hard to work on us, I guess, and let things happen.”

“Yeah.” Dallon searched his eyes before he smiled in that way that was barely a smile and wrapped him in a hug because he didn’t know what else to say. And that was okay, sometimes Brendon didn’t either, except Dallon was better with words than he could ever hope to be. “You know how we said that we would talk about things? Ease back into us?” Brendon nodded uneasily, all of a sudden, remembering the conversation they’d had in Dallon’s car one evening when everything was somehow more broken than now. He remembered that conversation too well, in fact. “We never... did. We never talked about us and stuff. Because of Halloween. That kind of felt like it... repaired us. But like a bandaid. Not like it was actually a cure.”

“Yeah.” Brendon agreed gently; he hadn’t let himself think it much, but he couldn’t deny that it had crossed his mind once or twice. Wondering whether it was the reason they were together after all this time. “I think— I don’t know. I think it seems like we were forced back together by it.”

“I don’t wanna think that.” Dallon admitted, and Brendon stared in his eyes for what seemed like forever because he didn’t either, because he and Dallon felt so real and so eternal that them breaking up shouldn’t have been an option. He never wanted that for them. “But I think you’re right. It’s probably why we’re still together. But I don’t think that’s a bad thing, exactly. I think it might be good. It made me realize how much I would miss you if you were gone.”

Brendon’s lips tilted into a smile. “So I guess it did have a bright side, huh?”

“Everything has a silver lining.” Dallon shrugged, half smiling, and Brendon felt like hugging him so he did. “I’m glad we’re being open about everything again, baby.”

“Me too.” Brendon whispered, his chin hooked over Dallon’s shoulder. Honesty. It felt so much easier when it cleared so many things up.

“So, listen.” He pulled away after a moment, a hand extant on Brendon’s side. “I’m gonna tell my mom. About my eating disorder, I mean.” He bumped his knee against Brendon’s calf when brown eyes widened. “Y’know. Consider it a step to us getting better.”

“You are?” Brendon asked in disbelief, and when Dallon nodded he enveloped him in a hug again. “I love you.” He told him, because it was the only thing he could think to say.

“I love you too.” Dallon whispered, and squeezed him tight because sometimes he just had to. Brendon hooked his ankle around Dallon’s leg, making him laugh, he loved the sound of his laugh, and transiently he wondered if this was one of those moments where you noticed a shift. Where you could pinpoint a part of your life where something changed for the better. Made you more mature.

He smiled gently at the thought of it, because he could use a little changing for the better right now.

* * *

“Hey, babe.” Dallon’s mother greeted from the counter, barely looking up at him as she worked in chopping vegetables for dinner.

He watched her for a moment, feeling his socked feet hard against the tiled floor and trying to remember that this was a good thing. Being honest with his mother, and with Brendon. Having dinner and talking about their days, standing in the kitchen and smelling food cooking and looking forward to a good meal. Those were all good things. He didn’t know why, then, he was so nervous about this.

“Hey, mom, can I talk to you about something?” He asked reluctantly, but knew he couldn’t take it back when she glanced up with a nod. He gestured to the living room so she set the knife down and followed. He noticed that she didn’t try to hide it like she used to when he walked in the room. Baby steps, he thought.

“Is everything okay?” She asked, and he guided her to take a seat beside him in the couch.

“Um, yes and no.” He shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what constituted as okay. He was asking for help, admitting he had a problem, and that in itself made the situation better. It was just the fact of the matter that made it so much more difficult to tell her. “So, uh. I wanted to tell you about something that I’ve been going through for a while now.”

She nodded, always having been good at listening. “Okay.”

“Okay. Uh.” He looked down at his lap so he didn’t have to see her face when he told her. “Sometimes I self-harm by doing bad stuff to my body. Like, not eating or eating too much. I never really knew what to label it, but for lack of better terms I refer to it as— as an eating disorder, cause technically it’s disordered eating. And I’ve been doing it for a while, since daddy died, but it gets worse whenever I’m in a bad place.” He looked up hesitantly to see her nodding gently in understanding. “I’ve talked to my therapist about it— she said I should talk to you and brainstorm how I can get better. Because I’m really sick of hurting myself, mom. I don’t wanna keep doing this to me.”

“I appreciate that you want my help, Dallon.” She told him carefully, and he only nodded, surprised that she was taking it so well. “So. I just want you to clarify a little. About what kind of problems you have. I don’t know much about eating disorders.”

“Me neither, honestly.” He admitted, always having been too scared to look them up in depth. “I don’t think it fits in anywhere. It’s not... textbook. I don’t really do just one thing. That bothers me a lot, cause I don’t really know what it is. I don’t know if it’s a disorder at all. I just know a lot of the time I feel too sick to eat or don’t because I wanna hurt myself and then sometimes I eat a lot and then feel really bad about myself. It’s been like that for years but I really wanna do something about it now. I wanna get better. Be healthy. Mentally, I mean.”

“Okay, babe.” She looked him over, eyes oscillating, but he pointedly avoided her gaze. He was humiliated, having to talk about this. Having to admit he had a problem. Especially to someone he was so scared to disappoint again. “Thank you for telling me this. But can I ask you a question? Just so I understand?” Dallon nodded again, peeking up at her. “Why do you do it?”

He sniffled and shook his head; he’d been wondering that himself for a while now. “I don’t know.” He admitted, but the irony wasn’t lost on him. “It’s not because of my body itself. I’m not scared of gaining weight. I just want to hurt myself in every way I can because I think I deserve to.” He wiped his cheeks and hated how emotional he was over this. “I’ve been really on and off, but it’s like... a problem. And I wanna get better. I don’t wanna keep hiding behind a bunch of excuses and telling everybody that I’m fine. I wanna be healthy. So I’m telling you the truth now. I’m sick. I don’t know exactly what’s wrong with me but I want to fix it.”

“Okay.” She nodded in agreement and pulled him into a hug. “We’re gonna fix it, then, baby. Anything you wanna do.”

“Okay.” He sniffled again, his nose pressed tight against her shoulder. It had been a long time coming, his reaching out. He’d been avoiding getting help for years. The same old song and dance, and he was getting sick of it. It just wasn’t fun anymore.

He wanted to switch things up. Try something different. Who knew, maybe he would end up a little happier.

* * *

Good days and bad days. That was how everybody seemed to explain it. But Brendon had been compartmentalizing his entire life and nothing seemed to be so simple. Mental illness was complex.

Anxiety was heavy in his stomach that weekend, though nothing in particular was wrong. He just thought it was going to be better from now on. He was so sure... well. He’d learned his lesson months ago that expecting something and getting something were two totally different things.

Brendon Urie wasn’t happy. Brendon Urie was just so fucking good at pretending he was happy.

He sat at the table one morning, tapping his spoon against the bowl of cinnamon flavored milk in front of him and staring mindlessly into it as his siblings chattered around him. “Hey, you want more?” Kyla asked suddenly, and Brendon snapped out of it to glance over his shoulder, where his sister was holding the box of cereal. He nodded, and she handed him the box.

His mom glanced at him suspiciously, watching the way he barely lifted a finger to fill his bowl again. “Brendon, did you sleep okay?” She asked, and to that he could only shrug. What qualified as a good sleep, anyway? Waking up ninety-nine times a night instead of a hundred? He had no such luxury.

“Okay, well, maybe we can do something today. I’ve been meaning to get out to the farmer’s market. Come with me, yeah?”

He saw what she was trying to do. Distract him, make him forget about whatever was on his mind. The problem was, there was nothing on his mind. He was just sad. “Mhm.”

She smiled, pleased. “Good boy.” She went to press a kiss to the top of his head while she gathered the empty bowls on the table and set them down in the sink. He turned to watch her but tired too quickly, and instead stared at the table like it were anything interesting.

Grace Urie: he’s having a bad day. make him smile

Dallon: I’m working until 4:30, have him ready by 5. occupy him until then and I’ve got him for the night.

* * *

The farmer’s market was boring. Brendon could appreciate a good parsnip now and then but not when his bones felt like they were trying to expand out of his body. He dragged his feet while his mother browsed the fresh fruit, picking things out and making Brendon hold them since she didn’t bring her basket. He hardly had the energy. He just didn’t need to keep letting her down.

“Look, babe. Maybe you and me can make a pie together today, huh?”

“I can’t bake, mama.” He reminded her, trailing behind her sleepily and glaring at the blueberries unintentionally as she grabbed a box.

“I’ll show you how. I’ll teach you the family recipe. Your kids will want it someday.” She went to pay and he stared after her, wondering if he was ever going to have kids. If that was in the cards for him.

He set his mother’s purchases down on the table where a man marked down their prices, and he watched unseeingly as his hands moved to bag them. Kids. A family. It hit him then that he hoped to live long enough to see it happen.

The doorbell rang that evening and Brendon’s mother looked up from where she was showing Brendon how to decorate the top of the blueberry pie, eyes shining with delight. “Will you get that?” She asked, so he went to buzz them in.

The front door opened and Dallon called a hello, opening an arm for Brendon as he snuck into the kitchen. “Hi, baby.” He greeted when Brendon enveloped him in a hug, surprised to see him when they didn’t have plans.

“Hi, what are you doing here?” Brendon asked into his shoulder.

“I’m taking you out.” He squeezed his arm and smiled at Brendon’s mother over Brendon’s head, as they had developed a camaraderie when learning how to take care of him. She smiled back gratefully and nodded once to say thanks. He was the only thing these days that made Brendon feel any semblance of safety.

“Okay. Uh, I’ll be home later, I guess.” He wiped his hands on the washcloth on the counter and his mom only nodded. She didn’t mention that it was her idea. That she was learning how to tell when he needed someone.

“Have fun, babies.” She blew kisses, and Brendon never knew what to expect from Dallon but he let himself have hope in him. He always somehow made him smile.

Brendon squinted at the building as he climbed out of the car, slamming it shut as Dallon circled it to stand beside him. “What is this place?” He asked, looking for a sign.

“It’s an auction house. C’mon, we’re gonna be late.” Dallon took his hand, guiding him into the building and ignoring his incredulousness. Dallon always had strange date ideas. If he didn’t know any better, he’d assume Dallon was trying to buy a house for them. He held the door open for him and Brendon was skeptical as he headed inside, worrying his bottom lip in his teeth.

Everybody in there looked rich. He startled, stopping short in his path as Dallon let the door fall shut behind them.

“Oh my god, Dallon, no. I have to go home.” Brendon whispered immediately as they entered the foyer, where dim lights illuminated an adorned room with seats and a stage. It was beautiful. It wasn’t made for someone like him.

He turned away from the gazes of the adults around them, watching him suddenly with judgmental eyes. He didn’t know what kind of twisted idea this was, but Brendon was embarrassed and he didn’t even know what to say. He shouldn’t be here. Why was he here? Why did Dallon choose this?

“What? Why?” He placed a hand on Brendon’s shoulder, and Brendon peeked up at him with big eyes. Did he not realize?

“Because I’m wearing girl’s Walmart leggings and this sweater is like, ten sizes too big-“

“Okay, well, that’s my sweater, so screw you too.”

“You know what I mean!” Brendon smacked his chest. “I thought we were like, going to get dinner at that Mexican restaurant I like or something. I didn’t know we were actually going somewhere nice. And I don’t know Gucci, Dallon, but I’m pretty sure that woman is wearing it.”

“That’s Louis Vuitton. I’ve worked in a thrift store. The country club wannabes go nuts there. C’mon, let’s find a seat!”

“I don’t wanna do this!” Brendon whined when Dallon grabbed his hand and dragged him past the snooty looking adults wearing real pearls and suits, thousand dollar dresses and fancy heels. He never even knew this place was here.

“C’mon.” Dallon insisted, pulling him down in a seat in the back. An auction house. It was such a strange phenomenon. He sat down, though, his thigh pressed to Dallon’s, and wondered if everything this boy did had a meaning.

* * *

Dallon raised his hand and Brendon pulled it back down, muttering for him to stop as Dallon giggles uncontrollably like a child. “Dallon.” Brendon whispered under his breath, because this was ridiculous, and a woman with white hair turned to look at them, appalled, though they both just burst out into laughter.

“I wanna buy a house, Bren.”

“If you can’t afford it what do you think happens?” He hissed, but couldn’t keep a straight face because Dallon was grinning childishly and it was rare to see him like this. It was sad, too, that that thought drifted into his head at the time. Dallon smiling was rare. Brendon felt inclined to collect those smiles and put them on display.

Auction houses were interesting because it was just like eBay or a thrift store, where people got rid of their old things or tried to buy someone’s secondhand stuff. He’d never thought of it that way, as an auction house was much more upscale and it was easy to forget about something you had nothing to do with.

People trickled out when the auction ended and Brendon didn’t miss the dirty looks from rich adults. He supposed it was better to be a teenager and in love than a wealthy adult buying things to fill the empty spaces in their house. He liked the idea of having a person. Nothing could ever really amount to that.

They sat in the back row as the dim room surrounded them, saying nothing but feeling some presence of something neither would mention because words could kill sometimes and Brendon had enough blood on his hands.

Brown eyes wandered aimlessly, tonight had been interesting. And he wanted to thank him, if it weren’t for him he probably would have been at home thinking things he shouldn’t be thinking. Without Dallon he probably wouldn’t be alive, either, though the thought was too jarring to let it grow too deeply in him.

“Did you have fun?” Dallon asked suddenly, and Brendon turned to look at him. Nodded softly but said nothing, he didn’t know what exactly to say anymore. Every word seemed wrong somehow. “Well, good.” He reached out and pat Brendon’s thigh like they were just friends again, though after everything Brendon wouldn’t be so surprised. “I thought you would need this.”

“Why’d you bring me here, Dallon?” He turned again, watched Dallon look at him too because he meant more than he said. “I mean, this was fun, and you always have the best date ideas. I love that about you. But why an auction house? Why something so...”

“Uppity?”

Brendon nodded, and Dallon shrugged, treated everything so half-hearted when Brendon acted like everything was the end all or be all. Maybe he should stop taking everything so seriously. Maybe the problem was that he didn’t take the important things seriously enough. He still wasn’t so sure about that one.

“To remind you that you’re a kid.” He explained like it were simple, like that were the underlying meaning all along. Brendon must had looked confused, because, well, he was, and he knew by now not to be confused by Dallon anymore. There was no point. “You’re smart. And you have a lot of potential. I know you don’t think so, but you have a future. And right now, you’re a kid. You’re not some adult bidding on houses and yachts and you have so much time before you have to start worrying about it. I mean, not a yacht, I don’t know if you’ll have a yacht. You might. I don't know.” Brendon smiled subconsciously. “But please, just... enjoy being a kid. Enjoy all our weird dates and me and just enjoy this, Brendon. Because it won’t always be this way.”

Blindly, Brendon reached out to touch his hand. Tangled lazy fingers together, nodded because Dallon was right. Dallon always turned out to be right. “I think it’s a problem, when people don’t live in the now. Cause we spend every day waiting for the weekend, or something we look forward to, or whatever. I think I wanna start appreciating things that happen while they’re happening.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Dallon agreed, fingers warm in Brendon’s cold ones; he ran so cold, just barely tucked underneath the sleeve of his stolen sweater. Things only seemed to make sense when Dallon made them.

Dallon was forgetive in a way where he could pull just about anything from his bones and spin it perfectly, as he did. Brendon never understood how he managed to do it. But it was one of many little pieces of magic that he had, and Brendon wondered why he hadn’t found his yet. He’d been waiting so long, it felt like. The problem was, he didn’t know what he was waiting for. So much had changed, and it was hard to pinpoint pieces of your personality when you were shattered, trying to find your way back together.

The alchemy of the old him and whoever he was now was inscrutable sometimes. It was like he was getting so lost in trying to find his old self that he was neglecting the new one, but the new one was all that was left. Like he was trying to push himself away, only to find that who he was looking for didn’t exist anymore.

“It just feels like the whole world is against me being happy, sometimes,” Brendon said. And it did feel like that, like everything was just managing to build up and weigh down on his chest. Maybe it wasn’t just Brendon, maybe it was all of them, maybe he was right and everybody was secretly miserable.

Dallon wondered if maybe Brendon fed off of other’s anxiety, sapped it right from their pores. Perhaps it was that simple, some sort of cycle, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. It was getting harder and harder to tell.

“Maybe,” Dallon agreed.

Brendon looked away, toward the row of seats in front of him, and the row before that, and suede carpeting and velvet ropes and a world he didn’t belong in. Dallon was right. This wasn’t his life. This wasn’t him. He didn’t fit in here. He didn’t fit in anywhere, that was true, but... there was a difference between the dichotomy of his truths and others.

“You’re so beautiful,” Dallon added suddenly, examining the pale slope of his cheek, the little slit in his right eyebrow where it didn’t grow, his lips bitten red and raw with worry. He was. Brendon looked up at him with muted eyes, almost seeming bored but not as so, thinking something but not saying it. He picked at the skin around his fingers and stared at him imperceptibly like it meant more. It didn’t.

“Rose-colored glasses.” He attributed the thought, and then again, maybe being able to tell the genesis of his fault wasn’t the hardest part. “You know, you tell me you love me a lot more than you did before what happened.”

Dallon nodded slowly, and for a second Brendon couldn’t believe that he would admit to it before he realized that this was Dallon, and for a long time he was stuck in a cycle of not believing things that he did. Good things, mostly. Some fractions of his past. He was good at surprising Brendon. “I think you need to hear it now more than ever.” He confessed.

Huh. Brendon turned back toward the empty stage and pedestal, presenting nothing at all under shining lights. It was weirdly beautiful, the auction house sitting quiet and alone with only two inhabitants, like its day had ended and it was gearing up to rest. People came and sold their old things, people came and bought them. Sometimes Brendon didn’t understand the concept of wanting something used already. Maybe there were just a lot of things he didn’t understand.

“It feels... diluted sometimes.” Dallon admitted, and Brendon looked down at his lap because in that moment it felt easier, somehow. “Telling you I love you. I think that sometimes you run out of I love you’s and I never want to run out of them.”

Brendon looked at him again, thinking that it wasn’t so complicated when he thought about it, but he and Dallon were different in that regard. Easy became convoluted and things always ended up twisted when they talked about them, because Brendon liked to believe things were simple and Dallon didn’t do idealistic. Brendon did. Maybe that was what got him here in the first place. But still, Brendon understood, or at least he tried. “I’m the opposite. I think it’s special, you know? Cause, like. Me saying I love you five times in the span of an hour means that in that hour, I thought about how much I love you five separate times. I think that’s so fucking beautiful.”

“Guess it just depends.” Dallon shrugged, and Brendon did too, tracing the veins of his thumb.

“Yeah, well.” Brendon leaned back in his seat and put his toes on the back of the seat in front of him. “It’s not like it goes out of style.”

“Unlike your girl’s Walmart leggings.” Dallon teased, making Brendon smack his thigh but laugh anyway. And Brendon loved him, loved him so much that sometimes it made his heart wonder how it could love so hard. Maybe that was the most beautiful thing of all. Maybe the world was better through rose-colored glasses, seeing everything for how it was opposed to what. He had so much to learn. “Hey, you wanna get out of here?”

Brendon looked around again, appreciated the way the spotlights shone against smooth wood and nodded. He knew there was a point in there somewhere. That he couldn’t take all of the good things he had for granted. He got up, letting Dallon take his hand, and there were good things and bad things. He just had to learn to appreciate both of them.


	64. Chapter 63: That's What's Special About the Sun

Brendon shot the straw wrapper at Dallon’s face and made him recoil, but they laughed in unison as Dallon reached out to roll it between his fingers. “Stop.” He whined, smiling nonetheless, and Brendon stuck his tongue, reaching out for a fry. “You know, I would have taken you somewhere fancy.”

“I’ve had enough fancy for the day.” Brendon promised, tugging his hoodie tighter around him as if remembering how self-conscious he had been. He was so cognizant of that stuff sometimes. But it was different now, like he’d been through so much that insecurity felt less deep rooted. “I wish you told me where we were going so that I could have changed, though.”

“There’s no fun in that. You’re authentic.” Dallon nodded his head at him respectfully, reaching out for his burger. “Besides, you would have said no if I told you we were going to a rich people auction house.”

“You’re probably right.” He granted, but Dallon had always had interesting date ideas. It was part of his creativity and charm. Brendon loved that about him. “I like this. Spending time together.” He added, picking at his fries and kicking at Dallon’s feet under the table like a child. “You’re fun to be around.”

“Awe. You’re fun to be around too.” Dallon kicked him back, smiling and playing with the straw of his drink. “Usually people get sick of me by now.”

“Nonsense.” Brendon waved a hand at him, but it made him think. “Hey, I have a question.” He added as a second thought, waiting for a nod before he asked. “Did you— um. Did you ever have any friends aside from Josh and Ryan? Asking in a way that doesn’t sound as mean as it came out?”

Dallon laughed, didn’t take it personally, shrugging one shoulder as he rested his heel on the edge of his side of the booth. “Not really. Silo, my roommate from the hospital, a few people I met here and there. In elementary school I wasn’t exactly the coolest kid in the class, y’know, I was kinda nerdy and read comic books while all the other boys liked sports. I sat down at recess because I hated being active, I was busy doing art and criticizing everybody else, and I had Ryan so I didn’t want anybody else. I was always better solitary or in small groups.”

Brendon quirked an eyebrow, making a cheers with the french fry he was holding. “I hear that.”

“And y’know, I went to a religious private middle school in a different city so at that time everybody else already had their group of friends. Josh had just moved to Nevada so he was new too. We gravitated toward each other because we were the only people completely alone. So I introduced him to Ryan and we all became friends, and then it just... I don't know. It just seemed easier to stick together. Needless to say when I wasn’t getting along with them I had no one to run to.”

“Ah. Enter Brendon.” He made a gesture with his hand and Dallon nodded, going to grab his burger again. “No, I was the same. Tyler moved here in fifth grade. I was sitting alone at lunch and he just came over and said, ‘you seem friendly enough’, and sat down across from me. It was the first time anybody had ever willingly sat with me at lunch. I cried a lot at school, nobody wanted to be friends with the boy that was always crying. But he stayed, and he talked to me every day, I didn’t talk much so he did all the talking. He still does.” Dallon smiled, nodding again in agreement. “Then I grew up and high schoolers don’t think boys wearing nail polish is cool, and I refused to hide. I should have, looking back on it, but I wouldn’t at the time. I don’t know why he stuck through all of it, all my drama, but I figured it was okay that I didn’t know anyone else because I had a great best friend already.”

“I had some pretty fucking great friends too.” Dallon shook his head, looking at the wall unseeingly like he were reminiscing. Like he could see the memories flash. He took advantage of how good those two were to him. “Josh has never gotten mad at me. Not once. That boy is a seriously an— an angel. And Ryan.” He sighed, reaching out to play with his food. “I was so bad to him. And that in itself says something about him. About how great of a person he is. A lot of bad things have happened to me but those two aren’t one them.”

“No, they’re not. They’re good friends. So is Tyler. So are you.” Another thing that he would miss if he were gone. Dallon looked up at him solemnly, reaching out for his soda again and not saying what he wanted to say. “Hey, you liked comics?” He nodded, and Brendon smiled. “I did too.”

“Really?” He asked, and when Brendon nodded Dallon laughed, reaching out to shove his shoulder. “Brendon!” Brendon laughed too, grabbing his own burger and taking a bite to finish it when Dallon sat back in his seat. “We would have been such great friends when we were kids.”

“We probably would have.” Brendon agreed before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I just hate that we didn’t have each other then. Woulda been one more person to have each other’s backs.”

“Well, we have each other now. That counts for something.” Dallon reasoned, and Brendon guessed it did.

He watched Dallon smile, and he guessed it did.

“Yeah, it counts for a lot.” He said, crumbling the wrapping paper of his food and dropping it on their tray. “You wanna get going?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m gonna take the rest of this home.” Dallon started to wrap the second half of his burger and slid it back into the bag, rolling it up and then sliding out of the booth.

Brendon threw what was on the tray in the trash and set it down on the top, turning to smile at the man behind the counter as Dallon placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him out. Dallon was right; they could have gone somewhere fancy, to a nice restaurant where he’d have to change or else everyone would stare at him. They could have, but it just wasn’t them.

Brendon followed him out into the parking lot, watching his feet step in time with Dallon’s. They fell in sync so often. It was like they never fell out of it. He wanted to believe that were true, or at least trick himself into thinking so, but it was a lie. It was a fallacy. He couldn’t tell himself none of that ever happened. It wasn’t fair.

Dallon must had recognized the pensive look on his face because he turned to look at Brendon quietly, eyes flickering across his features, and asked quietly, but with assurance in his tone, “Whatcha thinkin’ Urie?”

Brendon shook his head, distraught all of a sudden. He hadn’t known how to put it into words, wasn’t even sure there were words that would fit in this situation because sorry had lost its meaning forever ago. “I tried to break up with you.” He said calculatedly, the words stinging on his tongue. “And out of all the things I’ve done in the past few months, that’s the worst. Because some of it wasn’t my fault, some of it I couldn’t help, but this... this was my fault. This was me. And I’m sorry, because you— you do everything. You do absolutely everything and you are everything and I tried to ruin that.” He looked down at their sneakers, so close together now, and a few tears slid down his cheeks. “And I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to break us. You’re my hero and I can’t even hold us up right. You take care of me and I— I can’t-“

“Hey, Bren, look up. Look at me.” He whispered, tucking a finger under his chin and tilting it upward when Brendon tried not to look at him. Their shoulders brushed, closer now as Brendon reached up to tug at his jacket, and suddenly he felt enough to remind him that Dallon had him in his hands. “I take care of you because you take care of me. It’s not always completely balanced but it doesn’t have to be. Not every partnership is an equilibrium but that doesn’t mean we don’t need each other. Take the sun, for example, y’know? The sun and the moon work together to reflect light off of each other and it’s— it’s two sided. That’s what we are. We reflect each other’s light. We let each other shine. Even if for a minute, the other can’t.”

Brendon looked down at the ground and tightened his grip on the sides of Dallon’s jacket. “That’s the thing, though. I feel like— fuck, I feel like you’ve always done everything for me and I haven’t done anything for you. It’s always you taking care of me and it’s not fair, you know? I wish I was better. I wish I was better to you.”

Dallon shifted, shaking his head softly. There was no use in wishing when there were no stars involved. “That’s what’s special about the sun. She breaks for the moon even when she doesn’t want to, and then she lets her borrow her light. I’m gonna be that for you, even if it’s hard, because I love you and I promised myself that I would never let you lose your light. I wanna see that sparkle in your eye forever.” Dallon placed a finger under his chin to tilt it upward again and met his eyes. Tears were glistening in them, but for once in months they weren’t because he was sad. They were a symbol of his respect, his gratitude, a way to say that he would bend and break to let Dallon have his light too. Two-sided, support; that was what they were built on.

Brendon’s eyebrows knit together when Dallon placed either hand on the side of his head, fingers tangling in the messy brown locks, and pulled him in for a hug. “Thank you,” Brendon managed to get out before he burrowed into Dallon, as if trying to steal his strength. He didn’t need to steal it, though. Dallon was far too generous. Too generous for his own good, sometimes.

“You’re gonna be okay one day. I know you are,” Dallon whispered.

Brendon swore he would take it to heart. Because Dallon was right, he had to be, and Brendon wanted to believe him. Because with faith came trust, and he never knew how to until he was taught. Like a child learning how to walk, he was learning how to find that trust in others, in himself, in his world. Fear and pride and hope clung to his skin with the outline of cherry chapstick, and he would take it to heart. He had to.

* * *

Brendon woke up disgruntled as usual, with hair in his mouth and sweaty because it was late April and starting to get hot. His stomach felt uneasy and he could hear his mother banging some pans around downstairs, meaning she was making breakfast. Now that his siblings were all in college they had their own schedules to follow, she only had one high schooler left to wake at six thirty each morning. But it was Sunday, she didn’t have to wake anybody. He always slept in on Sundays.

He reached over to grab his glasses and his phone, excused himself for taking a minute to remember which went on his face, because he was still half asleep and it had been a long couple of months. His phone lit up with a few notifications, and he opened Dallon’s first like routine.

Dally: would you hate me if I made you get out early to come spend the day with me

He sat up on his elbows, furrowing his eyebrows at the screen and realizing how early it was.

Bumblebee: well that would depend on what we’re doing

Dally: It’s a surprise but I wanna take you out. there’s something I wanna do that I really think you’ll like

Bumblebee: that sounds SO shady but if it gets me out of the house then I’m down

Dally: great! wear something very comfortable and sneakers I’ll pick you up at nine

Brendon squinted at the bright sunlight leaking into his room, and he really just didn’t understand.

Dallon pulled up at nine like he’d promised, wearing sunglasses and grinning cheekily when Brendon climbed in the car. “You gonna tell me where we’re going?” He asked but Dallon shook his head, so he turned up the music and figured he’d enjoy the time alone with him.

They didn’t talk much, just sat in amicable silence as Sparks played, until Dallon parked somewhere Brendon didn’t recognize. It was a trail of some sort. A mountain. He looked up at it out his window, frowning to himself as Dallon clicked the doors unlocked.

“What is this?” Brendon asked, put off, but climbed out with him anyway.

He watched Dallon cross the car to grab his bag out of the backseat, making sure to grab an extra water bottle. “We’re going on a hike.” He told him matter-of-factly, but as if it was nothing. As if it wasn’t a decision he’d made and decided to include Brendon too, as he knew he would never agree to it. A hike. What did Brendon need to hike to?

“Um.” He watched Dallon sling the bag over his shoulder. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Dallon smiled at him, gesturing for him to follow. “Come on, then.”

“Okay.” Brendon agreed, but he was apprehensive as he let Dallon guide him to the trail. “Yeah. Okay. I’m coming.”

* * *

“Brendon.” Dallon called in exasperation, stopping to let his boyfriend catch up. Brendon squinted up at him, wiping sweat off his forehead and trying to get to him without tripping on rocks. “You’ve really never hiked? With your family?”

“No. I make a point not to do anything physically straining.” He huffed, pushing a hand through his hair. Dallon gave him a look as if to say I really doubt that, and Brendon shot back a save it look of his own, so Dallon turned back toward the path. “Where are we, anyway?” He stopped to put his hands on his knees to catch his breath, though the fresh air felt good in his lungs.

Dallon turned to smile at him again, pushing a hand through his hair too though it was a lot less tangled than Brendon’s. “Relax, we’re still in Nevada. Just a little more west. C’mon. I have more water if you need it.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need it.” Brendon said, but continued to follow him up the path with a sigh. He had told Dallon once upon a time: no dates with any heavy physical activity. This counted. “I didn’t even know you hiked. Let alone huge fucking hikes like this one.”

“This is a beginner’s hike, Brendon.” He laughed, turning again to make sure he was okay. “And I don’t. Not really. But when my dad died—“ He turned to continue, and Brendon followed close behind, trying to remember to breathe. “And when I was mad at Ryan— Josh took me on this hike. He likes this stuff. I was at this point where I had gotten out of the hospital, and I didn’t want to talk about it. And Josh said, ‘I won’t make you talk about it. You don’t have to talk to me. You just have to breathe and appreciate something’. And I didn’t understand it at first, what he meant, but then I just— got it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I got it. Appreciating something. And it never cured me, and it never answered all my questions, but for weeks I had been pathetic and angry and upset at everything. I wasn’t seeing the good in anything anymore. And I didn’t want to be like that. I didn’t want it to be permanent.” He handed Brendon a bottle of water when he stopped, crouching down to take a breath. “There’s no cure for depression. There’s no way to make it all suddenly go away. But there are ways to find these fleeting moments where you have this realization that you’re gonna be okay.”

Brendon took a sip of the water and studied Dallon’s face, slick with sweat and honest. “That’s what I’ve been trying to look for for months.”

“Sometimes it takes a while, but it’ll surprise you.” He pat his shoulder, leading him back up the trail when he was ready. “I mean, I felt dead, Brendon. Like it may as well have been me. And I did this hike, and I puked the first time cause at that point I hadn’t been eating and it was either puking up whatever was in me or passing out and, y’know, probably falling down the side of a mountain. But after that I sat down for a little while, and Josh made me eat, and so I was eating some fruit and granola bars when he asked me if I wanted to turn around and go down. And I said no, y’know, I wanted to follow through with something. I wanted to be this unsung hero. I wanted to do something I didn’t think I would be able to do.”

He gestured out toward the world, the mountains and the sun beating down on the landscape. The clouds that weren’t gray but white for once, and not heavy with tears like Brendon had been for a while. “Yeah, well. I might be throwing up too.”

“Let me know and we’ll stop. Watch your step.” He pointed to tree roots sticking out of the ground and Brendon let out a noise of distress, this was almost too much for him. “C’mon, Bren, we’re almost there.”

“How much is almost?” He whined. Dallon just laughed, but Brendon wasn’t joking, he really needed to lie down, and he reached out to stop him so he could get out his water. “For your sake, I hope I have the same reaction, cause if I don’t I’m pushing you off.”

“I’ll accept it.” He held the water bottle for Brendon when he bent down to tie his shoe. “You’ve really never gone on a hike? Not even a little one? You live in Nevada.”

“Yeah. Ah. My family are cooks.” He stood up straight and dusted himself off before they kept going, Brendon letting his partner lead the way. “We never were very out and active. Besides, I always liked painting my nails and watching Barbie movies. I didn’t want to go hiking. I was never active.”

“You could have fooled me. I mean, judging by the way you are in bed...”

“Hey!” Brendon kicked absently at the path, as if he’d get him, and Dallon turned to grin at him over his shoulder. “You don’t strike me as the hiking type either, you know.”

“I’m not. Sometimes I just need to be. It’s good to change things up when you need to. Try something new. I’ll try anything once. Some things, I’ll try more than once.”

“Hm.” Brendon said nothing else, just followed him and watched his feet so he wouldn’t trip.

They were silent for a while, as Dallon seemed to know the way and Brendon just let him guide him. He didn’t know what this was supposed to do. If nature would cure him. It seemed like nothing could, at this point.

The air got colder as they reached the top, and Brendon was about to ask if they were almost there like an irritated child on a long car ride until he saw it. The peak of the mountain, some layers of rocks and trees surrounding it. Dallon smiled to himself, this smile of accomplishment, and headed toward the flat layer up at the top as Brendon took a deep breath.

He could see everything. The world around him. He felt so small, in that moment. So infinitesimal. Like a tiny dot on a map. A spec in the universe. He never felt such a sense of relief.

“Oh my god.” He breathed out, dropping his backpack on the floor beside him and shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh my god, Dallon.”

“I told you.” He laughed, hands on his hips, squinting out at the miles ahead of them. “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it? The mountains. The sky. It makes you feel...”

“Free.” Brendon finished for him, and Dallon turned to smile at him as Brendon stood beside him. He tried to take it all in just then, the breeze on his skin, cooling his sweat but in a good way. Free. That was the best way to put it. He felt free. Brendon turned to look at him, wonderstruck.

“Sometimes I think about how I felt that day when I reached the top.” Dallon told him, as if trying to teach him a lesson. “It’s a cliché, maybe, but I mean it, Brendon. This shit will make you feel alive.”

It was gravitational. Like the thrill of doing something you know you shouldn’t be doing, or the rush of adrenaline he got when he kissed him. Dallon was a drug he’d need a hell of a lot of rehab for.

And it seemed somehow that he was a bird of passage. Or a magnet in each way. Resilient, but always searching for more. A plummet into raging waters. A stolen car on the freeway. A man of his word though words fucking hurt. And falling for him was risky, reckless, but it was real.

Dallon pressed his lips to Brendon’s suddenly, a kiss like butterfly wings, a candid honey kiss, one he felt deep in his stomach. And Brendon held his body close to his, felt his heart beating because they were beating in time.

Looking over the city Brendon felt indestructible, infinite, like the virulence of his lost innocence was cured and he was left with a second chance and newfound hope. He tightened his grip on Dallon’s shoulders, wind on his face and chills running down his spine, and it was like he could see the rest of the world from here. His breathing was short as he looked over the city, completely speechless, feeling his chest rise and fall against Dallon’s. He felt high. He never wanted to come down.

“I feel like we can live forever.” He said in disbelief, and for the first time mortality seemed notional to him.

“We can. Just you and me.” Dallon whispered, brushing a thumb over Brendon’s cheekbone. It felt based in concrete, solid. Honest. For months he had felt numb, like he was stuck in place while everything moved a thousand miles an hour around him. But now everything came rushing back, the feeling, the sinful passion and bravery in being unapologetic. The way he was before he found out about everything pernicious that made him hide for years. “But I wouldn’t want to.” He added after a minute. Brendon pulled away from his embrace, eyes daring and uneasy. “Not from like, a suicidal standpoint. It’s just that if we live forever, then we could live through so many wars, or the deterioration of our planet, and everyone we love would die.”

“Everyone we love will die anyway, Dallon.” Brendon said, and something in Dallon’s eyes softened as he realized that maybe Brendon knew more about this world’s brutality than he had ever let on. “And our planet may already be deteriorating, and we’re not to say that another war won’t start tomorrow. I just know that sometimes when I’m with you I never want it to end.”

“I’m gonna marry you one day.” Dallon whispered like it were a secret, and Brendon’s eyes glistened. “I swear I will. And I could propose to you right now, but I think that if I don’t it’ll say more. I’m promising to marry you but in a few years I’ll propose and you’ll know that I meant it now. You’ll know this was real.”

“Holy shit.” Brendon breathed out like he’d never known the gravity of this before, but he had to have. It was the only thing that ever made sense in this world.

Dallon leaned in to kiss underneath his ear, adding, “And now every day until I do it you’re gonna be waiting for a proposal.”

Brendon laughed, bright and loud and happy, and Dallon grinned as he pulled him into a hug. “What if I proposed to you?” He asked, and Dallon only pulled away to give him a skeptical smile. “Seriously. What if I proposed to you right now?”

“I suppose I couldn’t stop you,” Dallon figured, but never said not to.

“Okay. Then marry me.” He said like it were a challenge, and suddenly he realized that was what he wanted to do. He wanted a life with the boy that made him feel things he never even knew he could feel. Dallon laughed, and Brendon insisted, “I’m serious, Dallon. Marry me.”

“One day.” Dallon promised, and that was somehow a good enough answer. “One day, Brendon. We need to take things one step at a time right now.”

“But it’s not a no.”

“It’s not a no.” He confirmed. Brendon’s heart pounded, and it was silly, downright stupid, but he knew how he felt. It wasn’t just stupid teenage love. It was so, so real. “C’mon. Sit down. The air is so fresh up here.” He directed, like things suddenly got too serious, but that was alright with Brendon. He didn’t need a proposal. He just needed a promise.

Brendon did as he was told, his legs suddenly tired, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand and squinting. “Yeah, it is.” He agreed, but his head was still reeling. It’s not a no. That spoke a million more words than it said. “The sun makes me feel so new. I wish I spent more time in the sun.”

“It’s a beautiful thing, sunlight, isn’t it?” Dallon said absently, looking out over the rocks. “We get a lot of it out here.”

“I never even noticed.” Brendon admitted, but he felt it on his skin. The fresh sunlight, bringing out his freckles and making him sweat but making him feel clean. He loved that feeling of being clean. “I feel like— like maybe I spend so much time hiding from the world that I never realize the good parts of it.”

“Yeah, I was that way too, for a while. I always found myself feeling so much better when I went out into the world.” He pushed his hair out of his eyes, squinting at the mountains and then back at Brendon, who was digging in his bag for more water. “You know Josh runs track?”

Brendon nodded, twisting the cap off. “Tyler’s mentioned it once or twice.”

“Yeah. He runs track. He’s been doing it for years. In middle school— when we went to the Lake Mead Christian Academy— I would go to his track practices. I would just sit in the bleachers, try to understand why anybody would want to run for fun, and my dad would pick us up after. We had a ritual where every single Friday Josh, Ryan, and I would go downtown to get fries and milkshakes and talk about our week. We did it up until my dad died. Then I didn’t want to talk anymore.”

He frowned, tucking the bottle in between his crossed legs. “That must have sucked. Cutting off a tradition like that.”

“It did. But I don’t mind so much anymore. You make new traditions. Now we’re teenagers with good phones and can have a group chat to keep up with each other when we don’t have the time to hang out. Not to mention the fact that I have a car so I can just show up whenever I want. I’m still always talking to them. More than I used to be, anyway. Technology may have changed this generation but it’s a good thing we have that ability to communicate constantly now.”

Brendon nodded absently, looking up to watch the clouds pass slowly above him. They were so high up. He hadn’t even realized he could do this. Be so brave. “I still prefer to do things in person.” He observed, the fresh air cooling the sweat on his skin. Nothing on his phone could ever be as amazing as this.

“Me too.” Dallon assured him, and turned to look at him again as the wind blew transiently. “I tried to run on that track once. I spent almost every day there during middle school. After my dad died, I wanted to feel what Josh felt. That feeling of letting your tension out. So I ran. And it didn’t help. Just made my body hurt.”

Brendon half smiled, shifting to support his weight with one hand. “Is there a lesson behind this?” He asked, as with Dallon there always seemed to be one.

Dallon shrugged one shoulder. “Just a story. But you can take from it wherever you want.”

“Hm.” Brendon hummed, and Dallon sat down on his knees beside him. Brendon’s lips tilted into a smile as Dallon made himself comfortable, reaching out a hand to take Brendon’s without a word. Things felt better up here. With a completely new perspective. From up above, it was all so simple. They were simple. “It’s beautiful out here.” Brendon sighed suddenly, twisting his hand with Dallon’s and observing the way light flashed on the wedding band.

“I knew you’d love it.” Dallon said, so sure of himself, but then again he knew Brendon well. “It always made me feel better. Put things in perspective. I figured it could have the same effect on you.”

“It does.” Brendon confirmed, wondering why he hadn’t done this months ago. He needed fresh air. The sun. A reminder that he wasn’t the center of the earth.

He leaned in to kiss him again, softer this time, just a greeting. Dallon kissed him back, never questioned it, and slid a hand up to the side of his neck, holding him close without bothering to let him go. Brendon was feeling better. He was. Some days were better than others, he knew it would be like that for the rest of his life, but it was okay. He was coming to terms with it.

“Thank you for showing this to me.” He whispered, voice soft with the wind as Dallon touched his face.

“I want to share everything I love with you.” Dallon said, and it shouldn’t have been as shocking as it was. Dallon loved him. Brendon knew that. It was just so nice to hear it.

Just the two of them, on top of the world.

“So what if...” Brendon leaned back on his elbows suddenly, squinting up at the sun with no fear as Dallon turned to look at him. “What if I got ordained online right now and married us up here?”

Dallon burst out into laughter and Brendon giggled, only half joking. He wanted this to last forever. He and Dallon. It was stupid, it was puppy love, but somehow felt so much realer. He wanted to be with him forever. It didn’t feel as fleeting as it had some days.

“I guess I couldn’t stop you. Though I’m not sure you’re allowed to marry yourself, technically.”

“Whatever. Mormons are weird. We can do whatever we want.”

“That is true.” Dallon nodded in agreement, deciding to humor him. “How are you feeling?” He added, more serious this time. That was the point of this, anyway. To make Brendon feel better. Dallon always somehow knew how.

How was he feeling? That was a loaded question “Okay.” He decided on, turning to nod at him as if reaffirming it himself. He was okay. For the first time in a while, he was okay. “I’m okay. I came to this realization the other day.”

Dallon looked at him with intrigue. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“A few months ago Ms. Kenny told me that I was recovering and that I wasn’t a victim but a survivor. I thought that was bullshit. I thought that my experience wasn’t as bad as everything I’d read online or heard about. And I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot about that. And I guess I just see it different now. I mean, I am recovering. I have been this whole time. I just thought that I had to blame myself because I didn’t really comprehend the fact that sometimes people do things without motive. Or in this case, motive that I had nothing to do with. Whether it was a hate crime or something else, I couldn’t control it. There was nothing I could have done to stop it.”

Dallon turned to look at him, surprised though he had a reason to be. “Wow, Bren. That’s a really good step.”

“Yeah, I mean, it took me a really long time to realize that my getting drugged and assaulted wasn’t my fault. I blamed myself, and I was really hard on myself, but I know now that it wasn’t anything I did. Some people have cruel intentions and they’ll take advantage of somebody weak and vulnerable.”

“And now you just have to get better.”

“Yeah.” He sighed, and stared out at the mountains around him, encircling him like he were their center. “Yeah, now I just have to get better.”

* * *

Brendon pulled the passenger side door shut beside him, listening to the sound of Dallon thumbing through his keys and smiling. He was warm all over, but not hot, just comfortable. He liked the feeling of sunshine on his skin. He’d never even realized.

“I had a good morning,” Brendon told him suddenly, settling comfortably in his seat.

“I did too.” Dallon agreed honestly, Brendon knew that tone of voice. He beamed at him and went to buckle his seatbelt, but stopped when Dallon took a deep breath beside him and turned in his seat. “Look, Bren.” He started hesitantly, and Brendon let him take his hands. “I’m gonna drop you off at home, and I’m gonna go home, and then... then we’re not gonna talk for a few days, okay?”

Brendon’s eyebrows knit together in confusion and he sat back, shocked. They had a good day. He thought they were getting better. “What? Why?”

He took a deep breath, as if he had been holding it for hours. Maybe he had been. “You were right: I need to get help. For months I’ve been denying it and pretending that I’m okay and lying. I’ve been resorting to old habits and hurting the people around me and even though I’ve been taking small steps toward getting better— going to therapy is a good step— I need to fix this. I don’t feel like myself. I’m letting myself get so deep into the old me that it’s scary. I don’t think it has anything to do with you, I just think it’s my innate reaction to all of the things going on in my life. My mom dating, and what’s going on with Ryan, and college, and the fact that I’ve been so irritable trying to figure out where I fit into all of this. I’ve been a really shitty boyfriend for months and that isn’t me. It just doesn’t feel like me. So for a few days I’m gonna go back to the hospital.”

Brendon wiped his eyes as tears began to escape and blinked at him incredulously. “You are?” He asked, not expecting that. He didn’t even really know what he was expecting. Not a confession, though. Anything but that.

“Yeah. Not for long, not unless they think I need it, but I should be out by the end of the week. I just think I should go get my head on straight. I’ve been feeling weird lately, you know? I snapped at you and have been regressing and I haven’t been myself. I want to make sure I take care of myself. I wanna be able to take care of you. So I’m gonna go and get my shit together and I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Okay.” He nodded, and reached out to pull him into a hug without a question. That was a really big step. He was shocked that Dallon was taking it. “Of course that’s okay. I’m really proud of you, Dal.”

“Thank you. I’m proud of me too.” He admitted, pressing his nose to Brendon’s shoulder. Brendon closed his eyes, sliding a hand up to his shoulder, and when Dallon pulled away Brendon wouldn’t let him. He laughed, knew Brendon was attached in one way or another, and clung onto him the way that Brendon did. He deserved to cling on to him. It meant something to them.

They were quiet on the ride home, but it was comfortable silence. They didn’t often have silence that wasn’t comfortable. Brendon watched him watch the road, the way his fingers moved on the feel, his eyes oscillating, the way his hair dried to his forehead with sweat. He was beautiful even then. Brendon had no idea how he deserved him.

“Alright.” Dallon sighed when he pulled up to the diner, just for the sake of saying something. Breaking the silence. Brendon looked out his window, taking a deep breath, and went to push open the door.

“Good luck, okay?” He said quietly, half out of the car, but with this sternness in his voice. He knew the gravity that this held. Dallon did too. He nodded like a vow, a promise, and Brendon leaned in to kiss him, leaving a smile in his wake. “I love you. I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Yeah, you will. I love you, Urie.”

Brendon shut the door behind him and went to open the door that led right upstairs, waiting until Dallon was gone to close it. He was doing the right thing. Brendon knew that. He was just scared, anyway.

* * *

On Monday, Brendon had his meeting with Ms. Kenny as usual. She greeted him with a nod and let him pick out a soda. He chose Sprite, and sat down in the chair across from her, dropping his bag beside him.

“Dallon is at the hospital for a few days. Getting help.” He told her, starting out their conversation for the day.

“That’s really good, Brendon.” She nodded in that way she did when she meant what she was saying. She worried about Dallon often. Brendon had come to realize that. This was a big deal for everybody who knew who he really was. “How are you feeling about it?”

“I’m really proud of him.” He went to tug at the chain around his neck, feeling the brush of Dallon’s fingertips when he put it on him all those months ago. “We’ve been really convoluted this year. Good days and bad days and whatever, you know? But he’s my best friend. He’s my partner. I never want to know what life is like without him. It’s like I can’t even remember. So for him to be taking this huge step at trying to get better... it means that he cares about us. What happens to us. That’s really important to me.”

“That is a really good step.” She agreed, writing something down. “So you’re doing better, then?”

“Yeah I’m doing better. I still have bad days and I’m still anxious and paranoid but I can feel myself slowly becoming better. It feels really good to admit I need help and then get it.” He admitted, but he never thought he’d say it.

“Good, Brendon. That’s good. How about we go over your progress? Talk about where you are now with your mental health and your grades and everything.”

“Yeah. Sure. Let’s do that.” Brendon agreed, because it finally felt like he was able to say that he was making progress. He felt confident about that. Like he was finally ready.

“So Dallon’s at the hospital, huh?” Ryan asked that afternoon as he slid into the seat across from Brendon in the library at lunch, making him look up from his homework. He’d been trying to make up for lost time, getting some late assignments ready to turn in. He nodded, reaching out to pull his jacket away to give him room. “Good. I’m really glad he’s finally admitting that he needs to. He told me that it didn’t help but it did. He’s just stubborn.”

“Tell me about it.” Brendon sighed, resting his cheek in his hand. “I’ve been thinking a lot about something lately. Something he said to me.” Ryan raised an eyebrow, nodding silently. “He said that he doesn’t really care about people. That that’s just how he is. But I don’t really get it. He cares about me, y’know? In his own Dallon type of way. He cares about me. He loves me.”

“He does.” Ryan agreed, and it was reaffirming as Brendon knew Ryan would know above anyone. “He’s just... dramatic. Says shit like that all the time because he thinks it’s true. I mean, to some extent, maybe. It’s hard for him to care about people. But he does. Don’t let his bullshit narcissism get to you.”

“So why does he say it? Just to hurt me?”

“I think it’s more to hurt himself.” Ryan figured, an observation after having watched him push everyone away. “I try not to take everything he says to heart because I know how he gets. I think it’s more that that’s what he believes rather than how he actually feels.” He shrugged, and Brendon watched him flip open a notebook. “He cares about you, Brendon. He can say what he wants, but he cares.”

“He just doesn’t wanna admit it.”

“Admitting he cares about something means having something to lose. That’s a dangerous thing for someone like Dallon.” Ryan shook his head like he were thinking of his own troubled child. Dallon was a difficult person to take care of from any perspective. It was a team effort. Brendon couldn’t figure everything out on his own. “Don’t worry about how he feels about you, Brendon. He’s up your ass. He’s just-“

“Scared. I know.” He interrupted with a sigh. He did. He knew Dallon loved him. Love was just scary for someone who didn’t know how to handle it. “I thought I was supposed to be the scared one. I didn’t realize that he’s just as scared. Just in a different way.”

“I see what you mean. He’s confronting it though, so.” He shrugged, an either-or kind of shrug, but Brendon guessed that really was what mattered. He was scared but he was confronting that fear. Had he learned that from Brendon?

“He’s doing good. I’m really proud of him for going back. For trying to fix things.” It felt like a dream. Dallon trying to make amends with his past. Trying to fix what had been broken. It was too good to be true, but then again he knew its honesty. Dallon was doing better. He was getting smarter. So was Brendon, in his own way.

“It’s more than he’s ever done. Checking himself in willingly. It’s a good step.” He half smiled, maybe a little sheepishly if Brendon could detect it. “This must be all that anyone’s talked to you about, huh?” He then asked, somewhat apologetic in his tone.

“Yeah.” He laughed, tapping his pencil against his notebook aimlessly. “It’s not a bad thing. I’m really glad that he’s taking steps at getting better. You know as well as I do how rare that is.”

“It is rare.” Ryan agreed. “And a really big improvement. A year ago Dallon never would have done this.”

Brendon nodded, knew that to be true, and wondered if he really did have a good effect on him or if that was just his narcissism telling him that. “I was really scared at first, y’know. I thought it meant that he was doing bad. And I guess maybe it does, in a way, cause he wouldn’t go to the hospital if he wasn’t bad. But you know better than I do, I guess, he wouldn’t go back if he didn’t want to get better, right?”

“No, he wouldn’t. He would sulk and hurt himself and lash out. He’s never voluntarily done inpatient because he hates it. He never wanted to settle into it. I think because to him, it meant that something was wrong. That he had to get used to the hospital.” Brendon nodded in agreement, though he never knew Dallon back when he was at his worst. When he was dragged kicking and screaming. “You changed him, Brendon. You’re really good for him.” Ryan added, smiling fondly.

“He’s really good for me too.” Brendon admitted, but it wasn’t a secret. He had always been upfront about how he felt about Dallon Weekes. “I’m glad he’s trying.”

Ryan tilted his head at him, smiling this smile like Brendon couldn’t see what he did. Brendon was sure he couldn’t, but maybe that made it all the more special. “You know, I’m really glad he’s trying too.”

* * *

Dallon stood with one shoulder against the wall as he dialed the number he knew by heart by now, having memorized it when he had no choice but to. Ryan always answered quickly and Dallon watched the ground when he did, his socks cold against the linoleum because he couldn’t be bothered to put on the shoes they gave him.

“Every time I hear that dial tone I get this inexplicable feeling.” Ryan said in lieu of a greeting, and Dallon wasn’t sure whether to smile or frown so he didn’t do either. “I think it’s just my excitement to hear from you. To know that you’re okay. You are okay, right?”

“Mhm. Just calling to say hi. So. Hi.” Ryan laughed on the other line and this time Dallon did smile. “How are you?”

“I’m alright. I was wondering when you were gonna call. I like hearing your voice. Knowing that you’re good. It always worries me a little when you’re in there.”

“I’m better than I ever have been when I was in here. That’s gotta mean something.” He figured, and Ryan made a noise of acknowledgment. “I just think that I’ve been getting used to old habits and pretending that I wasn’t getting bad again when I was. I wanted to stop it before it got worse. I could use a little freshening up, anyway.” He half smiled to himself when he heard Ryan let out a little huff. “So, I wanted to ask— how’s Bren? Is he holding up okay without me?”

“He’s...” Ryan started, but stopped short when he couldn’t seem to find the right words. It wasn’t reaffirming and Dallon felt that familiar anxiety in his stomach when he added, “Look. I know I said I was gonna stop interfering but...”

Dallon rolled his eyes but found his lips curling into a smile as he pressed his shoulder to the wall. Ryan was good at what he did. Dallon respected that more than he used to. “Go ahead.”

Ryan sighed like he were hesitant but then again he was; Dallon never really took advice well. “Please tell him you care about him.” He started, somewhat begging and somewhat just distressed. “He told me that you said you don’t care about anybody and you can’t fucking do that, Dallon. He thinks you’re just doing it to hurt him.”

“You know that’s not what that is.”

“I know, but he doesn’t, Dallon. You can be really harsh sometimes. You can’t tell him shit like you don’t care about anyone. I know you and I know you care about us. You want to keep up this bullshit tough guy loner exterior but you’re just pushing everyone away. You’re pushing him away and he is the most important thing in your life. Don’t treat him like this or one day he’s gonna realize he needs someone who tells him he cares about him.”

Dallon was quiet for a second, staring down at his socks. “You’re right.” He admitted quietly, and Ryan was silent, never one for I told you so’s. “Yeah, you’re right. I need to talk to him. Thank you, Ry.”

“Sure. I’ll see you soon, Dal. Thank you for checking in. Good luck.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon. And thank you too. Bye.” He waited for Ryan to hang up and held the phone to his chest, wondering what he’d done. Why he did it. How he dared claim he loved Brendon Urie when all he did was hurt him.

* * *

Brendon was tapping a steady rhythm on his bowl of cereal with his spoon a few days later when his phone started buzzing on the kitchen table. He squinted at it, having forgotten his glasses in the living room, and reached out to answer it skeptically. “Hello?” He answered, but the response was a weird dial tone. A patient from a hospital in Las Vegas. He pressed one to connect immediately.

“Hi, Bren. It’s Dallon.” A familiar voice greeted, and though it had only been a few days since he’d gone away, Brendon was relieved to hear it. He’d missed him. He always realized that when he wasn’t around.

“Well, you’re the only person I know who’s in a hospital right now, so I kinda figured.” He returned, sketched through a laugh, and added for clarification, “I got that dial tone message thing. How are you?”

“I’m okay. Hangin’ in there.” He said idly, just small talk, as he had called with a reason. “So. Ah. Look. This wasn’t in my plan, I wasn’t originally going to ask, but... come visit me.”

Brendon stopped, setting his spoon down in his cereal bowl and looking up as Mason stepped into the kitchen. “Visit you? Like... at the hospital?” He asked, stupefied, and said nothing when Mason looked at him questioningly.

“Well, that’s where I am, as we’ve established.” He half laughed, and Brendon smiled despite the situation. “Come on. I miss your face. I’ll call my mom and tell her to text you the address. Visiting hours are twelve to four. If someone can drive you after school then I’d love to see you.”

“Well, I have a doctor’s appointment at four thirty so I can probably come. I’ll ask my mom to bring me, she’s not working.” His heart beat fast in his chest though he wasn’t sure why. “If not, I’ll find another way to get there. I wanna see you. I miss you.”

“I miss you too. I’ll see you soon.” They exchanged goodbyes so Brendon hung up, setting his phone back down on the table. He was going to see him. In the hospital, he was going to see him.

“You’re going to visit him?” Mason asked suddenly, and Brendon looked up, distracted. “Dallon?” He added, though there was no one else they could possibly be talking about.

“Yeah. He’s at the hospital, y’know? He’s doing inpatient again. To get better.” He said like it was obvious. Everyone knew he was there. Brendon hasn’t been hiding that.

“Yeah, no, I remember. Just... don’t get too attached to him, little brother, okay?” He advised, but before Brendon could think to respond, Mason left the room. Deliberately disappearing so he didn’t have to elaborate. He frowned, turning to watch him go, wanting to ask exactly what he meant though he was scared to. He didn’t even know if he wanted to know.

Brendon got up, carrying his bowl to the sink, and went to find his mom.

* * *

When the final bell ended, Brendon found his mother’s car waiting for him. He was visiting Dallon before his appointment, close enough to the doctor’s that he wouldn’t have to rush. He just needed to see him. Dallon said he wanted him to visit, and at this point Brendon would do anything to make him smile.

“Are you sure you don’t mind waiting?” He asked his mom as she pulled up in front of the hospital doors soon after, a big looming building that had a whole other world inside.

“Are you kidding? I love Vegas malls.” She laughed to herself but Brendon couldn’t find it in him to laugh along. “Take as much time as you need. Let me know when you’re ready to go, keiki.”

“Okay.” He forced a smile at her and climbed out of the car, not knowing what to expect. He was a guest here. This was Dallon’s place, not his.

He stepped inside, out of the warm air, and found the elevator easily enough. He remembered the floor number that Dallon’s mother had sent him, being the messenger between them, and he clicked the button repeatedly until the elevator closed. He was anxious, inexplicably so. This was Dallon. He knew him.

The door parted slowly and he was greeted with a bare front room, a white desk with a computer and a hallway leading elsewhere. Dallon was waiting patiently for him, leaning against the wall, but he pushed off when he saw him. He sped up his pace but didn’t run, though he looked pleasantly surprised to see him. “Hi.” Dallon said, opening his arms.

“Hi.” Brendon greeted quietly, almost disbelieving, as he enveloped him with all of his energy. Dallon looked different here. Wearing sweatpants and a tee shirt, socks only, a band around his wrist with his name and information printed on it. He was a patient. Brendon seemed to forget that for a second, as he buried his face in his shoulder and sighed. Dallon, his Dallon, in here on his own volition.

“Hi. Hi. Thank you for being here.” Dallon whispered, placing a kiss neatly on his forehead as he took it in. Something from the outside world. Someone. “You have to sign in and get a visitor tag. I’ll show you.”

He guided Brendon to the front desk, nodding a hello at the secretary as he told her Brendon’s name, B-R-E-N-D-O-N, and watched her scribble it on a sticker with the word visitor on it in blue. Brendon stuck it to his shirt, feeling out of place here, like a guest in just another part of Dallon’s life.

“So, what do you think?” Dallon asked suddenly, gesturing around at the bare bones hallway. There weren’t any decorations. Hardly any colors. Brendon said nothing, only looked around, and shook his head as Dallon showed him to the common room.

“It’s like I’m seeing life through a totally different lens.” He admitted. Like everything were in black and white. It was so... monotone. Sad. “It’s the opposite of your room. Of you.”

“Nah. Just another part of me.” He looked back at him and Brendon’s eyes softened, but he didn’t answer, just looked around as Dallon took him to the visitor’s center and gestured toward a comfortable blue chair across from a matching couch. He plopped down on the couch, so Brendon sat across from him, feeling like it were the opposite side of the world. “How was school?” He asked, getting the uncomfortable small talk out of the way.

“It was okay.” Brendon tugged his sweater sleeves over his hands. “Ryan and I are working on an astronomy project together. He’s really smart. Wise. I noticed that about him. Other than that everything is just... y’know. Normal. As normal as it can be. How are you doing?”

“I’m good. I’m scheduled to get out on Friday. Not resisting treatment, I’m taking my meds and confiding in my therapist and talking in group. A lot better than I was last time.”

“That’s good, Dal. That’s really good.” Brendon nodded gently, as if he were talking to a child. He didn’t know what to say. If he should say anything at all. This wasn’t his place. His world.

Dallon nodded too, why was this so awkward, and Brendon looked down at his lap. Dallon was making amends. Brendon was a name on his list. Maybe the first name on his list. He picked at his nail polish, leaving flakes of it on his pants.

“You know I care about you, Brendon.” He added quietly, making Brendon look up from the mess he was making. “I talked to Ryan on the phone and he told me that you were worried about that. That I can't tell you things I don't mean. I’m sorry I ever said it. I’m sorry I have to rely on him to tell me how you’re feeling, too. I’m not even gonna try to defend myself. I’ve been a really shitty boyfriend. I wanted to be better than I ever thought I would be but now I’m just making all the mistakes I predicted.”

Brendon took a deep breath, surprised he’d even admit it. That he was hurting him. They both knew but Brendon didn’t know how to say it. “Why do you say things you don’t mean?” He asked, the question feeling heavy on his tongue. He’d been wanting to know for weeks.

“Because I’m trying to figure out how I feel. Because there’s something... in me, Brendon. I don’t know how to explain it. But something in me feels different. Like I don’t feel things the way other people do. Like I don’t have the same kinds of emotions. Maybe that’s the mental illness or my narcissism or me just being dramatic. But it freaks me out, feeling so different all the time and not knowing how to manage it. I do care about you. Of course I care about you. I think I just show that in a more convoluted way than other people would.”

Brendon observed his face, absorbing the words. He cared about him. He cared. Brendon knew that all along, didn’t he? “And I get that, Dallon. But you have to be up front about that. Just tell me flat out what you mean. I just want to understand you. For years I’ve just tried to understand you.”

“That’s the thing, Brendon. I don’t want you to see me as something to figure out.” He explained, exasperated, but settled down and sighed as if reprimanding himself. He tried to teach himself not to react hastily to things. It was part of his recovery. “I love that you’re curious. I love when you want to know about me. But it’s intimidating. I need to be able to tell you about my past on my terms. I need to trust that I can be honest with you.”

“I feel the same.” Brendon admitted gently, playing with his hands, picking more at chipped green nail polish. “I wanna trust you. I just worry about what’ll happen when I do.”

“I know.” He said solemnly, and Brendon stopped the motion of his hands. “And I’m gonna try to do everything I can to earn back your trust. In the meantime...” He gestured around him buoyantly, making Brendon smile in amusement when he realized that maybe he was looking too deep into things. Dallon cared about him. He was here trying to get better, wasn’t he? “This is my second home. You want a tour?”

“Um...” He looked around awkwardly, unsure of whether that was allowed.

“C’mon. I’m allowed to roam. I’m not high risk. Besides, they’ve got eyes everywhere.” He jumped up, socked feet on the linoleum floor, and reached over the table to take Brendon’s hand. Brendon accepted, hesitance clear in his eyes, but he was starting to believe it. That this was all for a good thing.

“Okay.” He agreed, getting up to follow him.

It was like a labyrinth or something, all those hallways and rooms and no doors. Brendon looked around, lost, but Dallon seemed to know his way around. He’d been here enough, anyway.

“So, here’s where the exit is to the back. There’s no way out from there, it’s all fenced it, but they want us to be able to have some sort of freedom. At least, some sense of it. They take us out in the garden sometimes to get fresh air. It’s psychologically proven that sun has a positive effect on moods. It sucks because there’s not a lot of opportunity to get that sunshine in here. The windows have bars on them and stuff. It’s not all that bad, though. I’m used to it.”

“Wow.” Brendon followed him down the hall, looking at the bare walls and open doorways. “You don’t have doors?”

“Not allowed to hide anything.” He shrugged, and something settled in Brendon’s stomach. Something sad. “The lights are always on so it’s really hard for me to sleep. That’s the thing that sucks the most. I’m always tired. Here’s the rec room. We play board games and do arts and crafts here. It’s a little childish but they think it’s good for the brain, playing games and whatever. And good social interaction. Friendly competition, and all that. Bonding. I don't know. They have connect four, though. I love connect four.”

“I used to play with Matt all the time. I never won.” Brendon said thoughtfully, looking around the room of chairs and tables.

“Huh. I never lost.” Dallon grinned at him and nodded his head back toward the hallway, gesturing for him to follow. “I’m not allowed to have anybody in my room, but it’s not that interesting. They look like everything else. The bed is uncomfortable. You’d think for a bunch of mentally unstable people, they’d at least give us comfy beds.” He didn’t miss the look of concern that Brendon gave him, but chose not to address it regardless. “So, here’s the cafeteria. The food really sucks and they have to give us our meds and check under our tongues and stuff. Sometimes people try to avoid taking them. Or they’ll stash them and take a bunch at once to get high, if that’s what they do. Or to overdose. That’s a risk. They’re really good at catching that stuff before it happens, though. People here are clever but the doctors always win.”

Brendon nodded speechlessly, looking around again. It looked bleak. Like just being in such a dreary environment would drive anybody up the walls. Dallon guided him away from the cafeteria, a few people eating lunch after the crowd had gone, and Brendon watched his sneakers, feeling out of place. “Why don’t you wear shoes?”

“They give us these slip-on shoes and then these shower sandal things, but I don’t really like them. We can’t have our own shoes cause of the shoelaces.” Brendon looked at him skeptically. “You’d be surprised the lengths people would go. They take every precaution.”

“Wow.” Brendon’s eyebrows furrowed in wonderment, watching Dallon’s socked feet cross the slippery linoleum floor. Trying to imagine what it would be like to live somewhere like this. “It’s kind of like prison, isn’t it? Where you’re not allowed to leave and you’re always being watched.”

“Yeah, a little bit. Except here they’re trying to help, y’know? They really overshadow but with good intentions. I’m not allowed to go to the bathroom alone. They have to escort us. I used to find my way around that, but I know better now.” Brendon didn’t ask, but he was nervous nonetheless. “We have group therapy so everyone knows your problems but it works. If you’re open about it, you’re open to methods to fix it. It’s really smart. I hated it at first, the first time I came here, you know, I wouldn’t open up to anybody. I barely liked talking to my therapist. But I’m used to it now. I’m smarter than I used to be. I want to get better now. Here are the bathrooms. They’re kinda like dorms, with communal showers and stuff. I hate it. It made me realize I never wanna dorm.”

“I don’t have enough confidence to shower in front of others.” Brendon mused, following him along.

“Well there are curtains and stuff, you don’t actually ever have to be naked in front of anyone. But yeah, it made me pretty uncomfortable. There’s the room where we have group therapy. It’s down the hall from the therapist’s offices. My therapist is really nice. She actually lets me talk. Not that my current one doesn’t, but... y'know. Every therapist is different.”

“Yeah.” Brendon agreed, but he didn’t really know.

“So, I mean, that’s basically it. Not much. Nothing exciting. But it’s... y'know. My temporary home.” He gestured around, and Brendon nodded. His temporary home. He really had gotten used to the place. “C’mon. You wanna play connect four?”

“Yeah.” Brendon agreed, lacing his fingers with Dallon’s and following him to the room with the board games. Begging for some normalcy, because this was all too unfamiliar. He wasn’t scared, though. Not like he usually would be. He was just nervous.

Dallon showed him to a table in the rec room and went to grab the box for connect four. Brendon looked around as Dallon set it up, barely listening to the small talk he was making as his mind blurred. There were bars on the windows. How could anybody live with bars on the windows? That was so... inhumane. So scary.

“Red or black?” Dallon asked suddenly, and Brendon snapped out of it.

“Uh, black.” He chose, so Dallon slid him all the black pieces.

They played quietly, sitting across from each other and only talking when Dallon laughed at how bad Brendon was, he just couldn’t figure out Dallon’s strategies and Dallon refused to give him a hint. He kicked at his socked feet under the table, though, smiling at him and teasing him and feeling like things were maybe getting back to normal. Or as normal as they could be here, anyway.

“Hey, I have to get going. My appointment...” Brendon mentioned after a while, when Dallon beat him too many times to keep track of. He really wasn’t very good at this game. Couldn’t seem to see the strategies like Dallon could.

“Yeah, no, of course. Visiting hours are almost over, anyway. You’re terrible at connect four. When I get home we’ll have to practice. I can’t date someone who isn’t a worthy opponent. Seriously.” Brendon laughed, reaching out to smack his arm, but didn’t contend. He knew his strengths. “Let me put this away and I’ll walk you to the elevator.” He got up, gathering the pieces and sliding them into the box.

“Thanks. This place is like a labyrinth. I don’t know how you do it.” He sat on his hands awkwardly, watching Dallon return the box to its rightful place.

“Yeah, I know. You learn to navigate it, though. It gets easier with time. Sorry I couldn’t entertain you more. It’s pretty boring in here.”

“Well, sometimes your mind needs a break.” Brendon offered, and Dallon made a noise of agreement as he led him out of the room and down the hall to the elevator, where the secretary at the front desk was checking people out.

Brendon pressed the elevator button after giving her his name, letting his hand linger before he turned back to look at his boyfriend. “I wish we had more time. I had to come after school, and the drive...”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you soon anyway.” Dallon assured him. As long as he saw him. It just mattered that he saw him.

“This was really personal, Dallon.” Brendon added quietly, finally, reaching out to touch his arm and inch closer to him like gravity were drawing him in. “Thank you for opening up to me.”

“Thank you for not running from me when you see these parts of me. They can be really scary for some people. Really intimidating.” He returned, setting a hand on Brendon’s side.

“But it means something to me, that you’d show me. That you were honest.” He nodded solemnly, rubbing his side as he pulled him into a hug. “I’ll see you when you get home. Stay safe.”

“You too. Please practice connect four until I’m back.” Dallon kissed the top of his head and they parted, but it felt too final, and Brendon’s eyes wandered over his face until the elevator behind him dinged. “Bye.”

“I will. I promise. Bye.” Brendon stepped back into the elevator, and they didn’t break each other’s gaze until the door closed between them.

He exhaled tremulously and his hands shook, but he looked up at the ceiling of the elevator and closed his eyes. He was just a visitor. He had to remember that. He was just a visitor in this life he didn’t recognize, but things were going to be better. That was what all of this was for.

He locked it in his mind. Focused in on it when he closed his eyes. It was going to get better. Dallon promised. He did too.

* * *

He felt unsettled when he got to the doctor’s office. Like he should be with Dallon. Not here. His mom pat his thigh from the seat and he got out, letting her lead him to the door. He’d be home in a few days. He sat in the waiting room for a few minutes, minutes he could have stayed with Dallon, learned more about his life, the secrets he used to keep, until his psychiatrist called for him and led him to her office.

He went through the motions, telling her how he felt, his anxiety, not the part about his birthday because she didn’t need to know. He had everything under control now. He stared down at his shoes as she took notes, and presumably crossed this drug off. His mother sat in the chair beside him, he’d asked for her to stay because he was a little more anxious than usual, and she watched carefully as his psychiatrist moved around the room.

“Okay, Brendon, we’re switching your meds again. We’re hoping for better results with these ones. We’re going to put you on... Prozac.” She sketched out the prescription and he looked up at his mom, eyebrows skipping high. He wasn’t expecting them to change them again. They had just a few months ago. “This has been more effective for patients with PTSD.”

“Do I have that?” Brendon asked, accepting the prescription and handing it to his mom for safekeeping.

“Well, we suspect so. We’d have to do a more thorough test, though.” She said, and Brendon’s mother looked distressed but she tucked the prescription into her purse. “But you show symptoms, by what you’ve said. So we’re gonna try something different and see if it works better than what you’ve already taken. You seemed to have a lot of the negative side effects on the past two medications you’ve tried. We’re hoping for better results here. Prozac helps alleviate anxiety and may help with your panic attacks. Take this to your pharmacy, they’ll fill it, and in a couple of months we’ll check in to see if you see any differences. You know, improvements or retrogressions. I’ll make you an appointment for about two months from now. Sound good?”

“Uh-huh.” He got up, and immediately his mother followed with an arm wrapped around his shoulder.

“Thank you.” His mother said sincerely, and they exchanged goodbyes before she led him back to the car.

“This is a good thing, right?” Brendon asked quietly, climbing into the passenger seat. “I mean, labeling it.”

“Yeah, babe. This is a good thing. You’ll get the right medication and we can look into other treatments. We can help you get better. It’s a really good thing.” His mother sounded confident. Not that it was a good diagnosis, it wasn’t— nobody wanted PTSD— but it meant there were more doors. More opportunities. “I’m proud of you, you know. For sticking with this.” Trying to get better, she meant. The old Brendon would have shied away from it. Now he knew his life depended on it.

“It’s just what I have to do.” He said with a shrug, because to him, it was that simple. He had to get better. If he didn’t, then he didn’t know where he’d end up.

“That’s good, that you think that.” She pat his thigh, and he tried to take it to heart. He was working at having a good head on his shoulders. Making progress to care more about himself. “How’s Dallon?” She asked then, realizing she didn’t ask sooner.

“Um, okay. He’s used to it by now. The hospital, I mean. He’s doing okay. I’m glad I got to see him. Even if it is kind of weird. Interacting with this... different version of him.”

“It was very brave of you to do that.” She commended. He didn’t see it as brave. Dallon was his partner. He’d go anywhere for him. Even if it made him a little uncomfortable and wary.

“Mason told me not to get too attached to him.” Brendon added quietly and his mother looked over at him, raising her eyebrows. “I don’t know what he really meant. But it’s stupid. I don’t think me being attached is a bad thing. I mean, maybe being codependent is dangerous. Maybe I never should have gotten attached. But how bad can it be? I mean, how bad is it that I love him and want to be with him?”

“I think...” She sighed, trying to cherry-pick her words. “I think it’s because being partners with somebody who’s sick can be a really dangerous game. But that’s granted that he doesn’t manage it, which he is, Bren. I don’t think Dallon is going to hurt you. Emotionally or otherwise. I just think that Mason is worried that you’re gonna branch out and get better only to be let down again. He’s protective of you. You know that.”

“But I’m fine. I know I’m fine. I won’t let Dallon hurt me. I won’t let anyone hurt me. I respect myself. A lot more now than I did before.”

“Good. Then you’re gonna be fine.” She pat his thigh again with finality, like it was a done deal. He was going to be fine. Set in stone.

“I know I am.” He agreed, because he really believed it. Dallon promised once that he would keep him safe. Brendon was learning how to keep himself safe now, too. Between the two of them, he was going to be fine. He was confident that he would be.


	65. Chapter 64: Dear Future Self (To Whom It May Concern)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another past chapter! :)

Dallon adjusted his collar and looked at himself in the mirror, blue eyes staring back at him dully because he looked stupid. He always looked so stupid. He sighed, pushing down the hem of his shirt, trying to fix the awkward way the sleeves bunched up, and just as he was about to give up and tear the thing off of him, there was a knock on the open bathroom door and he stopped, turning to look.

“You look very handsome, kid. You ready to go?”

“No.” Dallon pouted. This wasn’t even his choice. “Why do I have to go?”

“Because.” His father laughed like it were a joke but Dallon wasn’t finding any of this funny or entertaining, to say the least. He reached out for Dallon’s shoulder, pulling him into a hug. “We want you to get a good education. At least for a few years. I know you’re gonna miss your friends, but this will expand your horizons and hopefully you’ll have some fun.”

“Friend.” He corrected, hugging him back dejectedly. “And it’s already hard enough seeing him cause he lives across town. I don’t need to go to a school in a different city too. Especially one with a stupid uniform. I look dumb. I feel dumb.”

“You’re not dumb, Dallon. And Ryan is still around. We’ll drive you to his house whenever you want. We’ll drive him here, if he needs a ride.” He pat his shoulder, reminding him that this was final. “Look. It means a lot to your mother that you go to a school where you’re learning more about God. They don’t have that in public schools.”

“Which is why I should go to public school.” He insisted, and his dad gave him a look. He didn’t understand. Dallon was twelve. He wanted to choose his own school. Make his own decisions. At that age every kid wanted to. “Daddy. Christian school is weird. I already read the bible. I don’t need classes on it.”

“I think it could be good for you, Dallon.” He insisted. “You’ll learn a lot of new things and make a lot of new friends and you’ll be in an environment where you can find people with the same beliefs. That can be a major foundation for a good friendship.”

“But do you really want me to be one of those kids who only surrounds themselves with people like them? I can’t, like, thrive in a non-diverse environment. I won’t learn anything. I won’t be my own person. Do you want me to be a machine, daddy?”

“Good speech, buddy, but it’s not up for discussion.” He pat his shoulder and Dallon sighed, he knew he wouldn’t get to him, but it was worth a shot. He didn’t want to go. The kids wouldn’t like him there.

“I’m no better than that refrigerator. Sold for mass consumption. Used and thrown away. Expected for one thing and one thing only.” He dramatized and he father found it hard to sympathize when Dallon was being such a brat. As an only child, he tended to be. His dad looked at him over his shoulder and Dallon pouted, tugging at his stupid collar and following him to the kitchen.

“You’re gonna be fine, Dallon. No one has ever died from switching schools and feeling out of place. C’mon, I gotta get you to school. You can’t be late on your first day. Let’s go.” He grabbed his keys off the counter and Dallon pouted again, hesitant, but followed him out the door anyway.

* * *

He hated this place already.

He stared at the bustling cafeteria, where dozens of kids wore the same uniform as him and practically all looked the same. He looked around awkwardly, trying to find a place to sit, but everyone already had their places. Their friends. He didn’t fit in anywhere.

A few people snickered as they walked by him and he looked at them, paranoid, before he rushed to the nearest empty table, opting out of getting a lunch. He played with his hands, wasn’t allowed to have his phone, and he felt so empty, sitting there without Ryan. Without the people he was familiar with.

“Are you new here?”

Dallon looked up to see a boy looking down at him. He was about to ask if he was talking to him but he had to have been: Dallon was the only one sitting alone. He nodded, looking away for a second at the empty seats around him and then at the boy again, realizing he must be too if he was asking. “Um, yeah. Is it that obvious?”

“Well, you kind of have ‘I’m new’ written on your forehead.” He said sheepishly, and Dallon’s eyes widened as he reached up to cover his forehead with his hand. The boy laughed, he didn’t mean it literally, and Dallon wasn’t curious as to why everyone thought he was weird anymore. “Not actually. But you do, however—“ He reached behind Dallon and plucked something off of his back, slamming it down on the table in front of him. “Have ‘loser’ written on your back.”

Dallon looked down at the sticky note with ‘loser’ written on it in a messy sharpie scrawl and sighed. His dad was wrong: these people didn’t like him. He crumbled it up, masking the hurt in his eyes. He hated this school. He really hated this school. “Yeah. Ah. I’m kind of not really fitting in here. First days always suck.”

“Tell me about it.” He slid into the seat across from Dallon, setting his bag on the table. “I just moved here from LA. I thought somewhere so close to Vegas would be cool but now I’m kind of just...”

“Realizing that it sucks?” He supplied for him. “Yeah, I know. I actually live in Boulder City. I used to live in Henderson but the people in Boulder City are kinda like this too, y’know? I think everyone at this age is a jerk. Sometimes I think I’m too mature for these people.”

“I live in Boulder City too!” He laughed, reaching out to punch his wrist. “My name is Joshua, by the way. Josh.”

“Dallon.” Dallon stuck his hand out and Josh shook it, smiling like he were surprised. Making a friend in this place. “You said you moved here from LA? What’s that like?”

“Just like in the movies. Superficial. My dad got a job here so... y’know.” He shrugged. “I miss it. It’s still home, y’know? But still. Moving away.”

“Yeah. I came from Salt Lake City when I was little. I don’t really remember it, though. I go back every Thanksgiving and summer vacations to see family but this is really my home. BC. I never liked living in Henderson.” He played with his hands, feeling like an idiot for talking so much about himself. “So, uh. Who’s your homeroom teacher?”

“Mr. Jax!” Josh told him, and leaned forward to tell him a story as Dallon let himself believe that this was a good step.

* * *

“Hey, kid.” Dallon’s father greeted that afternoon as he pushed the door shut behind him, dropping his backpack and kicking off his sneakers instantly. “How was school?”

“Schoolish.” He shrugged, pushing his shoes against the wall. It felt so good to be home. He always forgot how much he loved being home until he wasn’t anymore. Especially when he was somewhere where no one cared about him. “I got homework already and everyone looks weird dressed the same and it kinda sucks not knowing anybody. I made a friend, though.”

He looked up at him pleasantly as he closed the oven, checking on the roast he was making for dinner. “You did?!”

“Don’t act so surprised.” He tugged at the collar of his uniformed shirt to try and loosen it, feeling so suffocated all of a sudden. “His name is Joshua. He just started going there too so he doesn’t know anyone else. Everyone else already has their friends. I felt so left out.”

“Well, you’re a great kid. You’ll make some friends.” He figured, not really understanding the gravity of having everyone at school find you a freak. He was never popular but at least no one at his old school hated him. These people looked at him like an outsider, but that was because he was one.

“With a bunch of preppy religious kids?” He untucked his shirt from his uncomfortable khakis. “I don’t know if that’s what I want my social life to consist of.”

“You’re so picky.” His father criticized, and Dallon shrugged, sometimes being picky wasn’t a bad thing, as he got up to head out of the kitchen, ruffling his son’s hair as he went. “Don’t take things so seriously, Dal. The odds that you make all your friends in middle school are very slim. Just look forward to high school and college and the rest of your life. You have a bright future ahead of you.”

“You sound like a brochure.” Dallon pointed out, but followed him to the living room. “His mom gave me a ride home. Josh. I said I had to take the bus cause my parents were working and she offered to drive me since he lives in BC too. Where is mom? Is she still at work?”

“She should be home any minute.” He looked at the clock and then back at his son as he took a seat on the couch. “Tell me about your classes.”

“They’re okay.” He made a face; no one cared about the classes. It was all about the who’s who in these places. “My math teacher seems nice. I just sat in the back all day cause it’s too weird sitting in the front. Everyone notices you and stuff.”

“Maybe that’s how to make friends.”

Dallon made a face. “No, daddy, everyone hates the kids who sit in the front.”

“I don’t get your generation. Come help me set the table.” He nodded his head toward the kitchen so Dallon got up to follow him, but barely made it to the kitchen before the front door opened and his mother called out that she was home.

“Hi, baby! How was your first day?!” She pulled him into a hug as she crossed the room. He hugged her back, looking over at his father with disdain.

“It was just peachy.” He said, but with too much sarcasm in his tone. She pulled away, exchanging looks with her husband, those worried looks, and Dallon had always been a little cynical. It had just gotten a little more concerning as he got older. Noticing their reactions, he added, “I made a friend. So it wasn’t that bad. I just miss Ryan.”

She tutted sympathetically, brushing his hair down. “Oh, honey. Of course you do. The two of you have never been apart.” He pouted, praying she’d get it, let him go to Ryan’s school, let him be a normal person. He didn’t want to go to a Christian academy. He wanted to go to a regular middle school. “Why don’t you go call him? I’ll come get you when dinner is ready.”

“Okay.” He huffed, and without a complaint he went to his room to change and call Ryan. It had only been a day and he missed him. He didn’t know how he was gonna do this for three years.

He found Ryan’s number in his phone and pressed on it as he pulled on pajama pants, leaving the inside out khakis on the floor for tomorrow. He didn’t care much about looking good when everyone hated him anyway. Wrinkled pants weren’t going to make it any worse.

“Hey.” Ryan greeted when he picked up on the first ring, seemingly waiting for his call. “How was your first day? How’s the school?”

“Terrible. I hate it, Ryan.” He fell back on his mattress, staring with depletion at the plastic glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. “I hate it. I have to wear a stupid uniform and no one likes me and it was my first day and I already wanna leave.”

“I’d like to see you in a uniform.” Ryan mused, and Dallon pouted at the ceiling. “I bet everyone will love you soon. You’re lovable.”

“I beg to differ. I’m hateable. They all looked like they wanted to smother me. Like they all formed some let’s hate the new kid club. I hate being the new kid.” He let out this noise of frustration and Ryan made a noise of acknowledgment, understanding his pain. “I made a friend, though.” He added as a second thought, because it wasn’t all bad. He liked to think that there was always a silver lining.

“You did?” Ryan asked and Dallon made a noise of affirmation, not too keen on being enthusiastic today. “You’re not leaving me, are you?”

“Of course not. I think you’d really like him. His name is Josh. He hates this place too. And he actually lives in BC. Up the parkway too, but not at my part. On Oriole.”

“He lives in the bird cluster?!” Ryan asked and Dallon giggled, nodding to himself at the inside joke. There was a cluster of streets all named after birds, they’d drive by them all the time and make fun of them, ask if the inhabitants of the houses were birds and why it wasn’t just a forest instead. “And he’s not even a bird. That’s nuts.”

“Don’t worry. You’re my best friend. You will be forever.” He told him, because he just felt like he needed to say it.

“Duh.” Ryan agreed, and Dallon smiled, because he was just across town but he missed him. He always missed him when he wasn’t with him. It was just this funny way they worked. Ryan seemed to read his mind, because he added, “I miss seeing you at school. It’s only been one day but at lunch I had to sit with this guy from English I barely know cause you’re not here and I miss you.”

“You’ll see me every weekend. I pinky promise. I won’t join any clubs so I’ll have enough time for you.” Dallon promised, and he could feel Ryan smile, like intuition. Ryan always smiled when he said stuff like that. “And by the way, he says his neighbor is a parrot.”

“Holy shit.” Ryan laughed, and Dallon stared up at the stars on his ceiling, wishing that he could just find balance. “Okay. Why don’t I meet him, then? We can get lunch after school one day. You can tell me about church school and I’ll tell you about the weirdos I have to sit with at lunch without you.”

“Dinner!” His mother called from down the hall, and Dallon rolled over onto his stomach.

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll ask him if he wants to. I gotta go have dinner but I’ll text you tonight.”

“Okay. Bye, Dal.”

“Bye.” Dallon hung up and left his phone on his bed as he went to join his family, resentfully so. He wanted to crawl into bed and hide under the covers and never come out.

His stomach growled, and he decided that that probably wasn’t a good idea.

“How’s Ryan?” His mother asked conversationally as he slid into his seat at the table, reaching for his fork. He knew she had good intentions. She always did. He just didn’t see why she had to force them on him.

“Lonely.” He pouted like a child. “He misses me. I miss him. I wanna go to school in BC.”

She sighed as she set the napkins out on the table, moving so her husband could sit beside her. “Dals, we talked about this.” She said, but they really didn’t. She never let him talk about it. She talked about it and he had to sit back and listen.

“I just don’t see why it can’t be my decision! I’m not a kid anymore. I can choose my own school!”

“Dallon. This will be good for you. C’mon. I tried something new with the potatoes. I think you’ll like them.” She changed the subject, but he wasn’t shocked. She always thought she knew what was best for him. He just wanted to be able to make his own decisions.

He slid into the seat across from his parents begrudgingly, glaring at his plate. He wasn’t a stupid kid.

* * *

Dallon squinted out at the track and watched his friend sprint alongside their peers, racing them back to the starting line. He didn’t get track. He didn’t get sports in general. Why would someone want to voluntarily sweat? It just seemed like a lot of torture to him. The coach blew his whistle and Josh bent over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

Dal: we’re gonna leave in a sec I’ll let you know when I’m a few minutes away

Ryan: okay!

Dallon locked his phone and pocketed it when Josh approached him on the bleachers, pushing a hand through sweaty hair and reaching out to grab his duffel bag. “That looks like hell.” Dallon lamented, exhausted just watching him run.

“Nah. It’s nice. It’s refreshing. It helps me get out all my pent-up frustration. On the track, I’m not thinking about it.”

Dallon half laughed, pushing himself up to stand. “What frustration do you have?”

“I go to Jesus school, Dallon.” Josh retorted, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “What frustration don’t I have?”

“Good point.” He slung his bag over his shoulder. “Hey, so Ryan’s gonna meet us downtown. My dad is here to pick us up. He’s in the parking lot. I’m so excited.” He rambled as Josh followed him to the parking lot, wiping his forehead with his towel. “You’re gonna love Ryan. He’s the best. We’ve been friends since we were babies.”

“Well, good. I could use a friend.” Josh figured, smiling over his shoulder at him as they headed to the parking lot.

Ryan was already at a table when Dallon and Josh pushed through the door of the diner, looking around for a second before Dallon saw him. Ryan seemed to notice him at the same time, and he jumped up to pull Dallon into a hug. “Hi.” He said with relief, like he had been holding his breath.

“Hi. I missed you.” Dallon squeezed him hard and Ryan squeezed back with one arm, the other wrapped in a cast. “How’s your arm? Does it hurt?”

“S’okay. Doctor says it’s healing.” Ryan pulled away and turned to smile politely at Josh. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Josh greeted, both a bit awkward meeting for the first time, unaware of the impact the three would have on each other. Dallon gestured to a table so they all sat, smiling sheepishly at the prospect of such a formal meeting. “What happened?” He pointed to Ryan’s cast, where Dallon had drawn all over it so no one else could sign it.

“Oh, uh.” Ryan looked awkwardly over at Dallon. “It’s nothing.” He brushed it off, and Josh was smart enough to know to let it go. That was how Ryan knew he liked him. “Dal, can you get me a menu?” He asked to change the subject, and Dallon did, kicking at his foot under the table. He missed him at school. Things weren’t the same without him. But he was thankful for the time he did have with him. He looked up at him suddenly and caught Ryan smiling at him, but it didn’t waver as Dallon smiled back. I love you, best friend, he wanted to say, but decided that it was better without words.

* * *

“So... I was talking to my guidance counselor today.” Dallon said quietly one evening as he set the bowl of roasted potatoes on the table, watching his mom gather their forks.

“Oh, yeah? What’d she say?” She asked casually, but failed to hide the suspicion in her tone. Dallon showing interest in school always made her happy.

“She thinks that a good way for me to integrate with my classmates is to sign up for the school play. You know, they’re doing Romeo and Juliet, and I’ve already read the book for class, and I think maybe I wanna do it.”

“You sound like you’re trying to convince me, Dals.” She laughed, dropping the silverware on the table and going to envelop him in a hug, as she always did when she was happy with him. “I think that would be great for you. You know, your father was in a few school plays.”

“Correction: I was the lead in a few plays.” His dad interrupted as he entered the kitchen, going to squeeze his son’s shoulder. “Why are we talking about my five seconds of fame? Or should I say five years. You know, three of which I was the lead.”

“Okay, daddy, I get it, you did theater.” He rolled his eyes.

“Dallon wants to join the school play.” His mother explained proudly, her eyes shining in the way that they did sometimes when Dallon made her happy. He was her miracle baby. That meant something. He had to please her. “He’s got entertainment in his genes. And it’ll give him a good chance to make friends.”

Dallon forced a smile and didn’t say that the reason he wanted to do this was to find his place, as everyone else already had. He barely had any friends and everybody thought he was a freak. If they were all going to stare at him, he at least wanted to do something memorable while he was there.

“I think that’s a great idea.” His father offered, and despite the reluctance Dallon was already feeling, knowing that it wasn’t a good idea, it wasn’t him, he made his decision when he saw the pride in their eyes.

He wanted to make them proud. It was the catalyst of every decision he made.

“I’ll tell her I wanna sign up tomorrow.” He decided, and felt more at ease when they smiled back at him.

* * *

Dallon tugged at the sleeve of his costume and made a face at himself in the mirror. He looked stupid dressed like this. He didn’t know why he thought this was a good idea.

Dress rehearsal was stressful. Having to read off book and act as if he were in front of an audience. It was almost as terrifying as having to perform in front of an actual audience. He knew all his lines, though, practiced every day and made his parents help him, making Josh read lines with him during lunch. He wasn’t sure why he cared so much about a stupid school play. He just did.

Ryan called during the last dress rehearsal before the real thing. Dallon had been trying to make himself look less of an idiot when the name flashed on the screen of his old phone and initially he smiled, going to answer it immediately. He needed his good luck charm.

“Hey.” He greeted, trying to hide the anxiety in his tone. Opening day was tomorrow. The one everyone was going to watch and record and talk about.

“Dallon. I’m so sorry.” He apologized quickly, and Dallon sat up straight. “My dad won’t let me come see your play.”

Dallon looked down at his lap and wondered why he felt such loss deep down in his chest. He could hear the tears in his throat. “Don’t worry about it.” He assured him anyway. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just a stupid school play, Ryan, it’s okay.”

“No it’s not, Dallon! I wanna be there for you. You’re always there for me.” He cried, and Dallon turned to look at his own frown in the mirror, inexplicably upset that he wasn’t going to be there. He wanted to see him in the crowd.

“It’s alright. I’ll perform it for you after. We’ll have our own show.”

Ryan laughed through tears and Dallon smiled sadly to himself. “Pinky swear your mom will record the whole thing for me.”

“I’ll go tell her right now.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.” He apologized quickly but Dallon promised it wasn’t a big deal. It was just a play. A stupid school play that Dallon couldn’t even really say why he was doing. “I love you, Dal.” He added after a minute, and Dallon’s throat felt tight.

“I love you too. It’s okay.” He assured him again, but he couldn’t explain the feeling of disappointment. “I’ll call you later. I gotta go rehearse.”

“Sure. Bye.” Ryan sounded upset when he hung up and Dallon was too. He wanted him there. Ryan was his best friend. He wanted to show him that he was doing okay at the new school.

“Dallon!” His theater teacher and director called, and he got up to join his peers on stage, pushing his disappointment aside.

* * *

It was funny, having people cheer for him for once. He took his bow like he’d practiced, smiling with relief because he didn’t mess up once, and he could see his parents in the crowd, smiling with pride, they never imagined their son on a stage. He knew he would never do it again, his anxiety had never been so bad, but there was a first for everything.

People chattered aimlessly after the lights went on and Dallon talked to his peers after the show, still on the stage where everyone could see them. He felt like he was on a pedestal. Like he meant something.

“Dallon.” A voice said suddenly from the bottom of the stairs, and Dallon looked down to see Ryan standing there with a bouquet of flowers. He gasped and darted down the stairs, opening his arms and pulling him into a hug when Ryan laughed. “Hi, Romeo.”

“Did you sneak out just to see my stupid play?” He asked quietly and Ryan nodded, squeezing him tighter when Dallon went to pull away.

“Of course I snuck out to see your stupid play.” He said like it were the most obvious thing in the world and Dallon found himself smiling against his shoulder, realizing just how important this was to him.

“You’re gonna be in so much trouble.”

“It’s worth it.” He said right away, didn’t have to think about it, though he knew the consequences. He always did. He pulled away to hand Dallon the messy bouquet, though, deciding that he wouldn’t think about it. “I, uh. I didn’t have time or money to go buy flowers so I stole these from my neighbor’s garden. I doubt she’ll notice. You’re not a bad actor.”

“Oh, I could be better.” He laughed awkwardly, unable to take a compliment, but accepted the flowers gratefully and held them to his chest. “I love them. Thank you. And thank you for being here. Even if it is just a dumb school play.”

“You’d be there for me if I was in a dumb school play. It’s no problem. I just missed you.” He bumped his fist against Dallon’s upper arm, smiling warmly at him. “Your mom said I can come with you guys to dinner to celebrate. If that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, it’s okay with me. I’m gonna go change. I’ll meet you at the front.” He nodded toward the front door so Ryan went to join his parents, waiting for him patiently. He disappeared backstage to change out of his costume and back into his clothes, where he would go from someone well known to someone invisible again.

He was fine with that. He knew now that having a lot of friends didn’t matter; having one perfect one was enough.

Middle school. It was the worst time of everybody’s lives, so all the tales told, but as his mother turned up the heat and his father turned up the radio, he looked to the other side of the backseat to see his best friend smiling, and he realized just then how lucky he really was.

* * *

Dallon was fourteen and he was terrified.

It was like... it wasn’t a surprise, but it wasn’t not a surprise. It wasn’t like everybody woke up one morning thinking oh, I like guys! It was much more complicated than that. Took much more time to figure out.

He just hadn’t realized that this was going to be that time.

He stood against the wall in the hallway, listening to the sound of his father’s shoes on the hardwood floors as came home late from work. His wife greeted him and they exchanged causeries about their day as their son hid, not exactly praying this away but praying it wouldn’t change everything. He always failed to predict things right, and he was hoping that that withheld. He wanted to be wrong about this.

He rehearsed it in the bathroom mirror at midnight for weeks. He needed to say it. He felt like he was going to explode.

He stepped into the room before he could convince himself not to. “Can I tell you guys something?” He asked, getting their attention. He didn’t want to back out of it again. They both nodded, exchanging skeptical looks.

It smelled good. His mother was making dinner. That was the part he remembered most. Because it was something sweet smelling, something he loved, and as he stood there in front of them he wondered if everything would be okay after. If he would be able to sit with them at the table and eat dinner as if nothing changed.

It was just a few words. So why did they make him feel sick?

“I like boys.” He said blatantly, leaving behind the speech he had written and memorized for weeks. He was going to tell them that he loved them, and still believed in God, and that he hoped they would still love him too. But his hands shook now, and he tried not to look away when they watched him speechlessly. “I’m gay. And I know I’m not supposed to be but I am. I don’t want you to hate me but I’ve known for a while and I didn't wanna say anything until I was ready and now I'm ready. So.” He trailed off, setting his hands on his thighs to keep them from trembling.

His parents were quiet for a moment and Dallon forced himself not to look away. “Okay.” His mom said after a second, nodding carefully like she were trying to process what he was saying.

He wiped anxious tears away, fingers shaking. “Okay?” He asked, his pulse picking up, he didn’t know whether that was a good or bad okay, and tears spilled down his cheeks like he’d been bottling them up for weeks. He had been. He didn’t want to cry about this. “Okay meaning...?”

“We’re okay with it, Dallon.” His father supplied.

“You are?” He asked; he wasn’t expecting to hear that. He thought it was going to go a lot worse. “But I’m not— I’m not supposed to be. The church says it’s wrong. The bible says it’s wrong.”

“We're not gonna let a book tell us not to love our son, Dallon." His father laughed, opening his arms for a hug. Dallon sniffled, overwhelmed, and went to squeeze in between them on the couch. “Being gay isn't wrong. It's not a sin. You're not wrong.“

“I was so scared that you were gonna hate me.” He cried, wiping wet cheeks again.

“Dallon.” His mother sighed, brushing fingers through his hair. “We could never hate you, baby. And, well. We aren’t surprised. We kind of already knew.”

He looked between them in disbelief. “What?” He asked, voice almost breaking.

“We know. Or we assumed, anyway. You’re an artist. You wear cardigans.” She made Dallon’s father smile and Dallon laugh, holding a hand over his face. “We didn’t want to say anything unless we were sure, but we had a hunch. You made it kind of obvious. It’s okay. We could never hate you.”

“As long as you know who you are.” His father added. “As long as you’re happy.”

“I’m trying to be.” He offered; this was part of that. Trying to be happy. Trying to be honest with himself and his family so he could start living a little less censored.

“Good. I’m proud of you.” He kissed the top of his head and got up, leaving Dallon to his mother. “I’m gonna check the food. Thank you for telling us that, kid.”

“Yeah.” He returned, because he couldn’t find the words to thank him for being understanding. Not many religious parents would be. He was really lucky in that regard. His dad disappeared into the kitchen and Dallon wipes his nose with the back of his hand, realizing suddenly how silly he was being. It was nothing to cry over. He knew his parents. Knew they loved him unconditionally.

“I thought that you would... I don’t know. Be upset.” He said after a minute, turning to look at his mom. “Because we’re not really, like. Supposed to support that. That’s what everyone says.”

She tsked, rubbing his shoulder gently like he just didn’t get it. He wasn’t a parent. He guessed there was no way for him to understand. “Dallon, I don’t care what everybody says. You’re my son. God gave me a miracle. So if you’re gay, then that’s what He chose for you.”

He sniffled again, wiping his eyes to rid the leftover tears. “You never thought it was right.”

“That was before my son was gay.” She argued, and he shook with a sob as she enveloped him in a hug. He didn’t think she would accept him. He didn’t think she would love him anymore. “It’s gonna take some getting used to, Dallon, but if it’s who you are then I’m okay with it.”

“Thank you.” He cried, overwhelmed, burrowing into her shoulder. He was scared for months that this would go so differently. He’d been playing it in his head, trying not to psych himself out.

She rubbed his back, holding him like he were still a baby. To her, he was, and now he felt like one too. Brand new, in a way. Like he was seeing the world in a new light. “Have you told anyone else, babe?” She asked after a moment, squeezing his shoulder until he pulled away to shake his head. He didn’t even know where to begin. If he should come out at all, or if he could go without mentioning it. “Not even Ryan or Josh? They’re your best friends. Do you want them to know?”

“I don’t know.” He put his head in his hands, shaking his head pensively. What would they say? Josh went to a Christian academy with him. Not a lot of people there would be okay with it. “What if they hate me, mom?”

“They won’t hate you, Dals, come on.” She assured him, but she didn’t know that. He and Josh had only known each other two years and the topic had never come up. Ryan had been his best friend all his life. What if this was a deal breaker?

“It’s scary, mom. Something like this is like... life changing.”

“Maybe not.” She countered. “For you, yes, but not for them. They’re your friends. They’ll be here for you no matter what.” She pat his thigh and he stared back at her, pouting like a child. “Have some hope in them, honey. They might just surprise you.”

“Maybe.” Dallon agreed, but he couldn’t help but feel sick at the thought of it.

* * *

“I wanna go to high school in BC.” Dallon decided as he ate dinner across from his parents one night, picking at the green beans on his plate because there was no way in hell he was going to eat those. His parents stopped eating in unison, almost like they shared a brain, but Dallon didn’t get the big deal. He wasn’t going to go to a religious private school forever. He needed to get to know the real world.

“You still believe in God, right?” His mother asked, confused.

“Of course I do.” He assured her. “I just think— y’know. I just think that it’ll be better for me to go to high school with Ryan and Josh. And besides, it would be good for me to make friends with people who live here opposed to in Henderson. I mean, I can’t drive yet, so if I were to go there, when I make friends— if I do, considering I don’t really have any there already and I doubt anybody else will transfer in— they’d be too far. And private school kids are stuck up. I don’t wanna end up all stuck up like that.”

“I thought you liked LMCA.” His dad said, setting down his fork.

“I mean...” He shrugged, splitting a green bean in half with his fork for lack of better things to do. “The people there aren’t super nice to me. At least not in my classes. And I miss being in Ryan’s school. And I hate having to wear a uniform and it’s so... straight. Like, I’m not saying I’m gonna go around and date a bunch of guys but I’d like to— I don’t know. I’d like to meet people who aren’t strictly Christian while I’m a teenager who should be doing teenage things.”

“Okay. I see where you’re coming from.” His mom nodded, and he appreciated that he had a say in it. “We’ll talk about it, Dals.”

“Thanks.” He nodded back respectfully, reaching out for his soda.

“And you’re not dating until you’re thirty.” She added as a second thought, and he looked up at her doubtfully as his father rolled his eyes.

“There’s always those Christian singles sites.” His father suggested.

“We’re not even Christian, daddy.” Dallon argued, knew he was joking but God forbid he had to resort to that. “Don’t worry. Maybe I’ll meet a nice Mormon boy. They can’t be that hard to find.”

“You’d be surprised.” His mom said and her husband elbowed her, Dallon never really understood their humor, but he rolled his eyes as he poked at his food. “You don’t have to date a religious person, Dallon, you know. You can date whoever you want. We’re fine with it.”

“I know.” He said, and it got annoying after a while, the affirmations, her promising that she was okay with it and then trying too hard to learn everything there was to know. He had to appreciate that she was trying to educate herself, but she was ending up knowing more than he did. At one point or another he had started to get confused when she asked things he didn’t know himself. Batting his eyelashes playfully, he added, “I mean, if I bring home a boy who worships Satan then I’ll make sure I’ll take him to meet you first, just in case.”

“As long as he leaves his sacrificial virgin blood at home.” His father added, and Dallon rolled his eyes but smiled because in the end, they were still supportive. That was more than he could ask for from anybody. That was more than a lot of people could say.

“So that’s a yes, then? To BC?” He asked hopefully, riding his luck.

“That’s a maybe, Dals.” His mother pointed out, and he supposed he couldn’t trick her so easily. “Now eat your dinner or it’s going to be a no. I worked hard on this.”

“Yes, mother.” He obeyed, and his father hid a smile because they always got each other. It was just a thing. She tsked, but she never minded Dallon’s insistence. Perseverance was a good quality. It would help him go after what he wanted. That could work in his favor, in the long run. “But think about it.”

“Dallon.” She swatted at him with her napkin and he laughed, putting his hands up to dodge it. He knew he’d get his way. That was the best part. He smiled up at them, a grateful smile, because he didn’t know how to thank them. Even after everything, he never had.

* * *

Dallon did this thing sometimes where he panicked for no real reason: things just tended to sneak up on him and scare him and make him overthink. He did it a lot before he had come out, most of it being a fear of rejection or getting hurt. But now it was a more subtle panic. One that only happened once in a while, but made his head ache because he didn’t know what to do with his thoughts.

He had come out a few weeks ago and since then, he was letting himself see a future with a boy. He had always been too scared to picture it, thinking that if he shut it out then he would never have to come to terms with it. But seeing a future with a boy wasn’t all just silly daydreams of domesticity. It was the rest of it, too. The milestones. The things he didn’t know quite how to do.

He made a face as he typed the words into his search bar, wondering briefly if he should find a way to make it private. He wasn’t very tech savvy, though. He figured he could just clear his browser after.

He knew this was what kids his age did. Every boy watched porn. It was just how it was. And now that he had come to terms with who he was, it felt like an obligation. If he got a boyfriend then he needed to know what to do. He didn’t know how any of this worked. He didn’t know who to ask. The internet seemed like a good choice.

He clicked on the first video that came up, gnawing at his bottom lip as it loaded. The audio blasted at first and his eyes went wide as he turned it almost all the way down, but not completely; he still needed to know what to say.

He didn’t really think about this stuff until now. He didn’t even really consider the fact that he’d want to do it, either. He just stared at the screen and watched the two probable strangers interact, their bodies bare and sweaty and perfect. He chewed on his thumbnail, holding his laptop on his knees and trying to calculate every move the actors made.

“Dallon-“

Dallon jolted and turned with wide eyes to see his father staring at him from the doorway. He was silent for a moment, but Dallon saw his eyes dart between his son and the screen of his computer before Dallon slammed it shut, mortified. He prayed he didn’t see it. Please, please-

“Is that porn?” He asked, and Dallon wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

“No...?” He lied, but made a face when his dad crossed his arms. “Okay. Yes. But I wasn’t watching it in like, a creepy way. I just... I was worried that I wouldn’t know what to do if I had a boyfriend who I wanted to have sex with.”

His father sighed, moving into the room and going to sit beside him on his bed. “Dallon. Dal, you’re fourteen. You’re not going to be having sex anytime soon. And even if you were, this isn’t how you learn. This is oversexualized and doesn’t have anything helpful. It doesn’t show anybody giving consent, or talking about it first, or discussing protection and consequences-“

“But how am I supposed to know that, daddy?” He interrupted. “They didn’t teach me sex ed at school. Cause it’s a religious school, y’know? It just made me... more curious. Not getting to ask all my questions. Not, like. Knowing who to ask.”

“You can ask me, if you want. I can try to answer to the best of my ability, at least.” He nudged his knee, trying to smile despite his son’s humiliation. “Go ahead. I’ll try to help.”

“I don’t know.” Dallon squirmed uncomfortably. “The internet doesn’t tell me anything helpful. I mean, I tried looking stuff up but I can’t find anything. I just wanna know why I’m the way that I am. Like. Being gay. Is it... like, genetic? Cause I don’t know why I am.”

“No. No, buddy, it’s not.” He put a hand reassuringly on his shoulder. “It’s just... who you are. No one knows why it happens. But it’s not unnatural. It’s not a bad thing. It’s just a little different than what people think is the norm.”

“So why isn’t this the norm?”

“Um, I don’t know, Dal. It’s just not the way people grew up. It takes some time to adjust. Just like you need to adjust to it too. It’s not just new for you and us. The whole world is pretty new to this.”

“I just wish I knew what to do and how to do it.” He looked away in thought, briefly wondered how dorky it would be of him to look up a tutorial.

“So you’re concerned you won’t know what to do?” He asked calmly, and Dallon stalled for a moment before he nodded. He felt pathetic. “Well, kid. I’m gonna let you in on a little secret: no one knows, at first. They all just kind of gradually figure it all out.”

Dallon wasn’t sure if that was supposed to make him feel better or not. He didn’t want to be lost and confused. He was smart. He wanted to know this stuff right away. He didn’t want to have to learn.

“Am I gross for looking at stuff like this?” He asked suddenly, pouting a bit like he were expecting a yes.

“No, Dal, you’re not gross. It’s completely normal. This is a time in your life where you’re curious, and have a lot of feelings about this kind of thing. I’m not going to judge you for seeking information or even just wanting to see it. Don’t feel ashamed or embarrassed.” He squeezed his shoulder and Dallon didn’t look back at him, but he smiled gently at the reaffirmation. “I wanna let you be a teenage. So let me know if you have any questions, but just remember what I said. None of this is realistic, but I’m not going to tell you not to watch it.”

He began to get up and Dallon only nodded, laying a hand over his laptop like he needed to hold it shut so it wouldn’t open up itself. He was still curious. He wasn’t going to lie and say he wasn’t. He was just going to be more careful.

“Just...” He started only when he was in the doorway, and Dallon looked up at him. “When you do have sex, Dallon, please-“

“I’ll be safe. I know.” He smiled at him, reaching back out to open his laptop. “Thanks, daddy.”

“Sure, kid.” He smiled back, the smile Dallon had gotten from him, and he felt better. Not like he knew everything, because he didn’t, and he wouldn’t, but like he knew more. That had to count for something.

He pulled his laptop open again, this time turning the screen away from the door.

* * *

He hated everybody.

This school was hell. It was ironic, considering it was Jesus school. But it was terrible, the people there were terrible, and he liked Josh but everyone else made him want to disappear. He stormed into the apartment, angrily throwing down his bag as he pushed the door open.

“I hate school. I hate everything. I can’t wait to leave.” He announced as he slammed the front door shut behind him, and his father looked up at him with concern.

“Hello to you too.” He closed his book, sitting up straight on the couch. “What’s up with the door slamming, Dal?”

“I hate my school and everyone in it.” He said vaguely, plopping down on the couch because he knew going to his room and slamming that door too just wouldn’t feel liberating.

“Elaborate.” He requested.

“People say mean things to me cause I’m Mormon, daddy.” Dallon admitted with a sigh, leaning back against the couch and turning to watch the way his dad’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. He didn’t really want to tell him, knew he’d probably blame himself, but once he said them, the words forced themselves out. “Cause, like. I go to a Christian school but I’m not actually Christian. People think Mormons are the weird religion. I mean, they’re not wrong, right? We are weird.”

“That doesn’t mean people can bully you for it.” His father got up to wrap an arm around him and Dallon leaned into his side. “This isn’t making you question your faith, is it?”

“No, not really, but I don’t know. I feel weird. Like maybe I’m not as dedicated as I thought.” He turned to look at him, almost guilty. “I don’t think I wanna go on my mission. I know I should, and I wanna be dedicated, but it doesn’t sound like something I think I can do.”

“That’s okay, Dallon. Hey.” He pulled him into a hug when he saw the tears well up in his eyes. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I want you home too. You don’t have to go on your mission to be devoted.”

“That’s not what the church says.”

“If God doesn’t hate you for being gay, God isn’t gonna hate you for not preaching to a bunch of strangers, Dal, okay?” He pulled away and pinched his chin. “I love you no matter what. And your mother will love you no matter what. And God loves all His children. Even if they don’t dedicate their entire lives to Him.”

“Okay.” He sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, and suddenly he felt stupid for crying about it. It was just that all his life, he followed his parent’s beliefs. Now he was growing up and he didn’t know when to branch out and find his own.

“It’s gonna be okay.” He promised, and the thing about Dallon’s father was that he always knew just what to say. Dallon hoped he had inherited that and could pass it on one day. “No matter what, Dallon. You’re my son and I love you. Okay?”

“Okay.” He repeated, nodding, wiping his cheeks with his fists. He was fourteen. He was confused, and sad, and didn’t know what he was going to do. But his dad was right. Things were going to be okay. He wanted desperately to believe it.

* * *

It was stupid. He was walking down the hall and he got a voicemail from his grandma, just saying to call him back to tell her about his week. She liked to do that once in a while. But he clicked on an old voicemail his father had left him instead. He hadn’t meant to, but he avoided his voicemails like the plague because he didn’t want to see them.

Hey, kid. I know you’re at school right now but sometimes I just have to tell you I love you. I’m proud of you. We got your report card in the mail today and I have no idea how you got so smart. I’m bringing you out to dinner to celebrate.

His throat closed up and he stared at his sneakers as he headed down the hall to math, the bell almost about to ring. He wanted to stop but he couldn’t. He wanted to delete them and move on but he was starting to feel like he couldn’t remember his voice and he felt sick at the thought of it.

Dallon. You won’t believe it. We won the lottery! Just kidding. Sorry to get your hopes up. Your mom finally agreed to taking a vacation, though. I think that’s even better news. This summer, the three of us will go anywhere you want. I couldn’t wait to tell you. Call me when you’re done studying like the little scholar you are.

I’m in the parking lot, kid. Pick up your phone if you want rides!

Dallon! I know kids hate this, but I met a woman at work today who has a gay son. Maybe you would like to meet him? I bet you don’t want your old dad setting you up, but I see it as making up for all the girls I’ve nudged you towards.

Dallon-

Mark, stop calling him when he’s at school. He’s gonna get in trouble.

His phone is off! Besides, he likes it. Getting out of school to hear messages from me. It’s our thing.

You two are so weird.

His hands shook and he closed out quickly, tearing his earbuds out so fast it burned. He shouldn’t have listened. He knew he shouldn’t have. It was too soon. He felt like he was going to puke.

He guessed it didn’t hit him until now. That he’d never hear his voice again. He held his phone to his chest, and hot tears rolled down his cheeks.

He didn’t wipe them away. He didn’t want to. He didn’t know if he could, either.

* * *

The sun beat down on him hard and he squinted through it, staring at the track in front of him. He never liked sports. Never liked physical activity. But he had spent a lot of days here, after he’d made friends with a boy who loved track. And his father would pick them up from the track practice, drive them back to Boulder City where they and Ryan would get milkshakes and talk about their weeks.

Josh said that running was cathartic. Dallon was looking for anything.

He lined up the toe of his converse sneaker with the white painted line on the track. He didn’t have running shoes, he never bothered running. It just felt like he was running from his problems. He did enough of that already.

Dear future self, or to whom it may concern.

He counted down in his head.

My name is Dallon. If you’re reading this, then you probably know that by now.

Five.

I was hoping that by this time I would be a prodigy and would have my art up in galleries or museums across the world. I guess it’s not too late. Artists only matter when they’re dead.

Four.

Anyways, my name is Dallon. And I’m really, really sad. I don’t know how it got to be that way or why, but I don’t think I’m the same. I don’t think I ever will be.

Three.

I want to feel better. I don’t know how to do that. I feel like it’s so much easier if I give up.

Two.

I’m not good with words, so we’ll call this a first draft. But if you’re reading this, then chances are I never got around to writing a second. And if you aren't, then this is a letter to me. Dear future self: I hope you’re doing okay.

One.

He took off running, with less poise and skill than he’d seen in this track before. He didn’t have a destination. Not really. He just needed to run.

Sorry.

The sun was blinding, and he ran as fast as he could, as if something behind him was chasing him. Himself, maybe. His own realizations.

So by the time you read this, I’ll probably be gone. It’s okay. It’s for the best.

His legs ached and he felt like he was going to puke. His skin burned under the sun and sweat was in his eye and he ran, praying he would leave this feeling behind. He didn’t want it anymore. He didn’t need it.

Sincerely, Dallon.

His lungs burned and he collapsed on the ground, rolling over onto his back and staring up at the clouds with a squint.

The sun peaked through, highlighting them in a golden glow, and he wondered if there was a God up there.

He let his eyes fall shut, because he really didn’t think so.


	66. Chapter 65: Where the Lightning Strikes

“What did you mean when you said not to get attached?”

Mason looked up from his laptop to see Brendon standing defiantly in his doorway that evening, glaring down at him as if their roles were reversed and he were the older one with more power. “What?” His brother asked, dumbfounded.

“When you said the other day that I shouldn’t get attached to Dallon. What did you mean? Because I keep thinking about it and it isn’t fair.” He said it with conviction, meaning it to sound harsh. He deserved to snap. Brendon was going crazy thinking about how everybody else felt like they had room to judge.

“Oh.” He squirmed uncomfortably, like maybe Brendon had caught him in a tough position. Then again, he had. “I didn’t really mean anything by it, Brendon. I just said don’t get attached. Being with people who are really sick is hard. It’s not easy to think you can save them.”

“I don’t think I can save him. I know I can’t, actually. But he’s my boyfriend and I love him and I’m going to support him through him everything. Even though he’s sick. Because he’s getting better. I know he is.” He caught the look of surprise on his brother’s face, but he didn’t stop. He was upset. He deserved to be. “It’s not fair that everyone tells me how to feel. It’s not fair that I’m expected to keep my distance so that I don’t get hurt. I’ve been hurt. He helped me. So don’t tell me not to get attached when I’m fully capable of handling myself.”

Mason seemed affronted. “Okay, Bren, I’m sorry. I won’t say anything again.” He promised, putting his hands up in surrender.

“Good.” He turned to head down the hall and then down the stairs, still furious even after getting everything out of his system. He had to work, his shift was soon, but he had so much pent up anger that he needed to get out. He’d been bottling that up for so long.

He meant what he said. Dallon was taking steps toward remedying himself and in the process, remedying them too. Brendon was going to stand by him through that.

The door to the diner pushed open suddenly about an hour into his shift. He was busy, actually bringing orders to tables today and refilling soda as fast as he could. Sometimes they had little spurts of being busier than usual; today was one of those days.

“Hey.” A familiar voice greeted, and Brendon’s head snapped up to look at him in the doorway. Blue eyes smiled at him and Brendon circled the counter, leaving the empty tray behind as he pulled him into a hug.

“Hey. You’re home.” Brendon whispered into the crook of his neck, overwhelmed at the sight of him.

“Yeah, I am.” Dallon pulled away, a hand on the side of Brendon’s neck. “So, I know you’re working until later, but I have something to give you.”

“For me?” Brendon asked, confused: he wasn’t the one just getting home after a week away. He wasn’t the one making strides. Brendon should have been celebrating him.

“It’s not, like. A gift or anything weird. It’s just— I wrote you a list of apologies. It’s this thing my inpatient therapist helped me with. I’m asking for forgiveness.” He handed him a piece of notebook paper, wrinkled from the transportation of his back pocket but so obviously Dallon that the words on the page felt like him.

Big brown eyes flickered to aquamarine ones, shining like new, and he took the paper gently in his hands like it were a precious treasure. And it was, in a way. It was more than an apology. It was an I’m going to make things better.

Brendon began to unfold the paper but Dallon reached out to stop him. “Don’t—“ He started, and Brendon looked up to catch a look of hesitance already on his face. “Don’t read it now, please. It’s kinda...”

“Awkward. I get it.” He folded it up again and slipped it into his apron for later, fingers itching at the prospect. “Hey, thank you for doing that. I’m glad you’re, y’know. Taking steps.”

“Hey, I wanna get better. Being better to you too is a part of that.” He bumped his sneaker against Brendon’s, making him smile for real. He was back. Not just physically, but mentally too. The old Dallon that he knew, the one that knew how to smile. Brendon loved so much that he did. “I’m gonna let you get back to work, but would you mind if I stayed over tonight? I feel like I haven’t seen you.”

“I’d love that.” Brendon agreed; it was an understatement. He didn’t realize how much he missed him until he couldn't sleep at night. “I’m really glad you’re home, Dal. And I’m really glad you feel better.” He added after a moment as Dallon headed toward the door, leaving Brendon feeling like a different person. One with more hope.

Dallon turned to smile at him from the doorway, like he had been doing from the first day. Dallon. He had never seemed so familiar. “Me too, Urie.” He spoke with confidence, the same confidence he had lost before, and Brendon found it in him to smile.

For the first time in a long time, he felt like things were actually going to be okay.

* * *

Rain pounded against the windows and Brendon sat on the windowsill, looking out at the street below and waiting. It was late, but Dallon had said that he had a few things to do first.

Reparations. Brendon figured it took some time.

The doorbell rang and he got up, tightening his hoodie around him as he went to buzz him in. He liked that he knew Dallon’s footsteps so well by now that he could tell by the creak of the stairs where he was. It was almost like they were getting to know each other inside and out. Brendon wasn’t as scared of that prospect as he had been once upon a time.

“Hey. It’s crazy out there.” Dallon laughed as he peeled off his jacket, hanging it up like he knew how to by now and never missing a beat as they hugged. Brendon loved him. He couldn’t believe he ever questioned that.

He laid in bed that night and stared at the ceiling and tried to think of how to thank Dallon for everything, though nothing felt like enough. He never had been good with putting his feelings into words. But after months of feeling helpless and used, he was finally seeing some semblance of light. And maybe it was from the sun, using the moon’s light, but not tonight. Tonight the sky was black, rain was pouring down, and Brendon felt like he could finally breathe.

The sound of raindrops pattering against the windowpane called to him until he found himself needing to answer. He tugged the covers off and crawled out of bed, drawn toward the rhythm of the rain, and cast a glance toward Dallon just in case. He was still fast asleep under his share of the comforter though at the feeling of the body beside him disappearing, he let out a noise of distress and tugged the blanket up to keep him warm. But Brendon would be back: he would never leave him. Not again.

He slipped out of his half open door silently and made his way down to the dark downstairs, where the only light was coming from the occasional strikes of lightning outside. He knew the way to the door with or without light. Moving as if he didn’t exist he found his sneakers and jacket, but knew he was going to feel the rain on his skin. That was the point. He didn’t bother searching in the dark for an umbrella, and made his way downstairs.

Brendon stepped off of the stairs and folded his arms over his chest as the cold air greeted him like an old friend. The world was asleep but he wasn’t.

A year ago he had sat in the back of astronomy class, a class he took because of childlike fascination and passion he couldn’t find in anything anymore. And he read an essay called The Placebo Effect by Dallon James Weekes, a boy he was just starting to fall in love with.

And that essay was nothing like the one he read criminally. It wasn’t about damaging but about remedying. And Brendon felt a connection to it before any of this, but now he understood it in a way he hadn’t before. Standing in the pouring rain feeling free of restraint. No pressure to pretend he was okay, no fake smiles, just him and the sky and the rain. The world in its most natural state. Finally, he was clean.

It felt like when you looked out at the storm and the rain fell like a sheet, and there was so much rain that you couldn’t tell it was raining. That was how it looked. Like a forcefield around his world.

There was something about the way the street looked during a storm, the lightning strikes in the distance and the clap of thunder, the glow of the streetlights off the wet pavement. The fresh smell of the rain. Brendon inhaled steadily as the sound of the door met his ears, but he didn’t turn. Just smiled to himself and listened to the quiet footsteps, feeling at peace for the first time in a while.

“You’ve got an affinity for storms, huh?” Dallon’s voice came to him as if in a dream, shadowed by the sound of the rain. And Brendon was too tired to look at him, wonder if he was imagining him there, but then again he knew.

He shifted his weight and averted his gaze toward the sky, not surprised because he always seemed to find him. “I’ll say.”

Dallon half smiled when Brendon turned to look at him, holding an umbrella he’d stolen from the Uries, the hood of his sweatshirt up, tufts of bedhead poking out. Looking like he needed another month of sleep with those bags under his eyes and just a slightly worried look, because Dallon was his own perfect storm. Brendon had learned that in the past few months. “The bed is cold without you. What are you doing out here?”

“Y’know. Just appreciating the world in its most natural state.” He nodded his head toward the sky with a smile and Dallon smiled back, but he looked pensive. Then again he always did. Brendon turned back toward the street and looked up as a strike of lightning shot across the sky, and for a moment everything seemed to be on fire. “Ms. Kenny told me that she thinks I should learn to adapt to the world. And I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. This place is my home. Every crack in the pavement and every faulty power line and everybody that hates me like I do. I have to appreciate it all while I’m here. So now I’m taking a little bit of time to appreciate it.”

A strike of lightning was an electric discharge between the atmosphere and an earth-bound object. And if that object happened to be a person, then a jolt of electricity would shoot through their body and cause permanent damage. Sometimes fatal. So in the grand scheme of things, compared to what could happen, Brendon didn’t have it so bad. At least he could be thankful that he hadn’t been struck by lightning. He turned to look at Dallon once more, and then again, maybe he had been.

In Freud’s book of dreams, if one stood where the lightning strikes in a dream, it represented new love and passion. This preceded what Brendon had already known: falling in love was a strike of lightning in itself. And maybe they had their moments but after all, it was Dallon. Being struck by lightning had oftentimes been compared to falling in love; he’d fallen in love a million times over, so whatever else the world gave him, he could take it.

He wanted to fall in love with the world the way he had fallen in love with Dallon.

“Good idea,” Dallon adulated quietly as he followed Brendon’s gaze, blue eyes focused on the rolling clouds above. The moon was hiding somewhere, but tonight it deserved a break. It had been shining too bright. “I’m glad you told her. And your parents.”

“I am too.” His eyes shifted from the sky to the house across the street, where the rain pounded against the windows and front steps. Everyone had lives behind their doors, and Brendon was coming to realize that he had to start living his own. “And I’m glad you fought for me. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that.” He turned to look at him, caught his gaze and held it. “But I needed you to fight for me. I needed to hear that you really, really wanted me.”

As if he didn’t need it anymore Dallon let the umbrella drop to his side. Rain greeted him fiercely and his eyes captivated Brendon’s, crystal blue when the lightning hit, and the sound of thunder rang in his ears but he stared back at him. “Of course I fought for you.” Dallon said quietly in disbelief, reaching out to take his hand. “You have no idea how vital you are for me.”

And Brendon let out a quiet breath as he could see it leave his lips, fixating on his wet skin and the way the raindrops slid down his cheeks. Not tears this time, just rain. Refreshing. Just like he’d thought when he stepped out into it. But this time was different. This time, he wasn’t cutting ties. This time he was double knotting them. But with that feeling of freedom. No restraint. With Dallon there never could be.

Dallon stood there in front of him, close enough to touch. He prayed Dallon couldn’t tell what he was thinking because for the first time he felt unpredictable. He just wanted to prove that he was still his. Wanted to ask him to dance right there in the middle of the rain, kiss him on the sidewalk, hold him tight and never let him go. Because just two weeks ago Brendon tried to ruin the only real thing he’d ever known, and two weeks wasn’t long enough. Centuries weren’t long enough either.

In a whisper, Brendon apologized, “I’m sorry.”

Dallon’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, reaching up to wipe raindrops off his forehead with his sleeve. “For what?”

“For everything. Being exhausting and hard on you and difficult to deal with. I need to apologize for real because these past six months have proved to me how you feel about me. I never knew the gravity of this until then. You’re patient with me. Not many people would be. I need to thank you for that. I really needed you this year and you’ve been here for me even when I made it impossible. You’ve kept me safe and... I don’t always like to be here, but you make it easier. Life.”

“I wish you knew that you had the same impact on me,” Dallon said quietly.

Brendon didn’t know what else to say so he didn’t say a word. He just stepped closer to him, every time he touched him he wanted to be closer, and kissed his lips in a timid greeting. Like a first hello, but it was so much more than that. Everything was amplified with him. And Brendon felt it in his toes and electricity in his lips when he pulled away, eyelashes fluttering with raindrops on them. Dallon touched his cheek, thought for a second that they were tears, but Brendon smiled and Dallon had never known how not to smile when Brendon Urie smiled that damn smile at him.

The lightning struck just then, and it always seemed to when they touched.

Dallon laughed and Brendon did too, as they pulled apart quickly. “We should get out of the storm.” Dallon suggested, soaked to the bone, and Brendon looped his fingers around his wrist, going to dig his key out of the pocket of his pajama pants.

“I think we have towels in the supply closet, c’mon.” He guided him toward the diner, letting Dallon in first and shaking himself off before he followed. Dallon sat down in a booth and Brendon went to find the towels in the back, searching only for a second before he found them folded on the shelf. He’d wash them tomorrow; his father wouldn’t mind.

Dallon smiled gratefully up at him when Brendon emerged from the closet, forgetting to turn the lights on though it was nicer at night, anyway. Softer somehow. “Thanks.” He said, and his voice came out almost in a whisper.

“Sorry I got you all wet.” Brendon apologized sheepishly, handing Dallon a towel and then wrapping himself in one.

“Nah, I could have stayed in bed.” Dallon waved it off, draping the towel over his shoulders like a child wearing a cape. “I’m worried you’re going to get pneumonia with all the rain you’ve been in lately.”

“Don’t worry. This will be my last storm for a while.” He guaranteed, and Dallon’s eyes met his with something of hope as he added thoughtfully, “I’m gonna make hot cocoa.”

“Okay.” Dallon watched him slip behind the counter, turning on the machine and going to get two mugs under the counter, not missing a beat because it was what he did. In the booth he’d claimed Dallon’s shoulders shook, he had just gotten over the flu, he didn’t need a cold too. Brendon felt guilty for being at fault. The diner was warm, though, it always seemed to be at night, where he could seek refuge to ride out the storm. He liked to do that sometimes, especially when the storm was up in his own room.

Steam from the warm drinks rose and Dallon’s eyes didn’t part from Brendon as he carried them to the table, setting one in front of Dallon and the other on his own side. A thank you died in Dallon’s throat and he smiled that smile that wasn’t a smile, never saying what was on his mind. Raindrops still slid from his hair down his face and Brendon grabbed the edge of his towel, going to wipe the wetness from Dallon’s cheeks gently. Gentle hands cleaned him and he only stared, this adoration in his eyes that always made things feel right.

Brendon dropped the towel and brushed soft skin with his fingertips, and Dallon said nothing, didn’t know what to say, just prayed he knew.

Brendon did.

“What are you thinking?” He asked anyway, taking the seat across from him and holding his mug close to warm freezing extremities. Dallon accepted his own, cupping it and inhaling the steam, bending down but not moving the mug to take a sip from the scolding hot drink.

He sat up once more, reaching up half-heartedly to adjust his towel. “I’ve been— I’ve been thinking about something I said to you once. Do you remember when I asked you what you expected out of this relationship?”

Brendon nodded solemnly. He remembered. He remembered everything Dallon had ever said to him. “Yeah. I said I expected a fairytale.”

“Right. And I’ve been thinking about that. And you told me that you were scared because you didn’t plan this. Because you need things to be planned. And I know you were talking about what happened but I was thinking about— about how much things have changed in these past few months. And I was thinking about the conversation we had last week, about how what happened put us back together.”

“Yeah,” Brendon said slowly, not seeing exactly where he was going with it except Dallon always seemed to have a jumbled mind, anyway.

“And I realized that I never really told you what I expected of this relationship. And I feel like— like for months I’ve been trying to help you make sense of things but I never helped me make sense of things.”

Brendon’s fingers pressed against the ceramic mug and he tilted his head thoughtfully. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I mean.” He laughed to himself, sort of small, and looked down into his mug like it were more interesting than it was. “I never knew what I expected out of this because I was scared to expect anything. Because when I fell for you I wasn’t planning on living long enough to see what would become of us. And then things changed, and I realized that the whole time, I just liked the idea of you. I didn’t know you well enough to like you. Just the concept of you. I wanted you because you were this fantasy that I used when I wanted to escape my reality.” He shook his head, trying to find the words to say as Brendon stared wordlessly at him. “You were a dream, Brendon. You were this idealistic dream and I saw you and I made up this version of you that would be the perfect boyfriend. The boyfriend I needed. And I didn’t actually ever think you would actually be that for me. But you aren’t, you know? You aren’t the idealized version of you that I made up. You’re nothing like him. But you’re— you’re somehow better, because you’re you. I couldn’t make you up if I tried.”

Brendon watched him watch him, blue eyes on brown, as he tried to understand. “But you got with me because of some made up version of me you thought you were getting.” He said calculatedly.

Dallon looked away, shrugged, but nodded. “More or less.” He admitted, and when Brendon sat back in his seat he quickly added, “But that’s not entirely it, Brendon, we were friends first. We got to be really great friends.”

“I know. It’s just...” He squirmed, tightening his towel around his shoulders. “You’ve gotta stop projecting the world in your head onto the world out here, Dallon. They’re two completely different places. It’s just gonna end up hurting you.”

“I know.” Dallon agreed, cupping his mug gently, letting the words sink in because he’d told himself that a million times, but they sounded so much more trustworthy coming from Brendon Urie’s lips. “Yeah, I know. I’m working on it.” He nodded, maybe nodded too much, and Brendon didn’t know what to make of the confession but Dallon took a long sip of cocoa and held his mug tight, so tight his hands must have hurt pressed so close to the heat. “Nobody could make up somebody like you. That was where my mistake lied.”

Brendon tried to smile, licking at the chocolate on his lips and wanting to lick at Dallon’s, too. “So I exceeded your expectations?” He asked jovially, nudging at his foot under the table.

“You manage to more than you know,” Dallon admitted, and at that Brendon had to smile.

He got up from his seat as Dallon’s eyes trained on him, not questioning though he could read it in blue irises. With his towel around his shoulders he slid into the booth beside Dallon, sharing his space, deciding he wouldn’t give it back, because they’d tried that and it didn’t work.

Dallon opened his arm and Brendon tucked himself under it, leaning a head on his shoulder. “I remember what you looked like the first time I saw you.” He added reminiscently, and Brendon peeked up at him to catch his blue eyes flicker in the clouded gleam of the streetlights. “You were wearing this red and white and navy striped sweater with hearts on it. I remember seeing you and thinking, this idiot is wearing that at a high school party? Does he want to get beat up? It didn’t dawn on me until a little while later that you knew everyone was judging you, you just didn’t care. And you— you were a fucking dork, Brendon. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you had braces and square glasses and this awkward baby face and your hair was all over the place and you were perfect, somehow. Absolutely perfect. Because everyone else there was trying to fit in but you didn’t. It was like you tried to stand out.”

“I just didn’t know how to fit in,” Brendon admitted quietly, sketched through a laugh.

“Of course you didn’t. Because you’re not like anybody else. So I thought, this is the boy. He’s gonna fix me. And it was— it was sick, at first. I was in love with Ryan and I wanted to know that I could love somebody else when I knew deep down that he would never love me back. It was sick, but I saw you, and I thought, yes. Brilliant. He’s not like anybody else I’ve ever seen. He’s gonna be the boy. Not so much as a possession, just... because I was infatuated. Because I saw something in you that I could love.”

“Something that had to do with my dumb sweater and painted nails that said I was gay and knew it and was fragile enough to fall for someone who has so much potential to break my heart?” He suggested, smiling because past notions were always so silly compared to the present, and Dallon tapped his nose playfully with a grin.

“Exactly.” He agreed with a hint of a laugh. “You were a goal. And I wanted to get to know you but I didn’t know how. I bumped into you a lot, tried to build some sort of bridge, but I was scared I would ruin it, that I would ruin my fantasy. I was scared that who I really was would scare who you really were. But. This one day. Sophomore year, you sat at my table in the library during lunch. Said your friend wasn’t there. I assumed you meant Tyler, cause I’d never seen you with anybody else. So I let you sit with me, and we didn’t talk for an hour but I was comfortable with you there. I wasn’t usually comfortable with anybody being around me. And I felt like— like I could be the one you needed. It was so obvious that you needed someone to be there for you. You seemed... lonely. I was too. I thought it would make sense for us to be friends.”

“Maybe that’s why it worked out.” Brendon mused, thinking back to that day and how Dallon’s kindness had saved him from sitting alone in the cafeteria or in a bathroom stall. How even before everything they were more than just strangers. “You knew things about me that I didn’t even know yet.”

“Maybe.” He agreed, but then again they’d spent so long getting to know the simplest things about each other. “I was just lucky, I guess. It’s the only time in my life that I’ve been lucky. And at first it was... fun. Daydreaming about this boy I hardly knew. Coming up with a perfect relationship and a perfect life because my own was so hard that I wanted to check out. You just fit this image in my mind. And maybe... maybe my therapist was right, and I just fall for fragile boys that I see myself in. Maybe I’m attracted to people I think I can fix. You fit this image of an awkward, unsure, lonely boy whose walls I wanted to break through. I wanted to be something for somebody. Somebody I could relate to. Because I saw you and I knew. You were like me. I had a gut feeling. I wanted to know you. Then. Something happened: I actually liked you. I talked to you, and I cried with you in the school bathroom over nobody understanding us, and then I worked with you on that project and I chose religion because I wanted to find out if you were religious and if you thought being gay was wrong because I wanted you so bad, Brendon, that I did the stupidest things to try and tell you without saying it.”

Brendon’s eyes softened, and he played with the drawstring on Dallon’s pajama pants aimlessly. “You never told me that.” He said quietly, voice full of wonder as he tried to picture it, the way Dallon had explained his choice, how he looked when they talked. If it were just that obvious that Dallon had loved him and Brendon just couldn’t see it.

“I never knew how to.” He admitted, going on because as everything was estranged in the night he felt the words held less meaning, or maybe more, but a different meaning than they did during the day. “I sound like an idiot. Falling stupidly in love with a person I hardly knew. I never believed in love at first sight. I just think I saw you and assumed I could love you and in a million years I never would have thought I’d be right.” He breathed out, sounding disbelieving, like it were a dream. It was. It so was. “Oh, I loved you, Brendon. Before I even knew it. I thought it was just a fantasy but I ended up liking you. Spending time with you. I didn’t know that was going to happen. I was blindsided, but it was the only good thing to have happened by chance.”

Chance. That was a funny word. Because Brendon had never understood it, having grown up in a family who took him to church where he stared at a boy across the room instead, not listening to the sermons like he should have been. Maybe then he would have understood the world. Chance. He had heard of fate, God’s plan, but never chance. What happened out of nowhere. He still was unsure whether to believe in that or destiny, or maybe both played a role because then again he and Dallon were far too powerful for only one outside source.

“God, I wanted to kiss you every time you smiled at me.” He went on, caught up in the memory. “Every time you looked at me with your big tell me everything eyes and your nervous smile and the dimple in your cheek and the way your right eye squints when you smile. I love your smile so goddamn much. I wanted to know what it felt like to kiss you. And I kept saying to myself, next time. Next time I’m going to man up and do it. Kiss you and tell you how I felt and ask if you would give me a chance. No one ever gave me a chance and I knew deep down that you would. I needed to do it. It just never felt like the right time. But I wanted you so bad. When I told you about my father, and when you let me ramble on about art even though you didn’t care, and when you listened to me on Christmas; you let me cry to you, Brendon, and that meant so much to me. And I still don’t know how long it would have taken me to make the first move if you hadn’t. I don’t know if I ever would have worked up the courage to. But I swear, when I kissed you, kissed you for real, I felt... whole. I felt like I had you.”

You did have me, Brendon wanted to say. You had me before any of that. You've had me since freshman orientation, with your perfect blue enigma eyes and the way you didn’t want anybody to know you. And the way you stared at me when I talked and hung onto every word I said and held my pinky that day at the rec center because we were too scared to hold hands. And on Thanksgiving when you let me paint your nails and you called me unapologetic and rare. You’re rare too, Dallon Weekes, and you’ve always had me.

Dallon’s breath was warm on his own, and the words died in Brendon’s throat because he didn’t know how to be half as eloquent.

“I may have started out idealizing you, Brendon, but we have been so much more than that. We’ve grown together. You’re not an idealistic fantasy. You’re not a dream boy. You’re just you, but that’s more than anything I could ever want.” Dallon’s arm tightened around his shoulder and he dipped his head, his nose brushing Brendon’s and his eyes meeting his in the dark. “Of course I was going to fight for you. I’m never going to stop fighting for you.”

Brendon remembered the first time he saw Dallon too. He was wearing a blue collared short sleeve button-up, with matching blue eyes that seemed to dart around like he knew people would be staring at him. Like Brendon had he looked out of place, sitting between the two friends that he still had to this day. One of them asked him a question, and he flinched like he wasn’t expecting noise. But it was high school orientation. High school orientation was noisy.

They toured the school in scattered groups by last name and the boy was in his group so his last name had to be R to Z. He lucked out, though, getting him in his group. It was the first time he’d been separated from his best friend that day. At any school event since fifth grade, actually. The boy had parted from the group suddenly, seemingly distracted, and grabbed his friend’s wrist to pull him away.

Brendon had wanted to follow, had wanted to ask where they were going and if they could be friends, but he was behind them, he didn’t even think they realized, and he went on his way, wondering where they had gone. Dallon had said once, a year and a half ago, that they had snuck to the bathroom to get away.

Even then, Brendon wondered who he was. It felt now as if all of this was inevitable.

“I was in your orientation group,” Brendon told him suddenly, playing with his hand.

Dallon looked down at him, eyebrows furrowed. “You were?” Brendon nodded. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, no, I was alone and quiet and behind you. You wouldn’t have seen me. But I saw you. You and Ryan snuck away from the group and went to the bathroom and I wondered where you went until you told me when we became friends.” He rested his chin on his shoulder, pouting up at him. “You said you went to the bathroom.”

“Yeah.” Dallon nodded, rubbing his shoulder. “I was really overwhelmed. Going back to school after my dad dying and spending so much time in the hospital. I missed my last month of eighth grade. I made up the work from home but I couldn’t go back after the funeral. Be the pity kid that everyone stared at because his dad died. It was hard just living with that. I couldn’t go to school with it too. So going back was really hard.”

“I couldn’t even imagine.” He shook his head, turning to look up at him, but not with pity. “You’re strong.”

“Just doing what I had to do.” He shrugged, but it was so much more. It was bravery. Brendon wished he could be that brave. He wished he could have any ounce of strength that Dallon had.

“I wish I was that brave.” He decided to say, thinking too hard about it suddenly.

“I know you don’t even realize it, but you are brave, Brendon. A lot more than you know.” He pressed a kiss to Brendon’s temple, and he guessed he never really thought about it. That everything he had gone through that year could constitute as brave.

He guessed he was brave. That had to count for something.

“I’m gonna go up to bed.” Dallon said quietly after a minute, and Brendon supposed he noticed the sleepiness in his eyes. “You comin’?”

“I’ll be up in a minute.” He assured him, smiling for good measure as he let Dallon out of the booth. It wasn’t a fake smile. It was more than sincere. More than he himself even knew.

“Okay.” Dallon kissed the top of his head and disappeared up the staircase, leaving Brendon alone in the dark. He stood in the middle of the diner for a minute, looking around at the world as it slept.

He found his apron under the counter, where he’d left it when his shift was over. Tucked in the pocket was a folded-up note, a list of apologies from the boy he forgave. Of course he forgave him. He didn’t have to read it to know that.

He unfolded it slowly, fingers treating it like glass because to him, it was fragile. Apologies always were.

Brendon, Dallon’s handwriting at the top of the page read. A simple word, just his name, one he’s grown up with and heard every day. One that defined who he was. But it felt so different coming from Dallon. More meaningful. Like that one, single word held millions of other ones.

He sat down at the counter, flattening out the crumbled paper with his fingers. A list of apologies. Brendon was almost scared to be reminded.

1.) I’m sorry I didn’t reach out to you sooner after the first time we met. I was scared of ruining everything I had fantasized about with you.

2.) I’m sorry for trying to make you up.

3.) I’m sorry for never letting you know the real me. For hiding my secrets and lying and keeping parts of me away from you. I always loved that you put me on a pedestal. I think in the future, we can treat each other like equals.

4.) I’m sorry for relying on everybody else to tell me how you feel.

5.) I’m sorry I snap at you so often. I know I can’t help it sometimes, but I want to treat you better.

6.) I’m sorry for being so manipulative. I try so hard not to be. I’m going to try harder. I swear I will.

7.) I’m sorry I deny when things aren’t perfect because it doesn’t fit my fantasy. I realized that this is real life and I need to come to terms with everything. Even the bad things.

8.) I’m sorry I neglect you sometimes when you really need me.

9.) I’m sorry for not telling you things about me and then getting mad when you don’t understand why I act the way I do. It’s not fair for me to want you to read my mind.

10.) I’m sorry I scared you. I’m sorry I wanted to, and that I manipulated you to keep you.

11.) I’m sorry I don’t know how not to lie sometimes.

12.) I’m sorry I ever made you feel like I didn’t love you as much as you love me. I love you more than I know how to say. I’m sorry I don’t know how to say it, too.

13.) I’m sorry for saying so many things that hurt you.

14.) I’m sorry for being someone that you don’t know when I know that that hurts you. I want you to trust me. I want to give you a reason to trust me.

15.) I’m sorry it took so long for me to tell you about Ryan. I was scared you wouldn’t trust me anymore.

16.) I’m sorry for almost cheating on you and for not knowing how to cope if it isn’t detrimental.

17.) I’m sorry for how often we fight. I hate that I try to push you away. That I forget it’s you sometimes and that I treat you so badly.

18.) I’m sorry I didn’t take care of you on Halloween. I should have taken better care of you.

19.) I’m sorry that there are so many things on this list, and that I have so much more to add to it. I’m going to leave it at twenty. Let me know if you need more, because I have so much to say.

20.) I’m sorry that I’ll probably have more to apologize for in the future, too.

Brendon folded the paper again as he read the last words, tears in his eyes, as he slipped it back into his apron. Dallon was sorry. He trusted that he was. What mattered was that he was addressing those flaws and vowing to change them.

He forgave him. Of course he forgave him. Dallon had forgiven Brendon quite a few times, too. And after all, nothing could be as bad as it had been. Because he was going to get better. He knew it. He just needed a little bit of time.

Sometimes the calm had to happen after the storm.

He crawled into bed and right up to Dallon in the dark, pressing his chest to his back. “I forgive you.” He whispered in his ear, a hand steady on his shoulder, and he could feel him smile.

* * *

“Hey, I have a question.” Brendon said quietly on Saturday evening, snacking on the bowl of chips his boyfriend put out for them while Dallon scrolled aimlessly through his Netflix homepage. Dallon hummed, hovering over this one movie to read the description, and Brendon pulled his legs up to tuck underneath him. “Can I go to church with you tomorrow?”

Dallon looked up at him, more surprised than Brendon expected him to be. “Really?” Brendon nodded, and Dallon’s eyebrows skipped high in disbelief. “Well, sure, yeah. If you want to.”

“Is it really that surprising?” Brendon laughed at his skepticism, making Dallon smile too.

“I mean, yeah. I didn’t know you were interested in going back.” He reasoned, but that was an understatement. Dallon didn’t even really think that Brendon believed in God.

“I wasn’t. But— I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I feel like I should go. I haven’t been in years, and I know it helps you, so... I just think I should try and find that connection. I need something like that right now.”

“I think that could be good for you.” He agreed, though he may have been biased. Believing in God helped him, maybe not in the conventional way but in some regard nonetheless. He wondered if maybe it would help Brendon too.

Brendon smiled gratefully at him and they fell into a comfortable silence once more. Dallon continued to search for a movie, as they had run out of movies they really wanted to watch on their list, and Brendon followed his finger on the trackpad aimlessly.

“So, when you were gone I saw my psychiatrist. She thinks I have PTSD.” Brendon said quietly after a moment, having forgotten to mention it before. Dallon looked up at him, closing his laptop over his fingers and directing his attention toward him. “And they changed my meds again to something that might help that too so I guess we’ll see. The past two obviously didn’t work.”

“That’s a really big deal, Bren.” Dallon said, and Brendon shrugged, he guessed it was. Didn’t doctors diagnose things all the time? “I mean, I believe it.” He added, setting aside his laptop, and that part was a bit surprising. He felt like the only one who didn’t expect it. “What you went through was traumatizing.”

“I just kind of feel like a fraud.” He admitted, trying to put into words how he’d been feeling lately. “I mean, nothing was really wrong with me before all this, you know? Now all of a sudden I have depression and PTSD.” He waved his hands around, trying to make sense of it. This sudden transduction. He knew he wasn’t like this before. At least he thought he knew.

“No. You’ve had depression for a while.” Dallon corrected him, and even though he knew as much as Brendon did, he always seemed to explain it better. “And you’ve always been scared. I guess it’s more complicated now. But what happened to you this past year was bad. PTSD is literally sparked by traumatic experiences. Don’t undermine yourself or belittle what happened. Having a diagnosis is important. It means it’ll be easier to help you. You’re not invalid just because your story isn’t identical to all the ones you read online.”

“I feel like you should make motivational posters for guidance counselors, or something.” Brendon said, and Dallon smiled when he moved his laptop aside and went to sit closer to him. “It just makes it more real, I guess.”

“Well, pretending it wasn’t doing you any favors.” He scooped up Brendon’s legs and put them on his lap, holding him by the lower back. Brendon kissed him because he felt like he needed to. He liked to remind himself sometimes that he was allowed to do that.

Dallon pulled away, bumping their noses together. He was the one who had frequent visits to the hospital and with a therapist. He knew what he was talking about. Still, Brendon couldn’t help but feel strange now that it had been put into a box. Labels always scared him when he hadn’t labeled them himself.

“Hey. This is a good thing, Brendon. You’re gonna get help.” Dallon assured him after a moment, having realized that he was zoning out. Brendon looked up, touching the side of his face with adoration. Maybe he was right. A diagnosis was a good thing.

“I love you.” Brendon kissed him again, holding his face in his hands like he were treasuring him. He was. Dallon knew it, too. “And you’re right. I guess this is a good thing.”

“It is.” Dallon promised, holding him close, and Brendon knew he knew what he was talking about. He guessed he had no choice but to believe him.

* * *

Brendon had a dream that he had been walking through this forest, barefoot and wide eyed as he looked around at the flowers and fireflies and colorful mushrooms growing out of logs. Soft music was playing, like the kind that played out of a baby’s mobile, and the air was sweet and hazy and he felt like he could breathe. He walked and walked until he found a clearing, and right there under a canopy of trees were these waterfalls that pooled in a little watering hole that he stood in for a long moment before he dove in.

He sat up in bed, sweaty and breathing heavy, but with the hint of a smile on his face. Months of feeling like he was tied down had passed, and when he woke up it felt like some sort of weight had been lifted. Maybe he needed to be lost in the forest for a little while before he found his way back to the path that led to the waterfall down the way. Maybe he needed to see everything from a different perspective. Maybe everybody was right, and things would get better.

Brendon exchanged smiles with himself in the mirror as he buttoned up his shirt. He had to say a prayer of gratitude for every white blood cell. Every thin layer of skin that protected his wounds, every aperture in the armor he didn’t know he needed. He had to thank himself for the past seven months because though they had been strenuous and heartbreaking and lachrymose, he would use them to learn. Everything had to be a lesson.

And as he counted his buttons on his shirt to make sure they were all there, touched them each and bit his lip happily, he reiterated that lesson over and over as it all replayed in his head. Getting through it. Being lent strength. The placebo effect. Taking back your body. Getting to know yourself again. Depression snuck up on him and he hadn’t known it at the time, but it was going to change his life.

And what he had learned even furthermore was that it would keep changing his life. Every day would be a battle, but maybe he would have more moments of clarity. More feelings of everything being alright. Like Dallon had mentioned once. Dallon’s moment of clarity had been a walk through a thunderstorm. And, well, Brendon had been through one hell of a storm, metaphorically of course. And physically, really. The past few months had been a lot.

But they had been his, and as badly as he wished to regress a few months, to scupper his mental illness’s attempt at attack, he knew that in there somewhere was something to be learned. And as he got ready for the long day ahead of him he didn’t spend much time dwelling on what that was. All he knew was that he had to keep working at getting better. There were good days and bad days.

But today, he was going to have a good day.

“Hey, baby. How you doin’ today?” Dallon asked when Brendon climbed into the passenger seat, wearing an uncharacteristic grin as he slammed the door shut behind him.

“I’m good.” He leaned his head back against the seat and smiled at him boldly, hoping it came across as realer than all the ones he’d forced over the past few months. “I’m good, Dal.”

“I take it standing on top of the world gave you a whole new outlook, huh?” He observed, and Brendon noticed the smile tugging at his lips too, but chose not to point it out. The way he was so proud of him sometimes.

“And seeing the world in its most natural state— it kind of did,” Brendon admitted, tugging at his seatbelt and wondering if that was all there was to it. He wasn't cured, but he was feeling like it wasn’t so serious anymore. The world was so big. He was so small. It was an average existential crisis, except it really put him in his place. He was starting to see things clearly now. “I just keep thinking about things objectively. How in the long run none of this will matter because the world keeps moving and I’m just this tiny little thing functioning with everything else. And it’s daunting, you know, but it’s also so comforting. That my mistakes aren’t going to make the sky fall. It just stops my world for a minute. But it’s got me thinking, Dallon, there are so many things in this world that I’m scared of. I’m scared of heights. And standing up there was like... if I can conquer a fear where I could literally trip and plummet to my death at any moment, then I can do anything. Standing in a storm like you did once. Like you wrote about. I felt that deep in my chest when I read it, and that was when I hardly knew you. When I didn’t know what it was like. Now I do. And everything seems more nuanced. Which gives me more of a reason to believe that I’m allowed to make mistakes and have bad days and be upset sometimes. There’s so much going on in this world. Sometimes it feels like it’s all mine. Other times, not so much.”

“It’s peaceful. Knowing that every little mistake you make isn’t the end of the world, cause there are a million mistakes being made every day.” Dallon figured, and Brendon felt relieved just hearing it. It took off so much of the pressure. Knowing that he could just be.

“Yeah.” He agreed, turning to look out the window. “Yeah, it is.”

He hadn’t been to church in years. It almost felt like he wasn’t welcome, as he climbed out of the car and looked up at the building like it were taunting him. He stood in the doorway for a minute, hesitant, but Dallon took his hand without a second thought. He guessed it wasn’t exactly how it used to be. “You ready?” Dallon asked, nodding his head toward the entrance.

“Yeah.” Brendon agreed after a moment, and to his surprise he sounded confident with his own words. He was ready to go back. It felt like forever.

Brendon never really understood the concept of God. He seemed like a joke, sometimes. Or just some idea of something to cling to for comfort. He figured that after everything, he couldn’t resort to begging God for help when he had shown he didn’t believe. It felt like watching a mystery movie. Everything seems so falsified, but you’re still on the edge of your seat waiting for the answer.

Dallon believed in God. He’d explained it, or at least tried to, but there were only so many ways he could try before it became a lost cause. You either believe it or you don’t. Brendon was still unsure. But sometimes he caught Dallon staring up like he were searching for something, anything, constantly seeking comfort from somebody he didn’t need to ask because He already knew. At least, that was how Brendon thought it was supposed to work.

It was just— Brendon believed in science. Evolution. All the evidence was right there. But then again, Dallon did too. He was a smart person in that regard. But believing in science never got him the answers he wanted, so he figured that it couldn’t be that wrong to at least try and talk to God. Even if there were so many qualifications to be considered good.

He was a sinner in the eyes of the church. An infidel, a sodomist, whatever. But God preached forgiveness. Peace, love, all that. Brendon couldn’t find it in him to forgive himself most days; he needed someone else to do it for him. He had to hope that someone would, despite everything.

His footsteps sounded daunting to his own ears as he followed Dallon down the aisle. It felt ironic, in a way. An aisle in a church with the boy he loved. Dallon pointed somebody out and she waved to him, an old woman with glasses and this warm smile. He smiled back, leading Brendon to her without a word.

“Well, I’ve never seen you here before.” She observed in lieu of a greeting, looking Brendon up and down fondly.

“Nope, he’s new today.” Dallon rubbed Brendon’s back like he were his pride and joy because he was, Brendon just didn’t know it. “This is my partner, Brendon. Brendon, this is Maureen.”

“Brendon, it’s so nice to meet you.” The woman shook Brendon’s hand and he nodded, nervous around all the new people though Dallon’s hand on the center of his back steadied him. “What brings you here?”

“Oh, uh...” He bristled into Dallon, not having realized people would ask him questions; he didn’t exactly know how to talk to people he didn’t know. Especially not ones surrounding him in a church.

“His family raised him in the church. He decided to come again after not going for a while.” Dallon slid his hand up to set on his shoulder, explaining what Brendon didn’t know how to. He didn’t want to explain that he felt out of place and unloved by God because he liked boys. That felt like the wrong thing to say.

“Well, welcome back.” She nodded kindly and Brendon smiled, nodding back and leaning deep into Dallon’s touch.

“I’ve got you.” Dallon whispered in his ear when Maureen stepped away, going to greet a friend and leaving the two to stand and take it all in. His church was nice, small, and across the room Dallon’s mother socialized as Dallon held Brendon in his arms, protective as he could sense his anxiety. “Do you wanna go?”

“No.” Brendon assured him, wrapping his arms around himself to capture Dallon’s hands. “No, I’d like to stay, I think.”

“Okay. Let’s go find a seat, then.” Dallon led him to where he usually sat, though Brendon didn’t know it. Some things like that just didn’t matter much. He was just happy to be welcomed.

His shoulder brushed against Dallon’s as they sat down together, and he felt at home beside him. He always did, really. He was glad they were getting close again. He was glad they were both taking steps to be better.

He slid his hand into Dallon’s, tucking them between his thighs and smiling when he looked at him. “Thank you.” He whispered, and it stood for a million different things, but Dallon nodded, because he always seemed to get it. Brendon loved that about him.

He sat back against the wooden pew, holding Dallon’s hand tight.

* * *

“Are they all okay with this? Us?” Brendon asked later that day as he sat across from Dallon at Grandma Daisy’s, poking at his ice cream before he dug his spoon in.

“They’re okay with me.” Dallon said calculatedly, and Brendon looked up at him curiously, aimlessly biting his spoon. “I grew up with these people, Brendon. It’s unconventional, but any unreasonable doubt in their minds ceased to exist the more time they spent with me. Mormons may not support most of my beliefs but they still accept me and love me and that means something in any regard.”

“Yeah, it does. You’re right. I just always grew up scared that people in the church were gonna hate me for being gay or just... y’know. Being me. I never fit what they seemed to want. I guess things have changed, huh?”

“Yeah.” Dallon agreed; that was an understatement. “Yeah, things have changed a lot. I’m more comfortable at church than I was when I came to terms with who I was. It wasn’t just coming out, but after everything I was looking for reasons to hate the world. I wanted to pretend everyone hated me like I hated them.”

“You did a pretty good job.” Brendon pointed out, bumping his foot against Dallon’s under the table.

“For a while, yeah. It just gets exhausting playing the victim after a while. It feels so much better owning up to all the things I’ve done.”

“I think it’s brave of you to do that. Apologizing. A lot of people could never be that strong.” Brendon offered; it was true. No one else he knew would put themselves so out in the open like that. Especially someone who was so scared of doing that in the first place.

“Thank you, Bren.” Dallon adulated, and it seemed as though he hadn’t brought that into consideration.

“Mm.” He took a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, trying not to make a big deal out of it for Dallon’s sake. “So, hey. I thought about it. And I think... I think that the entire concept of God is a metaphor. Like, God is a metaphor for life itself. And the meaning of life is to be kind to one another and, like, all the stuff the bible teaches you. So there is no believing or not believing. There’s just, like... realizing your own place. Having that cognizance if God representing something and not actually being something.”

“That very well might be true.” Dallon offered, but Brendon’s guess was as good as his. He didn’t know who God was. Why He was. It was all just a mystery. That was part of the appeal. “No matter what it all means, I’m happy you’re looking for some meaning in it. It helps me a lot. I think it could help you too.”

“Yeah, I’m hoping this’ll be good for me. Building some connections.” He scooped up a gummy bear, frozen from the ice cream. ”Hey, so. I wanted to say thank you. For the letter. I know it wasn’t easy for you to write, but I’m really glad you care enough to apologize.” He added after a moment.

Dallon looked up from his own ice cream, seemingly surprised that Brendon would bring it up. “Oh. Yeah. I just wanted to get us back to a good place. I think it’s really important for me to be honest. Especially now.” He bumped his spoon against Brendon’s playfully. “Thank you for forgiving me.”

“Thank you for forgiving me too.” Brendon said, and he meant for it to sound playful, but it didn’t. It was solemn. Honest. He hadn’t realized until now how lucky they both were that they forgave each other time and time again.

“Of course.” Dallon returned just as gently, and something told Brendon that he was realizing just how lucky they were too.


	67. Chapter 66: To Be Held Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I ship Ryan and Dallon more at this point in the story lmao

Brendon rolled his eyes to himself as he passed by another prom poster, tugging at his shirt in disdain and going to set his tray down at the usual lunch table. “Hey.” He peeped, and everyone nodded their heads at him in a greeting.

“Where have you been?” Dallon kissed his cheek and went to peel open his fruit punch.

“I got stopped while I was walking here by a promposal, believe it or not.” Brendon sighed, and it was ridiculous but it was prom season now, as April ceased to exist and a warm May was upon them.

“Ah. And BCHS is introduced to the clichés.” Ryan said, and Brendon nodded in agreement. He never understood the prom hype. It was just a stupid dance, and as somebody who had always been indifferent to PDA he was waiting for it all to be over. Besides, he didn’t like promposals, and he’d been anticipating not going for his whole high school career. Having a boyfriend didn’t change any of that.

That night he sat in Kyla’s bed, half-heartedly peeling off the face mask she’d given him as she rambled on about how excited she was for him, always having been one for the high school clichés. He didn’t even really want to go, not after everything that happened that year.

“What’s so great about it, though? I mean, dressing up and dancing and hearing bad music. Not to mention the fact that I’d be in the spotlight because of everything. I already feel like everybody is watching me.” He squirmed uncomfortably, picturing it. Dancing in the middle of the gym, their school never had prom anywhere else, with everyone’s eyes on him. It didn’t sound like fun. It sounded miserable.

“Brendon, come on. I know you’ve had a shitty year but that’s just more of an incentive to go to prom and have fun. This can be your last hurrah of senior year! I mean, what about Dallon?”

“What about him?”

She rolled her eyes. "He's your boyfriend. Doesn't he wanna go to prom?"

Brendon shrugged, reaching out to grab a tissue and peeling off more of the mask. He and Dallon hadn’t really talked about it. Made fun of some of the elaborate promposals, poked fun at the concept, but Dallon hadn’t asked him so he didn’t plan on bringing it up. It was just a school dance. A cliché milestone. He doubted Dallon would want to go, anyway. “I don’t know, Kyla, he hasn’t mentioned anything so I assume we’re not going. He has to know that I’m not the kind of person to make a big deal out of prom. And besides, it’s in a week. I wouldn’t be ready anyway.”

She threw her arms up in distress. "You're a boy, Brendon! You buy a tux and brush your hair and you’re all set. And as a bonus, you don't even have to buy a corsage."

"Haha." He uncrossed his legs and climbed out of her bed, wiping off the rest of the mask and throwing his tissue away. "Look. No offense to your weird obsession with cliché high school bullshit. I’m just— I’m not the kind of person to go to prom. I’m just not. Dallon really isn’t either. I don’t need to get all dressed up and dance and have a bunch of people staring at me to have a good time.”

“You’re so narcissistic, Brendon, calm down. Not everyone’s looking at you all the time.”

“Sorry, the hate pages about me on Instagram say otherwise.” He went to lean against the doorframe and her eyes softened, looking guilty all of a sudden though that wasn’t his intention. He just didn’t know how else to say it. Nobody wanted him there. He didn’t want to be somewhere he wasn’t wanted. “We’re not the same, Kyla. I just want to stay out of the spotlight for once. If that means staying home from prom then so be it.”

“Alright, Bren.” She sat on the edge of her bed with a sigh. “Sorry for pushing it, then. I get it. Goodnight, little brother.”

“It’s okay. I appreciate your concern, I just don’t think it’s a good place for me right now. Goodnight.” He nodded at her and slipped into his own room, flopping down on his bed with a sigh. No one got it. He didn’t expect them to. He was just tired of trying to explain himself.

Dally: goodnight beautiful love love love u

Bumblebee: goodnight love u so much more

He rolled over onto his side went to chew on his thumb nail, staring at his screen and wondering if it was really all worth it. It was just a stupid dance.

Urie: what do u think about prom?

Ty: do not tell me you're thinking of not going to prom

Urie: ...I’m thinking of not going to prom?

Ty: oh my god tiny you HAVE to go to prom we have to dance and get free food and dress up and show off!!!! you have so much to show off!!! gorgeous you and your gorgeous boyfriend will be the second prettiest there next to me obviously and we’ll have so much fun and there will be chaperones so no alcohol and I’ll keep an eye on you I promise

Urie: okay even if I wanted to go I don’t even know if dallon would

Ty: everyone wants to go to prom!

Urie: except me

Ty: okay you’re SO annoying

Urie: but u think I’m gorgeous?

Ty: of course I think you’re gorgeous baby Urie and you’ll be even more gorgeous at prom the event of the year the event of a lifetime

Urie: you literally act like a character in a bad cliche high school movie I’m going to bed I’ll talk to you later

Before he could get a response Brendon locked his phone, turning back over to stare at the dinosaur holding a cake. Prom was never in the cards for him. He didn’t dance in front of people. He didn’t want to be around people. He just wanted this year to end quietly and without any noise.

Brendon followed Dallon down the hallway the next afternoon, his bag hanging over his shoulder as he still had work to make up. He’d been working harder these days, trying to get everything done before graduation. “Hey, I have a question.” Dallon said conversationally as Brendon trailed behind him, making a noise of acknowledgment and waiting for him to pull open the door. Dallon clicked on the light and Brendon stopped in his tracks, eyes growing wide as he saw it.

“Oh, Dallon.” He sighed, putting a hand to his chest. Bouquets of roses sat on every surface and rose petals on the floor spelled out prom. “You’re such a fucking dork.” He smacked his arm and Dallon laughed, but Brendon was overwhelmed. He told him he didn’t care about prom. He was under the impression that it wasn’t an option.

“There’s, uh, four hundred twenty-eight roses. That's how many days we've been together." Dallon gestured to the bouquets and then turned toward him, smiling hopefully when Brendon looked at him in disbelief. It was sweet. It really was. It just wasn’t what Brendon wanted to do. “So...?” He took his hands, shaking him around playfully. “Will you go to prom with me?”

“I’m so... confused. No, Dallon. I told you I didn’t want to go.” He looked around, putting a hand to his chest. “You did all of this for me?”

“Yeah!” He poked at Brendon with childlike glee. “So you’re not saying no to me. You owe me one good night. You can’t say no.”

Brendon sighed, staring at the rose petals and shaking his head. He couldn’t believe him sometimes. His bravado. "Dallon, it's literally five days before prom." He said, simultaneously stunned and trying to think up an excuse. “No. You know I don’t wanna go to prom. That wasn’t code for please ask me. Look.” He reached out for him, Dallon pouting, and tugged on the collar of his shirt carefully. “Dallon. I love you. And you know I love doing cliché couple things with you. But I don’t want to go. I know we’ve had a shitty few months and I owe you for putting up with me but I just don’t feel comfortable going. Being in the spotlight. Being around all those people. My senior year was the shittiest year of my life. This would just be the icing on top of the fucking terrible year cake. I just want to eat my weight in pizza and fries and watch movies in my pajamas and make out with my cute boyfriend.”

“Brendon.” He sighed in exasperation, gripping his shoulders. “You have to go to prom. Your cute boyfriend is asking you. I know you’ve had a really rough year, okay? And you don’t owe me, that’s not what I mean, I just... I want to have some fun with you. I wanna have that stupid cliché milestone. You feel better, right?” Hesitantly, Brendon nodded. “I know it’s dumb I know it’s cliché and so heteronormative and I never wanted to go and I wasn’t going to ask until like, a week ago. This is the last chance I’m gonna get to dance with you in front of everyone and tell them all that I don’t care what they have to say about that. I wanna do something we’ve never done. I wanna say a final fuck you to all the assholes who hate us for being who we are. We have to go. It's a rite of passage."

Brendon sat down on Dallon's bed and pushed his hair out of his eyes tiredly. He had no idea they would be in such different places about this. "But— it's just that prom is for all the popular kids that everybody loves and gets along with. Prom is for normal people. Prom isn't for people like me."

“Brendon, come on. You’re not abnormal because you’re gay or because you’re you or because of what happened to you. Don’t get all internalized homophobia on me.” He sat down beside him and Brendon sighed, letting Dallon take his hands. “Prom is a school event. Anybody can go to it. And you are not going to reject my asking you to prom. Do you know how expensive roses are?” Brendon smiled despite himself. “Look, they gave me two free tickets for painting the mural. We can go, get our pictures taken, something for our parents to treasure forever, we'll eat the free food and hang out with our friends, and if you really, really want to, then we'll go home. Consider it a birthday present to me. Yeah?"

“Dallon-“

“C’mon. Don’t make me ask Ryan.”

“Oh, you are so mean.” Brendon smacked his arm and Dallon laughed, knowing that he had him wrapped around his finger. “Fine. You’re fucking lucky that I love you so much.”

“We’re gonna have so much fun. I promise.” Dallon pulled him into a hug and Brendon rolled his eyes, letting him hug him because if it made him happy then he would do it.

“I am so getting fucked afterward.” He added, as a condition or some sort, and Dallon grinned at him when he pulled away. “I’m serious.” He insisted.

“We will make sure it happens.” He linked his pinky with Brendon’s, nodding. Brendon sighed, but smiled nonetheless. He liked Dallon’s smile. He’d do whatever he had to to keep it there.

“I can’t believe you did this for me.” Brendon mused as a second thought, looking around at the flowers. Dallon watched him, wonderstruck, and Brendon stuck out his bottom lip childishly, tugging at his shirt. “Even though I busted your lip open.”

“Even though.” Dallon agreed with a hint of a laugh, reaching out to touch his side as if trying to hold him. He did all this for him. That meant a lot, after the past few months. “So, I’m gonna pick you up when prom starts because we don’t want to be the first ones there, obviously. We’ll meet everyone there and eat there, of course, but if you wanna go out to eat afterward then we can. Pancakes, or something. Also, you’re gonna need to buy or rent a tux if you don’t already have one. I already got mine, so-“

“Wait.” Brendon interrupted. “You already got it? You didn’t even know if I was gonna say yes.”

“I was staying hopeful!” He laughed, recoiling when Brendon went to smack his arm. “What?! I know you. You give in. Especially to me. I love you.” He pouted playfully when Brendon glared, though he thought it was funny, in a way. Dallon really did know him. He didn’t even realize when he’d let his walls down.

“I hate that I can’t say no to you.” Brendon sighed, supposing that he really did give in. Dallon just deserved to get what he wanted. Brendon thought he had gone far too long without.

“It works out in my favor.” Dallon pointed out, beaming at him. He was never one for clichés. Never one to plan his future wedding during his youth, or cut out a vision board, or to dream about his senior prom. But then again he had been shocking Brendon for a while now. He’d learned not to try and predict Dallon Weekes.

Brendon stuck out his tongue mockingly anyway, because he knew it would make Dallon keep smiling. He just wanted to keep him smiling. Dallon took his face in his hands and Brendon swung his legs on Dallon’s thighs, shoving him playfully but clinging to him as he had for weeks. “What the hell are we supposed to do with four hundred roses, anyway?”

Dallon burst out into laughter and Brendon did too. “I’m gonna plant them upstairs, don’t worry.” He assured him, and Brendon decided it was worth it.

* * *

Dallon’s nineteenth birthday fell in the middle of the week, as they prepared for prom and the incoming summer, when they’d hopefully be moving out into a place of their own. Dallon was impartial toward his birthday; he had been for years, since all that magic had disappeared. Since the childlike innocence of waking up excited over another year had just become distress over it instead. But Brendon still took him out to lunch with their friends, brought him a cake, made a point out of leaning in to steal kisses every few minutes, even when everyone was watching. It was May, and Brendon just wanted him to smile.

He sat on Dallon’s bed and rocked back and forth excitedly, watching Dallon open the gifts he’s gotten him. Some art supplies, a watercolor palette he’d ran out of, a few good brushes, one of those putty eraser things he loved. At the bottom of the bag were a set of framed photos, and Brendon watched his face for a reaction, his eyes soft, as he looked them over.

“Oh, Brendon.” He cooed, making Brendon smile wide. “This is so sweet.”

Brendon nodded, pointing overzealously at one of the frames. “They’re for our future home. When we have one, I mean.” He added, and Dallon smiled down at the frame in his hand, ran his thumb over the photo of he and Brendon on their first date. They looked so nervous. So hopeful. “We’re gonna be living together this summer, and hopefully forever, and I mean... it’s gonna be hard. I wanna ease into it with things that feel like home. So I was thinking we could hang them on the wall in the living room or something, somewhere we can see them every day, but they’re yours so you can decide where they go. I left two open, one for prom and one for graduation.”

“This is so thoughtful, thank you.” He said sincerely and leaned in to capture his lips, setting a hand on his shoulder. Their future home. It was coming soon, graduation, and he could just picture it. A month and a half from now, going crazy with paintings and photos and throw pillows. The living room decorated with pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks, smiles documented so preciously and big brown eyes that had been so lucky to fall upon blue ones.

Brendon pulled away and Dallon looked down again, tracing the smile on one of his favorite photos of he and Brendon. The way his right eye squinted a little more than the left, how his smile took up half his face. Dallon loved that smile. Brendon watched his finger trail over the glass before he set it aside and reached out to wrap an arm around him. Brendon hugged back, a little startled, as Dallon hooked his chin over his shoulder.

“Thank you for being here for me.” He whispered simply, but Brendon knew the translation. This is May. This is May and it’s hard and my depression is bad but I’m trying to get through it because I know you are too. Thank you for being alive, I promise I will be too. Thank you for giving me a reason.

“You’re welcome, sunshine.” Brendon whispered back, rubbing in between his shoulder blades until Dallon pulled away to thumb his cheek.

“We’ve got a long couple of weeks ahead of us, Urie.” He added, but half smiled as he said it. It was something to look forward to. Prom and moving in together and graduating. Moving on from so many months where he didn’t know that was possible.

“I’m ready if you are.”

“Oh, I’m ready.” He said it like a challenge, and Brendon scrunched up his nose, baring his teeth. He was ready. He didn’t think he would be, but he was. He could feel it.

“I’m excited for our life.” Brendon admitted just then, tugging at Dallon’s shirt and shifting to lay down on his bed. Dallon followed him with his eyes, reaching out to rub his leg mindlessly. “I mean, it’s gonna be fun. Getting to know each other domestically and intimately. More than we have, anyway. Having our own space. That makes it so much more real. Us. You and me.” He poked at Dallon’s thigh with his socked foot, smiling. "I’m so sophisticated, I have a nineteen-year-old boyfriend."

“I’m not that much more of an adult than you.” Dallon shrugged, but Brendon didn’t see it that way. Dallon was a lot more mature than most people he knew. Even when he had his moments. Loss could do that to a person. “But I’m excited for our life too, Brendon.” He added, just to make sure he knew, but Brendon did. He didn’t need reminding. He still nodded, though, beamed at him, and pulled him down to kiss him. It was May. Brendon was going to do anything to make Dallon forget it.

* * *

He never should have said yes. Prom was stupid. It was a stupid tradition and he looked like he was trying too hard and he didn’t even really know how to dance. He got a tuxedo from the place that his brothers had gotten theirs, having gotten his family’s opinions before his mother paid for it, just happy that he was going. Being a normal boy like he hadn’t for so long.

He wondered how many people had worn it before as he got himself ready in the mirror in his mother’s room. How many people had gone to prom in it? How many funerals or weddings or special occasions had it been to? It probably had a more fulfilling life than Brendon did, anyway.

He felt like a Barbie doll or his five-year-old self, letting his sisters dress him up and having to deny when they tried to put makeup on him. He would if he wasn’t going to be displaying himself after the hardest year of his life to the entire senior class. But he still looked like him, his dumb glasses and all. He was never good at dress up. He guessed now that was a good thing.

Kyla began to tug at his tie but he swatted at her. “Stop, I can do it.” Brendon pulled away indignantly, and Kyla rolled her eyes but let him be as Kara poked her head into the room, beaming at him.

“Dallon is here, little one. Wanna do a dramatic entrance or should I send him up here?”

“Dramatic entrances are so cliché, tell him to come up.” He instructed, and they nodded at each other in commendation before she slipped out of the room, reaching out for her little sister to follow her. Kyla sighed, but looked over Brendon one more time and grinned like she had done good, before she followed Kara out.

Brendon turned back toward the mirror, and okay, he looked nice. He looked better than he usually did, anyway, religiously washed his face all week and got a haircut just for the occasion. Painted his nails black and convinced himself that he looked okay, he looked good, he wasn’t going to have a bad night. Footsteps approached the room, and excitement buzzed in his veins.

“Oh, wow.” Dallon almost stopped in his tracks, urging a smile from the smaller boy as he turned to face Dallon. “Wow, Brendon.”

“So it’s okay?” He asked hopefully, tugging at the cuffs. He felt like maybe it was a little too big, but Dallon was looking at him with adoration and then again, maybe everything fit perfectly.

“It’s perfect, Bren. You’re so beautiful. Let me look at you.” Brendon smiled when Dallon cupped his face in his hands, brushing his pink cheeks with his thumbs and tucking short hair behind his ears. “God, you are so beautiful.”

“Stop.” Brendon swatted at him, embarrassed, and turned around to look in the mirror again, at Dallon smiling behind him. He was clad in a nice suit too, not unlike Brendon’s, and his hair was still messy and he was still holding this weight on his shoulders but he was beautiful, too, if Brendon had ever known beauty. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” Dallon reached out to put a hand on his waist gingerly, like he were scared to mess something up. “Hey, your tie is on wrong.” He noticed suddenly. “Here, turn around.” He guided him to turn, and Brendon tilted his chin upwards just the slightest bit so that Dallon could adjust the chain on his neck and then the tie, which he’d tried to fix himself. “Cross them, over, above, under.”

“I hate that you’re so good at everything.” Brendon said quietly, and Dallon smiled down at him fondly while he straightened the tie. “Thanks. I, um. I never learned.”

“Well, now you know.” Dallon put a hand on his shoulder again and Brendon smiled warmly, a thank you without words. “So I was gonna get you a corsage or something but I figured that would be way too cheesy, and then you’d laugh at me, so...”

“You’re right, I totally would!” Brendon poked his chest, and Dallon grabbed his hand and pressed a kiss to his extended index finger before he pulled him close to wrap an arm around his shoulders. He was grateful. Brendon knew.

“Hey, thank you for coming with me tonight, Urie. I never wanted to go to prom either but I think we deserve a night. A milestone.” Dallon rocked him back and forth gently, though Brendon actually found himself looking forward to it. Nervous, still, but looking forward.

“I think you’re right.” Brendon whispered, letting him, and only pulled away to turn back to the mirror to look at the two of them. “You are so fucking gorgeous, Dal.” He told him, because he felt like maybe he didn’t say it enough.

“Well, I knew I had to work harder if I wanted to look good next to you, so.” He smiled when Brendon tsked. “Hey, I have something for you. I’m gonna grab it.” He disappeared before Brendon could answer so Brendon stood by and stared at the door, anticipating, until Dallon returned with a shadow box in hand. Brendon’s eyebrows climbed his forehead when he realized. “It’s, uh. The rose I gave you on our first date. Kara kept it and gave it to me and I thought this would be a good reminder of how innocent we were once. You and I.” His voice came out quiet and Brendon stared at the rose, wilted now but still somehow as beautiful as he had remembered it back then. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at it, and Dallon added, “Sorry, this is the dorkiest thing in the world.”

“No, I love this, Dallon.” Brendon laughed, holding it to his heart and wrapping one arm around Dallon’s neck. “This is so thoughtful. You’re so good to me. Oh.” He squeezed him, burying his face deep in his shoulder. Dallon rubbed his back, smiling warmheartedly. “Come on, we should get going.” Brendon added, going to set his gift on the dresser but letting his hand linger. Dallon watched it, the adoration in his eyes, the way he could feel it radiating off of him, and Brendon took his hand, pulling him to the door.

Dallon smiled after him, looking forward to seeing Brendon shine.

* * *

People trickled into the building and music played loudly as Dallon pulled into a vacant spot. Prom, just some stupid school event, all his peers, the boys that made fun of him and all the people who made him feel unsafe. But there were some good people too. He looked over at Dallon, blue eyes glistening as he anticipated the night ahead, and sometimes he forgot how wonderful things could be.

“I like the black. It’s classic.” Dallon said suddenly, playing with Brendon’s fingers on his thigh, the nails painted with smooth black polish and not yet chipped, but perfectly done like more effort had been put in than usual. Dallon knew Brendon was excited. He didn’t have to say it.

“I guess it’s just... one last rebellion, y’know? On Halloween I was trying so hard to fit in. Now I guess I just don’t care if I do or not.” He admitted, looking at the shine of the polish and half smiling. He guessed it did fit. It was just his go to color. His default. He wanted it to match.

“Well, tonight’s a perfect night to not fit in, right?” He offered, nodding his head at the building, and Brendon nodded. If there was any time to stand out, he may as well look and feel good doing it. “You ready to go in?”

“Yeah.” He unbuckled his seatbelt, pushing open the door. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Everyone was waiting for them when the approached the building, Brendon’s hand tucked safely in Dallon’s. It felt innate, at this point. Like it were just commonplace for them to be connected. When he caught his friends standing by the door he waved, grinning buoyantly and not bothering to hide his elation. Dallon followed him, knowing that he made the right choice.

“Brendon Boyd Urie!” Tyler greeted rather excitedly, grabbing Brendon by the biceps and spinning him around once with a grin, eyes bright. “Look at your little suit. Has anyone every told you how fucking gorgeous you are?”

Brendon laughed and let Tyler examine him because even he had to admit that he didn’t look horrible, hair all done up and coverup on his face and brown eyes shining. He glanced at Dallon, busy greeting his friends, and said thoughtfully with conviction, “Once or twice.”

Tyler beamed like he were in on the joke, though he was. A year and a half ago they were up in Brendon’s room, dreaming about a night like this with Dallon to escort him. He’d always thought prom cliché and never saw himself going, but he let Tyler wrap an arm around him, followed him toward the door. Looked over his shoulder and grinned because, well, they made compromises for each other. That was part of the plan.

“Hey.” Ryan greeted suddenly as Tyler slipped away from him, making Brendon turn. “You look really nice, Bren. How you doin’?”

“Oh, thank you. You do too. I’m alright. I didn’t know if I was going to come or not, but Dallon’s good at convincing me.”

“Dallon is very convincing.” Ryan agreed, turning to look at him with a half smile observationally. “You know, I was half expecting you to wear some ridiculous outfit with cats on it or something.” He admitted, hooking an arm around Brendon’s neck. Brendon laughed, he hadn’t realized that all of his friends thought his fashion ridiculous, but that was part of who he was. He was just sick of caring about that, was all. “Can you blame me?”

“No, I can’t blame you.” He wrapped an arm around his waist unhesitatingly, feeling bolder somehow. “I was about to, I promise, but-“ Ryan laughed and Brendon couldn’t finish his sentence, as they stopped mid-step to stand in the middle of the walkway laughing.

“You guys are cute.” Dallon said from behind, and Brendon turned to smile at him, not realizing he was listening. “C’mon. Hey.” He wrapped his arms around both of them, never one for school events though tonight, he was excited.

The room was decorated with lights and balloons, an archway at the door and their dancing peers. Brendon was uncomfortable immediately, so many people, he prayed no one had any alcohol, and vowed to himself not to accept any drinks unless it was from Dallon. Hesitant, he stepped over the threshold, thumping music flooding his system.

“Let’s go grab a table.” Josh pulled Tyler along with him. Brendon turned to look at Dallon with eyebrows high on his face, following as Ryan took his hand and tugged him along.

“Hey, stop stealing my date!” Dallon called, chasing after them. Brendon laughed, but reached out a hand for Dallon to join them. He wanted to have a good night. Give Dallon a good night too.

Brendon wasn’t one for dancing but he let everyone pull him onto the dance floor anyway, holding onto Dallon’s hands as he spun him around. He didn’t even really know how to dance, but he guessed he didn’t need to. The point was to have fun. He just jumped around, ignoring the people around him, and it felt so much easier to do when he was smiling.

The music blared but it wasn’t mind numbing. He liked it, actually, even though they had too many airhorns and the songs were just the shitty ones on the radio. He didn’t dance often. Alone in his room when he was happy, sometimes with Dallon in soft moments. Never in front of anybody else. But then again there was a first for everything. Dallon taught him that. Even for dancing in front of a crowd.

He was tired after a few hours of dancing. Having fun with his friends, making jokes and trying hard not to care about the people around him. They took photos, he texted them to his mom, and Dallon kissed him every few minutes just because he could. Brendon hadn’t wanted to go but he ended up having a lot of fun, actually, dancing like an idiot but laughing and smiling the whole time.

He left Dallon to dance with their friends as he escaped to get a snack, realizing that no one was at the table. Ryan was getting a drink when Brendon stepped up to him, and they exchanged smiles as Brendon found the perfect looking cookie on the tray.

“We’re just bumpin’ into each other all over the place, huh?” Ryan teased, and Brendon watched him reach out to grab a cookie too.

“Or you’re stalking me.” He accused with a smile, but with no malice. “Dallon’s right. You’re stealing his date. I’m not mad at it.” He wiggled his eyebrows at him and they grinned at each other, sharing this camaraderie they never had before, a real friendship, and it was sad that high school was ending only when he had made some real friends. “Hey, you look really nice, by the way. I like your hair curly. That natural?”

“Yeah. I straighten it a lot. Makes it easier to deal with. Thank you, though. I figured tonight would be a good night to wear it natural. You look nice too, by the way. I do think that you should have worn something more you. A dress, maybe. That would be badass.” He gestured to Brendon’s outfit; a dress would be more fitting than a tuxedo. Brendon never really fit in, anyway. He always liked to do things that weren’t the norm.

“Fuck, that would’ve been awesome. Maybe in my next life.” He shrugged, and they both laughed. He liked Ryan. He understood him a lot more over the past few months, after everything had happened.

Dallon approached them suddenly, interrupting their laughter with a soft smile and a bump of his hip against Brendon’s. “Hey, I was just gonna grab a drink. What are you talking about?”

Ryan looked between them, still grinning stupidly like it were funnier than it was. “I was telling Brendon that his real last act of rebellion could have been wearing a dress tonight.”

Dallon raised his eyebrows in amusement, looking over Brendon’s smiling face. “I second that. You’d look hot in a dress. You’ve got the hips for it. Are the cookies any good?”

“Yes, surprisingly. I wasn’t expecting actual good cookies. That doesn’t happen often. School events, good cookies. They’re mutually exclusive.”

“I think prom’s different.” He figured, reaching out to grab one. He split it in half and handed the other half to Ryan, seeing as Brendon had one already, and broke off a piece to pop in his mouth. “So, Tyler and Josh were making me dance and now I’m sweaty and gross and seeking refuge. I see someone smiling so I assume I did good?”

“Yes, baby, you did good. I hate to admit it, but...” Brendon wrapped an arm around him, giving him the benefit of the doubt. He hadn’t wanted to come tonight, but he was glad that he did. He deserved this time. This last night with his friends and the people he’d never see again. Dallon beamed with pride in himself, though inviting your boyfriend of over a year to prom was hardly an accomplishment. Brendon let him have it, though, and only rubbed his back lovingly as he bent down to kiss the top of his head.

A slow song came on next and Brendon went to grab another cookie. “Hey, Bren, can I steal him?” Ryan asked, extending a hand for Dallon to take without a response.

“Uh-huh.” Brendon agreed, nibbling on his cookie, and Dallon turned to give him a look before he took his hand and pulled him away from the sidelines, their hideaway, to the dance floor where everyone could see them if they bothered to look.

“What are we doing?” He asked warily, knowing that everyone seemed to be watching him.

“We’re dancing.” Ryan said like it were obvious, pulling him in and wrapping both arms around his neck. Dallon half smiled, let him guide him toward the dance floor, never expected him to ask because he was never one for dancing anyway. “I’ve never danced with a boy before. You lead. You’re taller.”

“By an inch.” Dallon figured, but complied anyway.

Ryan looked him over for a second, studying him, and it felt intimidating to be watched as Dallon didn’t know what to say. He used to stare in his eyes all the time and now he felt like maybe he shouldn’t, like he still had to apologize years later because he had so much to make up for. “You doin’ better?” Ryan asked lightly, brushing a few fingers against the back of his neck.

“The past few days, yeah.” He nodded, and flexed his fingers on his waist. “What about you? Are you okay? I feel like we haven’t talked much lately.”

Ryan shrugged. “Oh, I’m okay. And you’ve been busy. Making plans to move in with your boyfriend, and whatnot. Being an adult.”

“It’s an improvement from who I used to be, anyway.” He figured, and Ryan smiled at him, reminiscing as if it wasn’t such a violent thought. That he’d smothered the old him to let the new one thrive. “Or at least I like to think so. I’m not as bad of a person now.”

“You were never a bad person. You just went through a lot and took it out on the wrong people.” Ryan disagreed, but Dallon didn’t see much of a difference. “But I agree that you’re a lot better now. I’m proud of you for that.”

“Thanks.” Dallon said quietly, never really knowing how to say it, and this time his eyes didn’t stray as they examined brown ones he’d grown up trying to figure out. “Ryan.” He added, and it came out in a hesitant squeak. “If you like boys... is there a reason, that, y’know, you didn’t like me? For my own peace of mind.”

Ryan sighed, ducking his head because suddenly he could see the confrontation in his eyes. “Dallon.”

“Please.” Dallon pleaded, more honest than patronizing, and Ryan looked up again. Studied his face for any malice but there wasn’t any. Dallon was just curious. He had been wondering for months now.

“I did.” He admitted finally, and could feel Dallon’s shoulders tense up under his hands before he could make the words sound less like a guilty admission or rejection of some sort. “I did, Dallon, of course I did. But I was confused, and I was scared, and I didn’t want to hurt our friendship. I just let it get too far because I didn’t want you to hate me. Because I thought you would stop being so sad if we were together. I liked you too, but I didn’t want to. You’ve been in my life for years— longer than anybody else. You're family, you know? It felt like too much was at stake. I loved you too much to let something like that ruin us. Because it never would have worked, Dallon, we were just babies. We weren’t ready to be in a relationship. Especially not with each other. And I’m sorry that I couldn’t be what you needed.”

“No, I’m sorry!” He refuted. Ryan never had to apologize. Dallon had just spent years blaming him before he admitted that it took two. “I ruined two years of our friendship because I was stupid and selfish and petty. I never wanted to do that to you. Or us.” Dallon looked down at their feet, bumping the toe of his right shoe against Ryan’s left. “I felt like I was alone and I thought having a boyfriend would make me feel better. I didn’t realize that having you in any regard made me not alone.”

Ryan started to shake his head. “You didn’t ruin it. I had a hand in that too.”

“Come on.” Dallon retorted.

“I used you, Dal.” Ryan admitted suddenly, shrugging sheepishly, and Dallon looked up to meet his eyes in shock; he never thought he would admit it. “Because I didn’t know how I felt so I let you get your way. I thought that if I was gonna like boys, it was gonna be you. And maybe it could have been, I don’t know, but I shouldn’t have experimented with you back when I wasn’t sure. That’s not okay.”

Dallon shook his head minutely, that was years ago, years of figuring things out they hadn’t known then. He couldn’t let himself be mad at that. He couldn’t resort to that again. This was just all out of curiosity. Their entire relationship had always been as such. “I was hard to deal with, though. You told me a million times it wasn’t a good idea and I just hated you for it, Ryan. I was a bad friend. You shouldn’t have led me on but I shouldn’t have given you a reason to.”

His fingers brushed the tips of his hair unintentionally. “I just thought that if I kept trying then maybe I would realize that I felt the same about you. Because you’re the most important person in my life, Dallon, but...”

“You didn’t see me that way. I understand.” He found the words Ryan couldn’t, not hurt like he had been once. Just brutally honest. One of them had to say it.

“I liked what we had, Dallon.” He admitted, and Dallon nodded softly, because before the toxicity, he did too. “But I wasn’t going to ruin our friendship to hook up with you because you’re way too important to me.”

“I know. I just had this ideal in my head. I mean... you told me that you wanted to sleep with me. They weren’t mixed signals, Ryan. They were perfectly clear to me.”

Ryan exhaled shakily, hoping he wouldn’t bring it up. “I know.” He recalled, all too clear. “I know, and I’m sorry. I never should have told you that.”

Dallon looked down at him hopefully nonetheless, still remembering the way he felt when he said it back then. “But it was true...?”

“Of course it was true, Dallon.” He said like Dallon should have known, but then again nothing between them had ever been clear. “You and I...” He sighed, and moved his hand gently to graze his shoulder. “It couldn’t have worked. I was in denial. I was scared. And I didn’t want to ruin us. You’re my best friend. I was stupid attracted to you but I’m not stupid. Like I said, experimenting with you was good. But I was fifteen. I was hurt. And I wanted to keep my best friend more than I wanted to have impulsive sex because of dumb teenage hormones. We should have never let it get that far to begin with. I used you and I’m sorry. That was my fault. I should have explained myself instead of pushing you away.”

“Maybe you could have handled it better.” Dallon admitted and Ryan laughed, nodding in agreement because once upon a time they were both fifteen, uselessly fighting as words couldn’t make sense of what was happening. “But I could have been more understanding.”

“It doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” Ryan added as a second thought, though it never had been.

“I know.” Dallon nodded, and he did.

Ryan let out a huff like it were final. “Let’s just make a deal. Let’s not fight over stupid things. And be honest with each other, and support each other, and keep talking things out because I like this more than fighting. Deal?”

“Yeah. Deal.” Dallon linked their pinkies together and smiled as Ryan rested their hands on Dallon’s shoulder, softhearted and gentle.

“Okay.” He whispered, and moved in closer to lean his head on Dallon’s shoulder. Dallon closed his eyes, tilting his head against Ryan’s, feeling him sway against him and wondering how different things could have been. And it would be good to know for another life, maybe, but the past was in the past. Brendon was it. He didn’t need anything more than that anymore. “Hey, Dal?” Ryan peeped, and Dallon nodded his head just the slightest. “Did you really think you were in love with me?”

“I was in love with you, Ryan.” Dallon said incredulously, and Ryan pulled away to look at him, eyes wide and soft like he hadn’t known. And Dallon wasn’t sure if he thought he was bluffing, or if he just really never believed it, or if it had slipped Dallon’s mind to tell him, but he swore he did. You didn’t act the way Dallon did if you weren’t in love with a person. “Wow. You really didn’t know?”

“I just thought it was a dumb crush.” Ryan admitted, as if he’d never taken it so seriously. And maybe he hadn’t, maybe Dallon always thought it was more. But of course he did. That was who Dallon was.

“It was. But it was so much more than that too.” He said, but it came out in a whisper. He thought Ryan had known. He felt like the whole world had to have known. He all but screamed it from the rooftops. “I remember the day I realized.”

Ryan moved under his touch, looking at him curiously. “Yeah?” He asked, but wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted to know.

“Yeah. It’s really cliché. Hear me out. It was at my father’s funeral.” He pulled away just a bit, and Ryan seemed as if he had forgotten they were dancing. “And I was crying in the bathroom because I didn’t want my mom to see me. I hate crying in front of people. But not you. Never you. I always trusted you like that. You were the only exception. I was trying to fix the cuffs on my suit and you helped me, and I asked about the fancy bathroom in the funeral hall and you laughed despite everything. And it was my father’s funeral. He was like a father to you too. But you were strong. You’ve always been so fucking strong. Even though I knew who you really were.”

Ryan searched his eyes doubtfully; he never saw himself as strong. “Just pretending.”

“But your confidence.” He sighed wistfully, it still got to him sometimes. “I loved your confidence. That you made it feel okay. For a split second I felt okay. And then I cried. And you promised everything would be fine. You held me, Ryan. I think in that moment I realized I just wanted to be held forever. I felt safe with you. Like home. I never realized that was just because I had grown up with you. Because it’s easy to fall for someone who’s been there for you every single day of your life.”

“But eventually you realize that you have to stop being held to go out in the real world. That you have to leave home.” Ryan said quietly, the words getting caught in his throat. “You lived in a fantasy. You were so good at that.”

“And it was the most beautiful fantasy, to me, until I realized that they’re called fantasies for a reason.” He rocked him back and forth, searching his eyes and thinking back to when they made butterflies rise in his stomach. “I would have given you the world if you’d let me.”

Ryan’s eyes were solid as he nodded, like he knew it to be true. Dallon Weekes was the kind of boy to give the world to other boys because he loved them. Ryan Ross just wasn’t the type of boy to accept that. That was the thing about Brendon Urie. He had so much love inside of him that he didn’t know what to do.

“But there’s Brendon.” Ryan said, voice stoic.

“There’s Brendon.” Dallon repeated, letting it sink deep in his stomach and burst. There was Brendon. That meant so much more than it ever had. “We missed our window.” He added quietly, and Ryan nodded, agreeing that there was a window and they missed it. But. There was a window. There was a window and somehow he was glad that they closed it before it could fall shut and hurt them even worse.

“It was more of a mailbox.” Ryan corrected, and they both laughed, and Dallon didn’t feel as hopeless as he used to as Ryan’s body was warm under his fingers and he danced with him, wondering how different things could be. There was a window, but they never would have lasted. Things like that never did. “I wish things were that simple. I really do. But with our history, Dal, our childhood...”

“You were the closest thing I’ve ever had to a brother and I didn’t know how to differentiate.” Dallon suggested and Ryan nodded, brushing his fingertips against the back of his neck. “I know. Like I said, we grew up together. It’s hard to fall in love with someone you took baths with when you were a toddler.”

Ryan laughed, laughed despite himself, and Dallon found it in him to smile as they swayed. “Can I tell you something honestly, Dallon? Like, brutally honest?”

“I think we’ve established that.” Dallon whispered.

Ryan nodded, they had, he knew that, and leaned in to rest his head against his shoulder. “I... I’ve been hurt for a really long time.” He admitted, and Dallon’s fingers felt anchored on his hips. “I was taken advantage of when I was a kid. I was twelve. And there are different sort of traumas, Dallon, you know? I don’t understand yours and you don’t understand mine. But I carry it with me every day. And since then, I’ve been really messed up. Not just because of that, just... maybe it is. I don’t know. Messed up in the head. You can imagine.”

Slowly, Dallon nodded. “I can imagine.” He agreed, though he couldn’t.

“I didn’t know what love was. I still really don’t. It’s a concept that’s completely lost on me. And I wish I understood it, and I wish I knew if I could feel it, but it’s not simple. It never has been. So when you liked me, I just... I didn’t need that. I never needed romantic love. I think that’s where we differed in our trauma. I never needed romantic love and you did. I needed my best friend who held me when I cried the night after it happened. I needed the best friend that I healed with, and played Mario Kart with in my parents’ basement when my dad was throwing beer bottles at the wall because you were the only one to cheer me up. I needed our inside jokes and the staying up late to binge watch old Disney shows and you teaching me how to play checkers after the hospital. I needed you to be my best friend because I didn’t know if, after what happened to me, I could be able to love.”

He shook his head gently, speechless. “Ryan...”

“You were all I ever had.” He continued. “I couldn’t lose you to falling in love with you. I didn’t believe in love. I didn’t think it was real. I didn’t want to ruin us with something I wasn’t even sure really existed.”

Dallon sniffled, and wiped his cheeks off when he’d realized he’d been crying. “I’m sorry I fell in love with you and tried so hard to make you love me back.”

“I’m sorry I don’t know how to love you right. I just think you deserve better than what I could have offered you. You are so full of love, Dallon. I’m not. I’m not at all. And I’m trying to learn how to be but it’s not that easy. I want you to pour that love into someone who deserves it. You deserve to love hard. You need to need someone that needs you back.”

“I know. I am. I do. I promise.” He said, and he was, and he glanced in the direction of a quiet Brendon sitting at their table in the corner. “I’m still sorry, though.”

“You have redeemed yourself a million times since then.” Ryan promised, and pulled him into a hug this time as the song came to an end, and a more upbeat one began. “I love you as much as I know how, Dallon.”

“I know you do.” He linked his pinky with his, because he did. He just hadn’t realized it in a really long time. Ryan had been thinking it every day since he had forgiven him.

“Okay.” Ryan sighed in relief, sliding a hand up the side of Dallon’s neck. “Now that that’s over, as my best friend you’re sworn to honesty. So can I ask you something pathetic?” He asked hesitantly and Dallon nodded, tilting his head gently as the other gnawed at his bottom lip. “Do you think he would like me?”

“Who? Dan? Ryan, come on. Look at you.” He retorted, and Ryan smiled, reluctant to believe it though Dallon had never been one to censor himself, anyway. “Hey, I mean, I’m picky and I liked you. That makes you pretty special.” He nodded his head, smiling too, and Ryan tightened his hands around his neck, eyes soft as they met Dallon’s under flashing lights. “Go for it.”

Ryan looked hopeful when he searched his eyes. “Should I?”

“I mean, I might be biased, but I think anybody would be crazy not to like you.”

Ryan smiled softly, eyes warm as he tried to remember why he had been mad at Dallon once upon a time. How this was even the same Dallon. “You’re my favorite person.” He said quietly, more grateful than he knew.

“I know.” Dallon smiled at him, knew he wasn’t lying, and squeezed his side gently. “Hey, I’m gonna go get something to drink. You wanna come?”

“No, uh.” He stepped back, looking over Dallon’s shoulder at a boy who was talking to his friends, suddenly determined like this were a high school cliché. “I think I’m gonna go pursue a guy who may or may not even know I exist.”

It would have killed him back then. Maybe it still did. But he had someone now. Now it was just nostalgia. “I fully support that decision.” He said, and whether or not it was a lie, he just wanted him to be happy. That was all he ever really wanted for him.

“Thank you, Dallon.” Ryan rested a hand on his shoulder and pressed a kiss to his cheek before he disappeared into the crowd of people. Dallon watched him weave through his peers, trying out the temerity Dallon had taught him once upon a time, and turned to retreat back to his person.

Brendon watched like he were a million miles away, the flashing lights, dancing people, listening to the sound of the music thumping as he tapped the toe of his shoe against the floor. He glanced up to see Dallon placing a cup of red liquid in front of him, smiling a little brighter tonight. “I tried some, there’s no alcohol in it, and it’s not overly sugary.”

“Damn. I should’ve brought my own sugar to dump into this.” Brendon quipped, quirking an eyebrow to say thanks before he took a sip. “Come sit with me, sunshine.” Dallon did as told, taking a silent seat beside him as Brendon toed off his shoes— they were starting to hurt, anyway— and kicked at Dallon’s foot. “In case I didn’t tell you tonight, you take my breath away.”

“In case I didn’t tell you, I appreciate you. More than you know.” Dallon told him in return, watching Brendon’s fingertip touch the rim of his cup. “I can see you taking everything in. Anything shocking?”

“No. Well, not really. A couple of people too close for comfort and I think I saw a girl trying to sneak some guy into the faculty bathroom but maybe I’m just perceiving things that way because I’m feeling romantic tonight.” He reached out a hand like a princess and Dallon took it gently like his prince. “Did you talk to Ryan?” He asked, though he knew, had seen them dancing on the edge of the dance floor while he picked at his cookies, not minding being alone for a song or two. Just taking it all in.

“Mhm. Trying to tie up loose ends. That’s easier to do when you’re not at war with each other. The difference between my freshman and senior years is astonishing sometimes.” He took a sip of his own drink and Brendon nodded in agreement. He and Tyler never fought, out of Brendon’s fear and Tyler’s of pushing it too far, but then again he and Dallon were different people. Dallon was angry and Brendon was just scared. There was a lot of dichotomy between the two. “I told him to go for it with Dan.”

Brendon looked over at him, searching his face for any sign of conflict. “That was sweet of you.” He said cautiously, wondering if there was some sort of catch.

“I learned a lot about time in the past four years. I think life’s too short to not go after the things you want.” He shrugged, and turned to look over his shoulder at Ryan talking to the boy across the room. “I tried. It didn’t work out. I can’t say I didn’t do everything I could to try and make it. Now I just want to move on.” He looked back at Brendon, something unreadable in his eye. “Besides, sometimes that leads you to something better.” Brendon smiled; he couldn’t argue with him there. “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m a little anxious, being around people, but I’m okay. Really.” He bumped his foot against Dallon’s under the table. “I think it’s nice that we got to do this together. It’s really cliché, but sometimes when I do things that I know are unorthodox I like to think about what would happen if things were different. I mean, in some countries people get killed or tortured for being gay. And years ago there was so much more homophobia than there is now. A few decades ago we wouldn’t have been able to kiss or hold hands or hug in public, let alone go to prom together. So I don’t like to let myself feel weird about the PDA and how open our relationship is to everybody because I know it’s something to celebrate. I might get bullied and ostracized and pointed at for being different but it could be worse. I could be getting murdered for it. And so I’m just thankful that I’m here now. Born at the right place at the right time, at least because it got me us.”

“That’s a really nice way to see things.” Dallon mused, amazed at how his mind worked sometimes. How he tried to find the silver lining now in a way he didn’t before. It was progress, Dallon noticed, as he watched Brendon take a sip of shitty school punch from the tiny plastic cup. It was progress and that meant something. “Hey, come dance with me, Urie.”

Brendon smiled incredulously with doubt clear on his face, looking up at the lights flashing and people moving to the rhythm of the song. “It’s not a slow song.” Brendon said in lieu of a yes and Dallon tsked, getting up again and reaching out for Brendon’s hand in the form of an invitation.

“Gay men couldn’t dance to fast or slow songs. Take advantage of the fact that you can, whether it’s the norm or not.” He contended, pulling him up and toward the dance floor.

“I don’t dance in front of people.” Brendon added quietly, his hesitance obvious, as he tugged at Dallon’s tie just to have something to do with his hands.

Dallon slid a hand up his arm, tangled his fingers with Brendon’s messily painted ones, already chipped and smudged in some places because he had insisted on doing it himself, without his sisters’ help. Because it felt like a milestone, tonight. “Why’s that?”

Brendon shook his head and looked away, suddenly embarrassed. Watching his pale pink socks dangle awkwardly just above the ground. “Cause I’m still scared of what they think. I know it’s dumb, but...”

Dallon tsked like it were the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard, because it was prom, and everyone was dancing. Everyone was dancing, the music was loud, the lights were down, and after everything, Brendon deserved a night off from caring. “Come on. You’ve been ridiculed enough, Brendon Urie. And you’ve made it through all of it. So dance. It’s one last act of rebellion.”

Brendon stared at him for a second, watched the lights flash on his face, colored now, so beautifully complementary with the blue of his eyes. Silently he stood up, smiling reluctantly, and Dallon took his hand, slipped off his shoes and pulled him close. “You’re a dork.” Brendon told him, but black socks nudged pink ones and he twisted him so smoothly he almost slipped.

“And you’re beautiful, kitten.” Dallon whispered, taking the smallest bite from his lips before smiling back and holding him close. “Thanks for being here tonight, Brendon.”

“You too.” Brendon rested his head on Dallon’s shoulder, tugging at his tie. “Not just tonight. Always. You’re always here for me. I love that about you.” He listened to the beat of Dallon’s heart. “I’m having fun. I didn’t think I would. But aside from you forcing me to dance, it’s really not that bad.”

Dallon tsked, and Brendon giggled like a child against his chest. “I am not forcing you.”

“You’re totally forcing me.” He pulled away, touching his face with adoration. Dallon could force him to dance all he wanted. Dallon could do anything as long as he made Brendon feel this way. “Hey, I love you. I know I say it a lot but it’s true.”

Dallon made a noise of amusement, always fond of Brendon’s affinity toward him. “I know. I love you too. I don’t say it enough.” He pinched his side and Brendon grinned up at him, tilting his chin up to coerce him into a kiss. “C’mon, Urie.” Dallon added, leaving a smile when he kissed him. “Dance with me. Like you mean it.”

He spun him and Brendon laughed, almost slipping but catching himself and going to wrap an arm around Dallon’s neck. “Fine. Okay. Let’s dance, Dal.”

“What do you think we were doing?” He teased, and Brendon kneed him in the side, but his face hurt from smiling.

* * *

It was pushing midnight when the lights went on. People fled the building as prom came to an end, and Brendon held Dallon’s hand tight as they headed to his car. “You wanna go get pancakes?” Dallon asked casually, swinging their hands between them.

Brendon nodded, turning to look for their friends. “We should get them, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll text Ryan. I don’t know where he went. Wanna grab Ty and Josh?” Brendon nodded, only parting from him to grab their friends by the front door. Dallon climbed into the front seat, peering over the top of the car until Brendon returned, Tyler and Josh following close behind.

Dallon: come get pancakes with us

Ryan: wya

Dallon: in the parking lot where do you think I am

Ryan: I’m gonna smack you

Ryan: I’m on my way :)

Dallon smiled to himself and locked his phone, slipping into his seat as Brendon bolted to the passenger side. He giggled when Dallon gave him a look, too happy to care, and leaned back in his seat. He looked behind him as their friends climbed into the back, grinning in a hello. “You guys want pancakes?” Dallon asked, and everybody said yes in unison, closing their doors and squeezing in. “Alright. Bren, choose a place that has pancakes and put it in my phone’s GPS. Let’s do it, boys.” He stuck the key in the ignition, smiling in his rearview mirror.

* * *

Dallon brushed a lock of hair out of Brendon’s face that evening as they lay in bed and smiled when Brendon’s eyes met his fondly, a warm exchange until Brendon sighed and let his eyes slip shut. He was quiet for a second, thinking, and Dallon stroked his cheek with his index finger knuckle to get his attention. “What?” He asked, voice gentle.

Brendon shook his head pensively, but his eyes remained closed. Quietly, he spoke upward, to the stars, and Dallon hung on to the feeling of his breath. “I didn’t wanna go to prom. I thought it would be stupid and hard to be around all those people but it really wasn’t bad at all. Actually, I had fun. I was a little anxious and everything, but I got to dance with you and our friends and I just... I really fucking love you. I know I say it a lot but it’s true, y’know? You changed my life and now in a few weeks we’re gonna be moving in together. I’m gonna miss being home and everything but like... God, I’m so excited to live with you.”

“I’m excited to live with you too, Bren.” Dallon whispered, and it felt so surreal. Living together. In sin, as some would say, but if this was sinful then Brendon didn’t want to be a saint. “I can’t believe I’m gonna get to wake up to you every day. I think adjusting to college next year will be easier if we’re together, you know?” Dallon watched the way Brendon spoke to the ceiling with his eyes closed: intricate, like he were completely at peace. Just like he was so rarely that it stood out when it happened. Just like that one morning way back when, before Dallon asked if he was okay, before he admitted to his anxiety that he had neglected for so long until it materialized itself and claimed a label. It felt like so long ago, a different lifetime. So much had changed since then.

Nodding, Brendon tugged him close to rest his head on his chest. Dallon let out a hint of a laugh and when he settled down, he could hear the faint sound of Brendon’s heartbeat in his chest. His favorite sound. The sound of him being alive. “Yeah. I’m scared, you know.”

Dallon nodded slowly. Of course he was scared. Dallon was too. Moving in together was a big step. So was college. Brendon had been putting off talking about it, worrying too much, pretending that high school wasn’t about to end and he wasn’t about to move on with his life. And Dallon, well, he just wanted to take it all in. This was the end of an era. The start of an age. “I know.”

“It’s like a different life. And it’s something you think about but don’t see coming, even then. I didn’t see you coming. And it’s hitting me now that things are changing rapidly and I have no choice but to change with them. A different life. So, so different.”

“Does that have to be a bad thing?” Dallon asked softly, eyebrows knit together and fingers twisting in worry.

Brendon let out the quietest sigh in return. No, it wasn’t a bad thing. A scary thing, but not a bad one. “I didn’t say it was.” He answered, and that was somehow all Dallon needed.

“Hm.” Dallon leaned down to rest his head on Brendon’s shoulder gently, sliding a hand up his chest. “I just... I hope I can be a home to you.” He admitted, but it sounded less of a worry and more of an inevitability.

Brendon moved a hand up to slide beneath Dallon’s head. “You already are.” He whispered, and Dallon let out this sigh of content, making himself comfortable and letting himself rest.


	68. Chapter 67: Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hehe

Brendon’s eyes fluttered open sleepily to greet a light filled room and hair in his face. Never a graceful sleeper, he reached up to push sweaty locks out of his eyes, sticking out his tongue and grimacing, how did that even happen, and only then did he register the soft body pressed against his back, curled against him with a hand pushed up under his shirt and almost above his stomach.

“You’re trying to fuck me in my sleep,” Brendon accused quietly, poking at Dallon’s hand under his shirt.

Dallon laughed lazily, eyes still closed but smiling warmly as he buried his face in Brendon’s shoulder, brushing his nose against his skin over the hem of his shirt. “No I’m not. You sleep with your mouth open.”

“Hey!” Brendon turned under his arm to look at him, that sleepy smile, and Dallon grinned playfully when Brendon laughed. He only squinted his eyes open for a second, long enough to see messy brown hair and the boy he loved before he closed his eyes again and shifted his position to lay his head on Brendon’s chest. Brendon could deal with that, he thought as he brushed a few fingers through his hair. He had nowhere else to be today.

“I’m kidding, bumblebee, relax.” He hummed, and Brendon smiled up at the ceiling. “You’re the cutest sleeper.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, but thanks anyway.” They both laughed, and Brendon continued to card his fingers through feathery hair. Wondered how long it had been since he fell in love with Dallon, the exact moment his heart knew it, because he’d felt it a million times but he could never tell himself. Brendon reached down to trace the skin on his cheek and Dallon tightened his grip on Brendon’s side, not bothering to move, because it didn’t feel like they were living on borrowed time anymore. It just felt like... time. So much more than they’d ever had.

“Stay here. I’ll make us breakfast.” Dallon said after a moment, and Brendon shifted off of him, only smiling when he climbed out of bed.

“Don’t poison me,” Brendon called, watching cheekily as he headed to the door.

“Don’t bet on it.” Dallon turned in the doorway only briefly. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. In the meantime, you can stay here and ponder how to tell me you have a crush on me.”

Brendon smiled warmly and ran his hands over the sheets, smooth like the way their skin felt together. How they fit like a puzzle piece, how Brendon finally felt in place after months of free falling, desperately searching for something to grasp. It turned out that Dallon’s hand had been outstretched the whole time.

“Hey, Dallon?” Brendon said right before he left. Dallon turned, and Brendon told him, “I have a crush on you.”

Dallon smiled, long and reverent like he knew something Brendon didn’t. Maybe he did. Maybe he always had. Maybe there was a world that Dallon had seen and Brendon couldn’t. And then he said, “I’m gonna keep you forever.” And he disappeared, leaving Brendon smiling at his back.

* * *

“You taste like syrup.”

Dallon pulled away only an inch and smiled, his nose brushing Brendon’s gently. “That’s hot.”

“It’s more sticky than anything.” Brendon corrected and then pulled back to smile, giggling childishly and leaning in again to catch his lips in a kiss. They couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other, kissing and laughing and taking turns pushing each other around on Dallon’s bed just for fun. Everything felt lighthearted, playful, and Brendon felt at home with him. Like this was something. A step.

“Can I tell you something stupid?” Brendon asked as they laid together in bed, alternating between kissing and talking about nothing important. Dallon nodded, tucking hair behind his ear. “I, um. I used to be obsessed with fairytales. My mom read them to me when I was little and then I became fixated on the idea that one day I would be a princess. And my mom told me I could be whatever I wanted to be. This was before I got scared of everything. And when I realized I was gay, I thought that it was such a stupid cliché, the gay boy is obsessed with fairytales, but I’m not ashamed of it. I always wanted a fairytale. I know it’s stupid and unrealistic, but-“

“You feel like you found it.” Dallon interrupted in a whisper, searching his eyes though he already knew everything in them.

He smiled sheepishly, realizing how cheesy it sounded coming from someone else. “Sorry, is that totally cliché and pathetic?”

“No.” Dallon laughed, stroking his cheek and shaking his head when Brendon grinned back at him. “No, baby, it’s not. I feel the same way.”

“You really are my fate.” Brendon whispered too, tilting his head up to kiss him. It felt like a fairytale. The two of them together. He was astounded that Dallon thought so too. It was like finding something he’d been looking for for years, but discovering that it was so much better than he could have made up. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Urie.” Dallon kissed him again, gentler this time, a brush of their lips, and-

“Hey.” Dallon’s bedroom door swung open without a knock and Brendon jumped, holding a hand over his mouth because he was conditioned to be scared every time someone walked in on he and Dallon doing something they shouldn’t have been doing. “Ew, stop. I need to talk to you. Have some decency.”

Ryan went to take a seat on the bed when they both sat up, and Dallon swung his legs over the edge. “You just walked into my house and my room without knocking, so I feel like we’re past decency.”

“Your mom let me in, and she’s the boss. So, hey, you told me that you would always be here for me to listen to anything I had to say, even if it’s weird. Can I tell you something weird that you’re probably not gonna like?” He asked before Dallon could question him, and Dallon stalled for a second, looking at him like he was trying to remember when he had made such a promise, but he had. He’d promised Ryan a lot of things when they were repairing them. He nodded, forgetting to ask if Brendon could hear it too— out of respect— and Ryan huffed, “I hooked up with Dan during prom.”

Dallon looked between he and Brendon awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say. He had avoided hearing about Ryan’s personal life for a reason. He knew what he had promised, once upon a time, but a concept was different than reality. “You mean you had friendly and enticing conversation with him.” He corrected hesitantly.

Ryan shook his head, maybe looking ashamed in himself if either of them could notice. “No, I mean we fucked in the backseat of his car before prom ended.”

Dallon stared at him for a second, speechless, and the silence was jarring until Brendon cut through it with a hiss. “Okay, I feel like this is a conversation I shouldn’t be hearing.” He said awkwardly, getting up from Dallon’s bed and resting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m gonna go make some tea. You guys want anything?”

Ryan peeked up at him. “Yes, that pill you take the day after to prevent HIV.”

“God, you’re such a baby gay.” He rolled his eyes and pat Dallon’s shoulder as if to say good luck, I’m out, and disappeared into the hallway because there were some things that should only be discussed between best friends. Brendon had had enough boy troubles of his own, anyway. He slipped into the kitchen and Dallon’s mother looked up from where she was moving a spoon around in her mug. “Hey. I’m just gonna make myself some tea.”

“Oh, I just did. I’ll refill the Keurig for you.” She went to grab a glass for the water. “What’s Ryan here for?”

Brendon shrugged, busying himself in finding a mug in the cupboard. “Boy troubles.”

Dallon’s mother stopped, turning again to look at him skeptically as she filled the glass with water. “Ryan likes boys?” She asked, though Brendon would have figured that eventually that would have come up.

“Yeah.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “Dallon didn’t tell you?”

“No, he didn’t.” She looked away, raising her brows in shock, and tapped her spoon against the mug. “Is he okay with that?”

“He has to be.” Brendon shrugged, because that was what it came down to. There was nothing he could do about it. She gave him a look, like she didn’t quite believe that, within reason because Dallon didn’t tell her everything.

“And are you okay with that?” She added, knowing he knew the history.

“Please, Dallon eats out of the palm of my hand. I’m not worried about a thing.” He looked up at her, second guessing his response and wondering if that was something he should say to the boy’s mother, but then again she and Dallon had a complicated relationship to begin with. “I trust him. I should trust him, right?”

“I think so, but I’m biased.” She shrugged, and he looked down at his mug as it filled almost to the top. He trusted Dallon. Maybe it would have been different a few months prior, all things considered, but they were stronger now. Better.

As Brendon pushed the door open Dallon looked up at him, rubbing Ryan’s shoulder. Brendon went to sit on the bed beside them, taking a sip of the warm liquid and feeling it on his tongue. Trying not to feel like a third wheel, too. “I can’t believe I did something so idiotic. I don’t fuck strangers. I’m not a slut.”

“Come on. Sleeping with him doesn’t make you a slut.”

“So what do you call fucking a stranger in a car?”

“A regular Tuesday afternoon.” Brendon said, and they both turned to look at him so he shrugged and got up, going to sit at Dallon’s desk instead because he could tell when he wasn’t welcome. “Okay, I’m sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood. We’ve never done that. Not yet, anyway.”

Ryan tsked. “No, it’s kind of uncomfortable, the seatbelt digs into your side the whole time and I hit my head on the door a bunch of times and cars are not that roomy, actually. Not the point.”

Dallon shifted uncomfortably. “I told you to go for it, Ryan. That meant asking him on a date or telling him you liked him or something.”

“I did! I told him that I liked him even though he was a bad dancer, and he laughed and thought my boldness was nice and we talked and went outside to get some fresh air because they started playing some shitty song with airhorns and we talked about music and then, y’know. Fucked in the backseat of his car.”

“We all got laid yesterday!” Brendon put his hand out and Ryan turned to give him an apathetic high five as Dallon looked up at Brendon, glaring because it probably wasn’t the right time.

“Do you just skip the awkward parts of every interaction?”

Ryan nodded, and Dallon made a face. “I don’t do causeries. I just... I’ve never slept with anyone that I wasn’t dating. That wasn’t my intention. I feel gross about it. I swore I would never do that. Hook up with someone I’m not... with. Fuck.” He covered his face with his hands. “Should I not be talking about this with you? Should I have gone to Josh? He’s just obnoxiously honest and scares me sometimes and I-“

“No, it’s okay. Uh. I just don’t know what to say. It’s not like I have any sort of experience outside of a relationship except-“ He stopped short and Brendon tensed up beside him, looking away. “That’s not what I meant.” He amended quickly.

“It’s okay.” Brendon assured him, but stood up with his mug held to his chest. He felt out of place suddenly, like he were intruding. He didn’t like feeling like he were intruding on Dallon. “I’m just gonna...” He nodded toward the door and Dallon shifted to get up, but Brendon put a hand out to stop him. “It’s okay. Talk. I’m gonna go hang out with your mom.” He waved it off and Dallon looked guilty, but Brendon slipped out of the room before he could stop him. There were just some things he didn’t feel like he needed to be a part of. Dallon and Ryan were one of those things.

“Hi, Bren.” Dallon’s mother greeted from the couch when he popped into the living room, feeling more like he could breathe out there.

“Hey. They’re having a, uh. A private conversation. Or I wanted to give them privacy, anyway. You mind some company?”

“Not at all. Take a seat.” She offered.

“Thanks.” He sat down on the other end of the couch and took a sip of his tea as she turned to look at him expectantly, having learned when he wanted to talk.

“So, can I ask you something?” He asked reluctantly, tracing the rim of his mug aimlessly. She nodded, silent as she listened. “What was Dallon like when he liked Ryan?”

“Uh, relentless.” She answered after a moment, trying to recall as she had lived through all of the versions of her son. “Yeah. He was relentless. It was a big time for him, you know? Realizing he liked boys, his father dying, so when he realized he liked Ryan I think he wanted to try and get it right because he needed something good to happen to him.”

“I understand that. I just think a lot about it ever since I found out that they used to be together. Or whatever they were.” He shifted uncomfortably, wondering briefly if he should be talking about this with Dallon’s mother.

“Look, Brendon. Don’t get me wrong: I love Ryan. He’s like a second son to me. But that’s why I never wanted that for Dallon. I think that when you have a friendship like that, it gets too complicated. They wouldn’t have lasted as a couple because they only knew how to be friends. Ryan is one of my favorite people. I’m glad he and Dallon are still close. I’m glad they resolved all the problems they had. But Ryan is meant to be in his life as a friend.”

“I agree, but I’m biased.” He laughed and she did too, resting a hand on his knee for collateral. He knew it was silly. Confiding in his boyfriend’s mother about his fear of his boyfriend’s past. It just felt nice talking to somebody who knew firsthand how complicated Dallon could really be.

“Dallon loves you. So for what it’s worth, I think that you two are gonna be better than anything else he’s had. In my opinion.”

“I appreciate it.” He smiled softly at her, grateful for her words. He felt like he got lost in his own opinions sometimes. It helped to hear it from someone who knew Dallon well and had been there with him during everything. “I love him too. And I’m not... worried. Not exactly. I get a little jealous sometimes but that’s just because I know I haven’t been here for him forever like Ryan has. But I’m not really a jealous person. I’m just glad Dallon and I have had this time together. I’m glad he wants me to live with him and wants to share his life with me. I feel so lucky.”

“I’m glad too, Brendon. You helped Dallon a lot. He started talking to you when he was starting to heal. To really make amends and everything. So it’s really important to me that you were there when you were. I’m glad you’re here for him despite the way he is sometimes.”

He nodded, pulling a knee to his chest. They were there for each other. That really did mean something, didn’t it? “Yeah. He can be a handful, but I think everything we’ve been through has made us stronger, as cliché as that is.”

“I think you’re right.” She agreed, and it was reaffirming to know he wasn’t completely alone in his thoughts. “So even if Ryan likes boys, I don’t think it changes anything. He’s a completely different person than he was when he had feelings for Ryan. It’s important to keep that in mind. He got a lot stronger and a lot kinder the year he met you. I’m glad you could be what he needed.”

Brendon was quiet for a moment as he realized his impact. Their impact on each other, really. Dallon’s mother smiled thankfully as she pat his knee, comforting in the way that mothers were. In the end, he was joining this family. The family who somehow always seemed to make him feel at home. He loved the thought of forever more and more these days.

He smiled back at her, feeling somewhat content in spite of himself. “I’m glad I could be what he needed too.”

* * *

“You’re not mad, are you?” Dallon asked quietly that evening as Brendon traced shapes into his chest. Brendon tilted his head up to look at him, tugging at the bottom hem of Dallon’s shirt curiously. “I mean, because I drop everything to talk to him sometimes?”

Brendon tilted his head to the other side idly, like he were considering it. He didn’t really know if he was, though. Was he mad? He’d been mad at Dallon before, so no. Not mad. Just inquisitive. “When someone’s been in your life as long as he has I don’t think I can let myself be mad. I just don’t want to get in the way.”

“You’re never in the way, Brendon. You’re the love of my life. But Ryan is my best friend and I can’t be the boy that ditches his friends when they need him. I just want to integrate you guys. Things never work out if the friends don’t like the boyfriend.”

“I mean in the way of your friendship.” He punched his chest playfully but it felt honest, anyway. “I do like him, Dal. We’ve become really good friends and I’m really happy we have. I want you to be able to keep your friendships the way they were before me. I think that’s the healthiest thing for us. I don’t want to be the one that makes you censor yourself or feel like you have to erase the past. You had something with him before you knew me. If you want to talk about it, with me or otherwise, then you can.”

“I just worry sometimes.” Dallon admitted, twisting Brendon’s hair in between his fingers aimlessly “That the shit I’ve done is gonna end up hurting us.”

“Maybe.” Brendon complied, thinking about it, and Dallon raised his eyebrows at him, as he said it but he didn’t really think that Brendon would agree. He didn’t know who he was kidding, though, because Brendon always seemed to fight for his side. “But probably not. Cause I love you and I don’t get jealous. Maybe a little uncomfortable, but not jealous. I have you. I know that I do.”

Dallon’s eyes softened at him and Brendon didn’t say it but he saw that love in his eyes, the gleam, the way he could see the words when he didn’t hear them. He loved that look in his eye. That was a look he wanted to capture and pin on the wall but he couldn’t because it was far too precious.

“Can I ask you something?” Brendon asked, starting to play with one of two buttons on the neckline of Dallon’s shirt. He raised his eyebrows, nodding lazily as he brushed Brendon’s hair back with his knuckle. “Does it bother you?”

Dallon’s eyes narrowed steadily, studying his face for anything underlying though it was just a question. “Would you be upset if it did?”

“No, I wouldn’t be upset. You had a life before me. There are a lot of feelings that come with that.” Brendon assured him, because he’d had months to think about it. He and Ryan. How there was something Brendon had never seen and never would, some bond that was strong enough to endure everything they put it through. Brendon was glad that Dallon had him. He wasn’t upset. He just wanted to know.

Dallon looked at him for a second before he nodded gently, never knowing whether to tell him the truth or not. “Yeah. It bothers me.” He admitted, leaning on his elbow, and Brendon shifted to look at him. “I mean, I’m nowhere near where I was with him before. And that’s a really good thing. Because things would be much worse if we were the way we were a few years ago. But sometimes it still gets to me. I know it shouldn’t, but like— when you’re fifteen, someone not liking you back hurts. Especially when you’re like me, already miserable and trying to replace this major loss. So you pair that with gay and angsty, and then I just... I resented that I wasn’t good enough and I was upset at him for it. And I’m not mad like I used to be, because I understand now why everything happened the way that it did, but I still just... it still makes me think. Why it was never me.”

“Wrong place at the wrong time.” Brendon guessed, tracing shapes mindlessly on his forearm.

“Yeah, you’re right. We could always just chalk it up to bad timing. And it’s not like I wanna go back now, because everything led to you, but I needed a win back then. I thought he’d be my win. And as we slowly mended our friendship I made my peace with that one annoying little fact that he didn’t like boys and that was why he would never really love me. In that way, I mean. And it’s just... even after all this time it’s weird to know that it was never what I thought it was. That the reason I used to cope with it wasn’t even really a reason.”

“I see what you mean.” Brendon nodded gently, and Dallon hated to explain it because it made him sound like a petty child but Brendon got it. He got it more than he knew. When you’re fifteen it feels like the world is ending every time you don’t get your way. Mourning a loss and trying to find a remedy was even harder on top of it. “You love him, huh?”

Dallon stared at him for a long second, two, three, and didn’t want to say no because it would be a lie but didn’t want to say yes because how could he have known what love was back then? And how could he have known if love was different between people? Because it wasn’t just one kind of feeling. It was a mix of chemistry. Dallon had a lot of that but it took two, and the thing was he never believed one love could be the same. Every interaction had its own twist.

“Not in the way that I love you.” He decided on saying, and Brendon’s lips tilted, almost in sympathy, as he went to thumb Dallon’s bottom lip absently.

“It’s okay. Like I said, you had a life before me.” Brendon assured him, because if he was confident in one thing it was he and Dallon. They were a lot stronger than a past flame and some loose ends. “I think that he loves you too, Dal. I really do. And I think that maybe if the timing was right then you would have been good together but the timing was never right. I’ll never know how, or why, or what made me so lucky but you and I managed to find the perfect timing.”

“Timing is a funny thing,” Dallon agreed, because he was right. Everybody went at their own pace. Dallon was lucky that he kind of knew who he was early on, but for some people it took longer. He could never blame his best friend for taking time.

“You’re a good friend, though.” Brendon added as a second thought. “That you listen to your ex talk about those things regardless of how you may or may not feel about it.”

“He’s not my ex, Bren. We were never together.” Dallon intervened, wanting to keep things straight for the clarity.

“Your ex-lover,” Brendon figured, trying to label it where it never had one.

“You are my only lover.” Dallon protested, and Brendon half smiled as he went to pin him down against the mattress. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. It’s all in the past. And I prefer to look at the future. Or the present. Here, with you.” He leaned down, dropping his voice to a whisper. “We were interrupted earlier, if I recall correctly, and we have some unfinished business.”

“Dallon.” Brendon warned with a hint of a laugh as Dallon leaned down to capture his mouth. Dallon smirked, navigating his hand in between them, and Brendon gasped at his touch, watching him move downward, and erupted into laughter when he realized. “You aren’t seriously going to give me head so that you can avoid talking to me about this.”

“Watch me, Urie.” Dallon whispered, and kissed underneath his chin before he moved down his chest, going to push down his leggings.

“You’re so...” He started, but didn’t finish because Dallon pushed up his shirt to kiss at his stomach and things didn’t really matter much, anyway. He was right. The past was in the past. It was just that everything from the past affected the future, and before he dedicated his life to this boy he had to ask questions. Make sure he knew who he was going to be living with.

Brendon reached down to tangle his fingers in the sheets with a smile, thinking about the future and accepting the past.

* * *

Arriving back to school Monday, prom was the only thing anyone could talk about. Brendon and Dallon exchanged knowing looks and just smiled like everything was an inside joke as their friends and peers spoke of the night so fondly. And it was kind of a cliché, the fairytale night they’d hold onto forever, but Brendon kind of just had fun in his own unconventional way, sitting in the corner with Dallon for most of the night, getting up to slow dance where no one would see them. His own little night to remember.

“Hi, Brendon!” Ms. Kenny greeted cheerfully when the boy slipped into her office and shut the door, crumbling up the slip in his hand. “How was your weekend? How was prom?”

“Oh, it was okay. I spent most of it in the corner talking with Dallon, but it was still fun. Cliché, but fun.” He smoothed out his hoodie and smiled. They could have done the same thing in Dallon’s room all night, talked and exchanged secretive kisses and danced alone in the dark corner, but at least he could say he went to his senior prom. His parents had photos and it made Dallon happy. If Dallon was happy, it made it all worth it.

“Good. I’m glad you had fun. I’m expecting a photo to put up on the board.” She nodded her head toward the bulletin board on the wall behind her, collaged with photos of students, and he nodded, promised he would bring one next week. “So, the semester is coming to an end, finals are soon, graduation is just around the corner.” God, she had to remind him? “Let’s talk about how your grades are going. Doing any better?”

Brendon shrugged a shoulder and leaned back in his chair. He’d seen some changes since Dallon had started tutoring him, but there were just some factors that he would never find himself able to understand. Statistics was hard and he was trying, but sometimes it took more than that. More than Brendon could offer. “I think they’re better since Dallon started helping. Not by much, I’m not failing but my grade is still horrible and it never seems to go up no matter what I do. And I’m trying, really, I’ve been studying and doing practice problems but at this rate I’m never gonna get anywhere. I can’t get it. I’m too stupid to get it.”

She hummed considerably, but didn’t answer for a second. Just looked at Brendon and let him think about what he’d said, did that thing where she wanted him to predict what she was going to say. But he didn’t get the stare-down, just quirked an eyebrow at her defiantly in return, challenging her. And it prompted her to say, “I notice that you put yourself down a lot.”

Brendon looked down at his lap, suddenly embarrassed. Did he? He hadn’t noticed. “Oh. Um. I guess.”

She sighed, and he peeked back up at her. He’d never been good at prediction and she was just worried about him. Everyone was always so damn worried about him. “Brendon. We both know that you’re not very confident in yourself, but what you don’t know is that putting yourself down like that actually lowers your confidence. People gain confidence by pretending to have it. It’s a way to trick yourself into higher self-esteem.” She put her pen down. “I want to talk to you about why you feel like you need to put yourself down.”

“Okay.” He tugged at the drawstring of his hoodie, and suddenly he was a little too hot. “I guess I don’t like to talk myself up because I don’t think it’s what I deserve. I feel like I’m a failure and everything I do is wrong. So I put myself down because... I don't know. I feel like I deserve it.”

She frowned, and he was expecting that. This was why he hated telling people the truth; he just got these looks of pity, poor little Brendon, he hates himself and everyone hates him too. Well, it was true, wasn’t it? “Does anybody make you feel this way?”

He shook his head, chewing on his bottom lip. “No. Everyone supports me and tells me to stop self-deprecating but I can’t help it. I’m a creature of habit.”

“I know you are.” She huffed, and uncomfortably he glanced down at his sneakers, at the awkward laces and the scuffs on the toe of them. “You’re bright, you know. And you’re unique and you’re interesting. You may feel like a failure but I doubt others feel that way.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He thumbed at his sleeve. “I just, you know. I’ve always kind of felt like putting myself down is so much easier than getting my hopes up and thinking that something is actually going my way. I hate getting my hopes up. S’why I don’t talk highly of myself. I know I’ll screw up.” He kept his gaze down, but her eyes watched him steadily, listening carefully as he added a quiet, “I always kind of tried to hide from my own ability to do good, I think.”

“Hm.” She hummed, and Brendon glanced up at her. A fruitful smile sat on her lips and Brendon knew that look, the look she gave him when it was like she hit the psychological jackpot. “Then let’s talk about that.”

Brendon shifted in his seat, shrugged, nodded. This was more personal, a world no one had seen. One inside his mind. And it was dark in there, she’d need a flashlight, but if she really wanted to go for it then she could be his guest. “Sure. Okay. Let’s talk about it.”

* * *

Brendon was never good in school. A shit attention span mixed with a general disinterest made for a pretty shitty student, if his failing grades didn’t already make that one pretty obvious. Which was why it was strange that he’d taken up an interest in reading that psychology textbook Dallon’s mother had given him. He kind of figured it’d be a thing that he thought he wanted but pushed aside like all his old tried out hobbies that didn’t end well, but that was proven false when just a few days after prom, he was sitting in bed with the textbook open to one of the first pages. He figured he'd skip around a little, see what interested him before he organized a steady system, but for now he was just enjoying the fact that he was willingly educating himself on something, just because he wanted to.

He had homework to do, he should have been studying for finals, but this was so much more interesting. He only wished he could have gained interest in psychology sooner so he could have taken a class before college, at least then he’d be prepared. But this was good enough for now; there was a month before graduation, and he was going to spend it trying to get himself together. Besides, Dallon would help him cram for their statistics final, he’d pray that he didn’t fail and have to repeat the year, but he also had all the extra credit assignments piled on his desk, ready to be done over the course of the week.

Brendon was halfway through the third module, something about memory, when there was a knock on his bedroom door. He looked up from where he’d taken a position laying on his back with the book sitting upright on his chest and called for whoever it was to come in, and a smiling Dallon pushed open the door. “Hi, cutie. What are you doing?”

“Reading about cognition and whatnot. I fucking love this thing.” He sat up and closed the textbook, patting the bed to tell him to sit down. “Hi. Whatcha doin’ here? I thought you were working today.”

“Yeah, I just got out. I wanted to work on that stats homework with you. I figured you haven’t done it yet.” He placed his bag next to the textbook and smiled up at Brendon amicably, but Brendon couldn’t help but think that Dallon knew he needed help. Knew he was going to push it aside and forget about it until the last minute, shut it out because it made his hands shake with anxiety. Because it was hard to understand and finals were coming up, and Brendon needed all the help he could get. He hated that Dallon knew that.

“You figured correctly. And that’s probably a good idea. Maybe I should put this thing on hold while I try to not fail so I don’t get kicked back and have to repeat the year because I’m too fucking dumb to pass math.”

Dallon gave him a disapproving look, and right. Okay. So Dallon hated when he put himself down. So did Ms. Kenny, they’d talked about it in their last meeting. Brendon putting himself down was building a sense of learned helplessness; if you say you can’t do it, then you can’t. That was something she had told him came from psychology. He stopped in his seat and wondered just how many psychology terms he could relate to in his daily life. Probably a lot, seeing as he already found himself relating to what he’d learned in the only three modules he’d read.

“You’re not dumb.” Dallon insisted with a sense of hurt in his voice.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized sincerely, and Dallon looked away as he unzipped his backpack and went to work at tugging out his binder, bristling as Brendon pushed his things out of the way. “Dallon.”

“I hate that you think that of yourself.” He whispered, and Brendon tilted his head guiltily when Dallon wouldn’t meet his eye.

Brendon could think of a million reasons why Dallon wouldn’t want to hear it, embarrassment, shame, denial. But when it came down to it, Brendon knew what it was. Love. And sometimes Brendon forgot that not everybody was always pitying him. Most of the time, maybe, but not always. Not Dallon. So why couldn’t he shake the feeling of feeling like not enough?

“Dal, I’m sorry.” He repeated, and when he reached out to grab his wrist, Dallon stopped, let his eyes wander up to meet Brendon’s. Brendon wasn’t the only one, he reminded himself, who was having a hard time. “Really. I don’t need you to be mad at me too.”

Dallon shook his head, pushed his bag aside to cup Brendon’s cheek. “Who’s mad at you?”

“Me.” He admitted, and then he closed his textbook and leaned over to put it on the floor while he grabbed at his math binder instead. It was all just trivial, anyway. What else was new? “Here, come help me. I still don’t get this.”

“Brendon.” Dallon’s voice made him look up, they never managed to run circles because they always seemed to catch each other. “I love you, my boy. Baby steps.”

“Baby steps.” He repeated, materializing it, and Dallon pat his knee as he went to pull a notebook out of his backpack.

“The homework is on page four thirty-seven.” Dallon told him, and Brendon wondered if the baby steps were going to be enough in time.

He got bored a few minutes in and resorted to watching Dallon instead, the way he tilted his pencil to the side as he sketched out a graph on the graph paper in his binder, always having been more organized than Brendon when it came to math because that was something he couldn’t care less about. But his hand was steady, still, labeling the second axis, and something hurt deep down in Brendon’s stomach.

“Hey, Dal?"

Dallon didn’t look up from his graph. “Hm?”

Brendon dropped his pen and started to twist his fingers together aimlessly. "I know this is really shitty of me but, um. It just occurred to me that it's May, and I haven't really, like, checked in...? I know this month is always really hard for you and I should have made sure you were okay sooner. Are you? Okay, I mean. Like. How are you doing?”

"I'm actually really good.” Dallon admitted, smiling softly like he wasn’t expecting Brendon to remember. “I've been busy so it's kept my mind off of it. I'm still giving myself time to mourn and everything, but this year... I feel a lot better. I'm an adult and I feel like I'm at this new stage in my life where I handle things maturely. I don't wanna be the person that I was last year. It was a really bad start to our relationship. But I'm feeling better. Talking about it in therapy. And I actually had a doctor's appointment the other day and we talked about my meds and I'm trying something new. A different dosage. It should help with my creativity but make me happier. But lately... lately I've been good. I'm starting to find peace and I think that's really good for me."

Brendon smiled warmly at the news. A year ago he was laying awake in tears worried about Dallon’s mental health, and now the tables were turned. But like Dallon, he was slowly getting better, and all those nights laying awake just seemed so trivial. In their own ways, they’d learned how to recover. "Good. I mean, you should take all the time you need to feel okay, but I can tell that you're doing a lot better than you were last May. I'm proud of you."

Dallon gave him a look like that meant more to him than anything, and it did. Brendon’s pride, something valued in their mutual remedying. Respect and pride and support. Brendon respected him, supported him, was proud of him. He was so proud. "Thank you. I'm proud of me too. And I'm proud of you. I think these past couple of weeks, you've been doing pretty well. I know it's still hard but you'll get there. I will too.” He reached out to place a hand on his ankle, moving his thumb in circular motions. “And actually, um, I booked an appointment on the nineteenth for us to see the apartment we might be sharing together. I figured you might wanna see it before you decide whether or not you wanna move in with me."

Brendon could feel something tighten in his chest. He paused. "The nineteenth...?”

Dallon nodded solemnly, and they both knew what it was. "I did it on purpose. I'm gonna need that strength to be able to let myself make such a big change, you know? Deciding to move into my own apartment is like, a really big deal. I want to know that I'm in good hands. My dad will be there with me, even if it's just in spirit."

There was a reason Brendon was proud. There was a reason that he was prouder of Dallon than he’d ever been in his entire life. He smiled, pulled him into a hug, and inhaled deep. It was coming closer, and Brendon was starting to look around his room and decide what he wanted in he and Dallon’s home if he were to say yes. He could probably do without a lot of it, things from his childhood that would be waiting for him when he took his breaks from work upstairs, because some things never changed. It was getting closer, and it was becoming realer.

“I’m still considering. I’m still scared. Just cause I have so much to lose.” He rested a hand on his shoulder, smiling warmly. “But we’ve come a long way, so.”

“Yeah, we have.” Dallon agreed, and Brendon had a feeling that his answer was going to be yes.

* * *

Brendon laid beside Dallon in bed, staring at the ceiling in thought as Dallon wrote something in that notebook he always had. Brendon didn’t bother asking what he was doing; if he wanted to live with him, he needed to learn to give him some privacy.

Coincidentally, that was what he was thinking so hard about. Their life together, or a life that could be, anyway. All the things he didn’t know about Dallon, all the things he wanted to know, and how hard Dallon tried to hide it. Brendon didn’t want them to hide from each other. Didn’t want to hide parts of their lives that made up who they were. He needed to know that if he was going to spend his life with him, then Dallon was completely dedicated to him and only him.

“Can you tell me about Ryan?” Brendon asked suddenly, and Dallon looked up to meet curious eyes, the ones that liked to search everywhere for whatever they could find. “Like, your relationship with him. I know I shouldn’t ask, I know it’s weird, but I wanna know.”

“Why are you wondering?” Dallon asked, not defensive, just intrigued. He hadn’t realized how often he thought about it. He and Ryan. He’d said once that he wasn’t jealous, but then again Brendon was curious. He always had been.

“I just... I think a lot about you guys.” He admitted. Dallon brushed his hair back, watching his eyes carefully for a sign of a warning. “About your past. How you felt about him. I know it doesn’t matter now, and we’re secure, but I still wonder. You know, if things would be different if I weren’t here.”

“And you say it doesn’t bother you.” Dallon mused, and Brendon shoved his shoulder but knew he didn’t mean any harm. He knew he asked too much sometimes. It was just who he was.

“Seriously. I just wanna hear more. Tell me about it. You and him.”

“I don’t know where to start.” Dallon admitted; Brendon wasn’t sure whether that meant there was too much to tell or not enough.

“Ryan said there were times you came close to having sex.” Brendon offered, trying to sound as if he wasn’t bothered by it. The idea of his lover with someone else.

“Yeah. Uh. Grinding, sometimes until we came, making out, mostly. Sometimes not, like. Fully dressed. We’ve done... a lot. Never sex. Just— a lot of things close to it. I almost gave him a handjob once. My mom walked in before I did anything.”

Something in Brendon’s stomach turned. The thought of Dallon with someone else. Anyone else. “That must have been awkward.” He thought out loud, not adding that the picture of him with another boy made him want to puke.

“Yeah. Everything with him was awkward. Good, for a little while, for a minute, but awkward.” He leaned down to press a kiss to his lips as if in apology. But Brendon asked. He wasn’t allowed to be upset. “Back then I was upset. You know, that it never became what I wanted it to be. But I’m glad it didn’t. I’m glad I never slept with him because I don’t know if we could have returned from that. We were too fragile.”

“But at the time you would have? Despite your religion and how you feel about having sex before marriage?”

“Yeah. I mean, you know, I always told myself I would only be intimate with somebody I have plans to marry. With him it was different; that was more for comfort. But I did love him. I just knew deep down that we weren’t going to end up together.”

“Do you still love him?” Brendon asked gently, not because he was worried but because he was curious. He could see it in the way Dallon looked at him. How they talked. Their chemistry. He didn’t know how he hadn’t realized months before he knew.

Dallon brushed hair out of Brendon’s eye, nodding carefully. Brendon wasn’t expecting him to be so straightforward. So honest, though they’d promised each other they would be. Dallon couldn’t find it in him to lie anymore. “I think that when you love someone, Brendon, you never fall out of love with them. You just kind of... evolve, and still hold onto that feeling. Cause when you love someone you give a piece of yourself to them. That’s a piece of yourself you can’t get back. So you let them keep it. That loss becomes a part of you too. But that doesn’t always have to be a bad thing.”

“A piece that I’ll never get?” He asked, though it came out more convicting than he’d meant. But Dallon shrugged, didn’t take offense, only traced his jawline with his fingertips and hoped none of this was a deal breaker.

“Trust me, Bren. You don’t want that piece of me. You don’t want the relentless fifteen-year-old piece of me.” He brushed his thumb gently over Brendon’s cheek. “I love him. I might always love him. But I’m not the person I was then. I’m not attached to an unrequited love. I’ve grown a lot since the day that I realized that was something that had to remain in my past.”

“Wow.” Brendon searched his eyes. “I don’t know if I could be that... strong. To realize something’s wrong and let it go.”

“Sometimes you fall in love with someone just to see that they’re not what’s right for you. That was him.” He shrugged like that were it, and then again maybe it was. He didn’t need to wonder. He knew he had Dallon. His love and his undivided attention. He didn’t feel the need to compete with that. “Listen. There are different phases in our lives. That was one. This is another. They’re separate from each other. And Ryan was a big part of that one phase. You’re a big part of this one.” He brushed his cheek with his index finger knuckle. “You’re the first boy who has ever loved me back. That means more than any other first to me.”

He smiled up at him cheekily and kissed him when Dallon’s eyes softened. “Then that’s all I need to hear.” He decided, and it felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.


	69. Chapter 68: A Toy Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet another past chapter you should simply not expect anything else of me

Dallon sat on Ryan’s bed, staring down at his red hands after having dug his nails so deep in them that they left marks. They were in the throes of summer, at least that was what it felt like, as Dallon tried to adapt to the world again after a long month. A month, and it was all he could think about, his absence, the way his words echoed on apartment walls because it was so empty now. So emotionless. He felt that way in his chest too. Empty.

“Do you think I should enlist, Ryan?” Dallon asked quietly, his voice cutting through thick silence as Ryan looked up at him from across the room. Across the room, but he could feel his anxiety, the way his eyebrows furrowed in distress and he shifted to sit up in his chair.

“In the army?” He clarified, and Dallon nodded, ignored how scary it sounded out loud when he said it. “No, Dallon, I don’t think you should do that.”

“Why not?” He asked, but it sounded more like begging, so sick of being told he was wrong. He wasn’t. He just wanted to do something to help himself. Or rather, do something to help everybody else so that he didn’t have to think about him anymore. “Why not, Ryan?”

“Why would you?” Ryan snapped back.

“I don’t know!” He admitted, and Ryan stared at him wordlessly. “Because I have nothing better to do. Because I’m tired, and I need something to whip me into shape. Make me a better man. And maybe I should be— saving lives, or whatever. I need to find a purpose. What if something straight and narrow is my purpose?”

“You don’t believe in war, Dallon. You have been saying that since the day we learned about it in school. What a shitty soldier you would be. You can’t even swat a mosquito without feeling bad about it. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not going to join the army. Or the navy, or the marines, or the air force, or the fucking coast guard, Dallon, you’re not.”

Tears welled up in his eyes as he glared back at him. He just wanted to find the right thing to do. “Who are you to tell me what to do with my future?!”

“You wouldn’t have a future, Dallon! I’m not letting you kill yourself that way!”

Dallon stopped short as he opened his mouth to protest, letting his shoulders fall pathetically. Accidentally letting his armor down, so maybe he would make a terrible soldier. “What?” He asked, voice quiet and full of fear.

“Come on, Dallon. Don’t you think I know what you’re doing? You enlist, okay. But you’ve got a few years before you even have to think about it. There’s your first flaw. So you get drafted, and you go to war. You say you want to try and find your purpose but going halfway across the world to fight wars you probably don’t even understand isn’t you. It will never be you. And you’ll know that, and they’ll all know that, but you’ll stay, and you’ll pray to your God that you visit every Sunday that no one will call you out. Your God in your church that’s like your second home because you’re a good boy, Dallon. Not a murderer. Not a soldier. Just a good little church boy. And you can hate me for saying it but I don’t care. I’m not letting you kill yourself this way. Or any way.”

Dallon’s hands started to tremble, scared of the confrontation. He knew Ryan told it like it was but he knew to be careful with Dallon. They’d made a promise. But yet Dallon promised he wouldn’t do this and he broke that one, too. Conflicted, he shook his head frantically. “Ryan, I-“

“Stop. I know what you’re doing. Get someone to kill you so you don’t have to do it yourself. Go too slow on the battlefield, or don’t put on your gear, or stand there out in the open. Stand there like a toy soldier and get shot in the chest or the head or the stomach. Die a martyr so you don’t have to be a coward.” He shook his head, and Dallon’s mouth was dry. “My father went to war, Dallon. That’s why he is the way that he is. Not everybody is cut out for it. Especially not the people who go there to die so they don’t have to do the dirty work themselves.”

Dallon stared at him wordlessly as all ability to speak dissipated. Ryan knew him too well. That was starting to get scary. Maybe he should have known not to ask him. Ryan would never sustain a lie. “I just—“ He stopped, cleared his throat of the tears in it. “I just need to fix myself.”

Something in Ryan’s eyes softened and Dallon looked away, not daring to look at him in the wake of a confession. “You’re really hurt, aren’t you?” He asked, apology in his voice, like he hadn’t realized it. How hard it was to bear a loss on your shoulders.

Pressing his lips together in a line Dallon nodded, and he told himself he was going to stop crying in front of everyone but suddenly it wasn’t that simple. He forgot every promise he’d made to himself because it didn’t matter anymore. Ryan sighed, getting up from his desk to join Dallon, and Dallon took in a shuddering breath, letting Ryan envelop him in a hug.

“I’m just trying to find something to make it better.” He cried.

“I know.” He assured in a whisper, squeezing his shoulders hard. “I know, Dal. But you’ve got enough internal war going on. You don’t need any external war to go along with it.” Dallon laughed despite himself and Ryan rubbed his back, shaking his head. Dallon never seemed to take these things seriously. Or he took them too seriously. “You’re all I have, Dallon.” Ryan added quietly, and pulled away to look at him with desperation. “I need you, okay?”

“Okay.” Dallon cried, and Ryan swallowed tears as he hugged him again, his heart pounding. Dallon saved him a million times. He needed him. He really needed him. He didn’t realize how badly Dallon needed him too.

He shook with a sob as he shifted in Ryan’s arms, laying back against the wall as he promised silently that he had him. He did, at the time, Ryan always made sure that he did, and Dallon thought...

Well, he didn’t know what he thought.

“Can I stay?” He asked in a whisper as Ryan pressed his chest to Dallon’s back when they laid down, leaving tears on the side of his neck.

Ryan nodded, tangling their fingers together, and said, hurt, “Of course, Dal.”

Dallon nodded, sniffling, tightening his grip on his hand. Fuck. Fuck.

* * *

He stared aimlessly at the gross, soggy mess in front of him, having zoned out again until his cereal was just a colorful blend of distorted loops and now colored milk. It was too early, and his mind was hazy as he tried to make himself want to eat.

“Hey, what are you doing this weekend?” His mother asked as she stepped into the kitchen, moving like she were on fire because she never seemed to stop. He looked up at her, tapping his spoon against his bowl of fucked up cereal. “Because there’s this sale at the Fashion Show Mall and I’ve always liked their stores. I know it’s a little out of the way but I think you and I deserve to splurge, you know? You need any back to school clothes?”

“Mhm.” He hardly listened, instead stared into his cereal and tried to think of anything but what was on his mind.

“Okay. You know what? I’m gonna get you some clothes. High school is soon, and you want to make a good impression. A few things go a long way. I know how to budget. You could use some retail therapy. You're not going out with Ryan or anything, right?”

“Ah, no.” He shook his head, sitting up straight and taking a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. Ryan. God. “No, I don’t have plans with him this weekend.”

“Hm. Okay. We’ll take a little trip to the mall, then. Why aren’t you and Ryan hanging out? Get enough of each other yet?”

That was an understatement. Dallon tried to laugh but just let out a humorless huff, feeling stupid all over again. God, he was so stupid. “I’m in love with him, mom.” He admitted with no emotion in his voice, and she looked up at him with wide eyes though he didn’t even register it. He was so tired of feeling. This was just another thing to numb himself to. “I tried really hard not to be. I thought it was just a dumb little crush. But it’s been two months since I realized. And it’s all I think about.”

“Oh, Dallon.” She sighed, and without another word, circled the island to pull him into a hug.

He took in a shuddering breath, feeling so goddamn pathetic. It wasn’t fair. Ryan didn’t see it this way. Ryan was living perfectly fine not knowing how Dallon felt. He intended to keep it that way until he knew whether or not he felt the same. “And I told myself that I would never do this and now I don’t know what to do.”

“Fuck.” She swore, scratching at the back of his head. “Fuck, Dallon.”

“I know.” He cried into her shoulder; it just felt so good to finally get it out after bottling it up for weeks. He needed to talk about it. Figure it out. He didn’t know how to mind his own head. “I broke like, the biggest rule of friendship. And the biggest gay code. You don’t fall in love with your straight best friend. I couldn’t follow that one goddamn rule?!”

She shook her head as if to say I guess not, but that didn’t make him feel any better. It just reminded him how idiotic he had been. He could have prevented it. He should have. “Does he know?” She asked gently as she pulled away to look him over.

“No. I don’t know if I should ever even tell him.” He covered his face with his hands in distress. “I never meant for this to happen. I didn’t think it was even possible. Ryan and I have been friends our entire lives. Why would I ever fall for him? Why not before?” He pleaded, having asked God a million times but never having gotten an answer.

“Because this is the time in your life where you’re coming to terms with who you are.” She said simply. As if it were that easy. As if he just knew now exactly who he was supposed to be. He sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He didn’t want to come to terms with anything. He wanted to skip all that and get to the part where he was sure.

“This is so stupid.” He cleared his throat, sniffled again, pretended it never happened. Stupid. It was so stupid. Ryan was straight. Dallon was hopeless and starved. It was never going to work.

“Well, maybe a little shopping spree will help get your mind off of it, hm?” She changed the subject, seeing that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “It’ll be fun. I made a little extra this week, anyway. We can get you some school clothes, I think that-“

“I don’t wanna go to the mall, mom.” He interrupted with a sigh, and immediately he could hear his own tone, how terrible of a son he was, how terrible, but she only nodded. That was how Dallon was these days. She had gotten used to it.

God, that was so sad.

“Okay. Okay, fine. I’ll just pick some things up for you. Some cardigans. You like those.” She closed the cereal box, trying to make things sound casual. Back to normal. He looked away, down at his hands, and he felt so stupid. So out of place. Why did he have to say anything? “You know, Dals, it’s gonna be okay. Even if Ryan doesn’t feel the same way. You’ll fall in love with someone perfect for you one day.” She promised, but Dallon really doubted that. People didn’t fall in love with Dallon. People avoided him like the plague.

“Sure.” He agreed, because he didn’t know how to tell her he wasn’t planning on it.

* * *

At the end of the first week of August, Dallon got released from the hospital.

He’d gotten used to the psych ward. The way he went everywhere in his socks and the sound of people crying down the hall through the open doors. He was used to sleeping with the lights on and taking his medication in a line and spilling his guts to his assigned therapist because he really did want to get released. He couldn’t get released until he made progress.

He’d gotten used to the psych ward, which was why it was so weird for him to come home.

“Welcome home!” Ryan and Josh greeted cheerfully as he pushed the door open, presenting to him a room decorated with a few balloons and a cake on the table. Dallon just stared, setting his bags down in the foyer, skin like bruises under his eyes. Sunken in from exhaustion and skin pale from it too, his friends’ smiles deteriorating almost as fast as he did.

He didn’t bother smiling at them, because this wasn’t funny, this wasn’t what he was expecting, and instead of greeting them back he picked his bags up again and started down the hallway. They exchanged looks and Dallon’s mother seemed worried, closing the front door and going to look after him as he disappeared.

He returned without his bags and everyone watched him like a hawk. “Can I be alone for a second, please?” He asked quietly, and without a word they all nodded, fleeing the room and letting him sit alone on the couch by himself. His couch, in his home, where he never thought he’d be again. He felt out of place. Like a visitor.

He stared at the wall, the couch feeling foreign underneath him. He’d been feeling uncomfortable chairs and a plastic mattress all week. He missed his couch. It was like it was part of his family.

Everything was silent for a minute as he just stared. He didn’t know why they thought this was a good idea. He didn’t know why they still bothered with him. But it wasn’t what he had been thinking he’d come home to. It wasn’t what he wanted.

“Hey,” Ryan’s voice greeted quietly, and Dallon would be startled if he had it in him to be. He looked up, conflicted, and Ryan asked, “can I sit?”

Dallon nodded, so he did. Seeing Ryan again was strange. Uncomfortable. The last time he saw him was in the hallway of a hospital, kissing him because at that time and place he thought it wouldn’t matter. Now he was back home again, in the place he’d always known, and he was asking himself why he would dare do that. It was idiotic. It was ill-advised. He was ill, too.

“This was a stupid idea, wasn’t it?” Ryan asked awkwardly, and Dallon looked over at him incredulously.

“You think?” He asked sardonically, and Ryan smiled sheepishly. “I just got off of suicide watch, Ryan. Throwing me a party is a little fucked up.”

Ryan clucked his tongue. “It’s hardly a party-“

“Woohoo! You didn’t die!”

“Dallon!” Ryan laughed and Dallon did too; he had to give him the benefit of the doubt. Any other situation and maybe he’d be more grateful. He just didn’t really know how to make light of this right now. “I’m sorry. This was a stupid idea. I just thought you deserved a smile after everything. I kinda forgot that this wasn’t exactly the kind of thing that makes you smile.”

“No, it’s not.” He half laughed, because at least he tried. That was still a win. “But you do, so it’s okay.” He added, and Ryan turned to look at him, forming a smile too. He liked being the one to make Dallon happy. It was a victory when no one in the world was good at that. “It’s good to see you.”

“God, it’s good to see you too, Dallon.” He pulled him into a hug. “It was so lonely around here without you. I don’t ever want to know what that’s like again. How are you doing?”

“Better, I guess. It’s supposed to help me. So I feel like that’s the only appropriate response to give you.” He squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze once he’d pulled away, all too aware that Ryan was watching him.

“What was it like?” Ryan asked, settling back against the couch as if he’d forgotten their last encounter.

“Um... weird. I know it was supposed to help but I don’t know, Ryan. I think I’ve been fucked up for a really long time. Not just this summer. They told me all these weird ways to get through it. Things I know I can use, but like... I don’t know. It feels like a different life already. Like a different me.” He tilted his head to look at him apathetically. “I’m not someone who fixes things. Especially not myself. I’m someone who fucks up and then gradually finds ways to fuck things up a little less.”

“Then maybe you just use what they told you to gradually fuck things up less, y’know? It might take time but I bet it’ll be worth it. Getting better. I think it’s really important to try. Especially if you keep in mind that place. I mean, if you fuck up you go back. It’s that simple. Try to hurt yourself and you go back. Not only is that leverage but it’s also a good incentive for you to wanna get better. If you wanna sleep with lights off you gotta be good.”

“‘Much easier said than done.” Dallon sighed, stretching out his arms to rest on his knees. “I’m just glad to be sleeping in my own bed tonight. I’m exhausted. I don’t even have the energy to be anxious cause I’m so exhausted.”

“And then tomorrow’s a new day.” Ryan sighed too, and Dallon had nearly forgotten. A new day. That was the worst part. He had to keep living day after day without a break. Or at least he didn’t know how to get one.

The silence was the worst part. All the time he had to think. He hated thinking. Trying to pretend to heal. Trying. “Yeah. Tomorrow’s a new day.”

“And today...” He got up, reaching out to take Dallon’s hands, making butterflies burst in his chest. This was wrong. This was all wrong. “Your party for not committing suicide.”

“Yay.” Dallon laughed half-heartedly but with Ryan’s smile he couldn’t help but smile back.

“C’mon! We got cake. You look like you starved in there. C’mon, Dal.” He pulled him up, and the butterflies danced, and Ryan hugged him, standing on his toes.

* * *

Music played quietly on Dallon’s record player as his fingers played absently with a lock of Ryan’s hair. He kissed so well, Dallon thought as the presence of a hand sat heavy on his hip. It wasn’t like he had anything to compare it to, but it was nice. It was comfortable.

Ryan’s fingers brushed his skin under the hem of his tee shirt and Dallon sighed, smiled, tilted his head as their lips moved together fluidly.

His Christmas lights were on. The room was dim. There was a love song playing because it just happened to be on the record that Ryan picked out. They kissed, long and slow and like they had all the time in the world, though both of them knew they didn’t. They just had their moments. These moments of textbook romance.

Except it wasn’t romantic. It was just a caricature of romance. A fallacy. A performance, except the only audience was the little stuffed sheep Dallon’s parents gave him as a baby, sitting on one side of the bed.

It wasn’t romantic. It was just all false hope.

Dallon’s hand moved from his hair to the side of his neck to his shoulder and back up to his hair, indecisive to a fault as Ryan’s fingers simply flexed on Dallon’s hip. He settled for touching his cheek, cradling his face in his hand, brushing his thumb ever so gently across his cheekbone. But that seemed to break the spell, because Ryan pulled away gently, trying to feign like it wasn’t a gut reaction.

“Dallon. You know... you know I love you, right?” He asked carefully, each word delicate on his tongue. Dallon hated when people said things like that. That always meant they were going to contradict loving him. Still, he nodded, he supposed he knew that, and tilted his head back against the pillow. “Right. Cause I do. Cause you’re my best friend.” He sounded distressed. Conflicted. “And I know... what you told me. How you feel. How we’ve been lately. And even though I love you, we can’t... like, be together.”

He recoiled, furrowing his eyebrows but nodding nonetheless. He knew where they stood. He just thought it was different now. “Okay.” He said hesitantly, calculatedly.

“I’m not gay, you know?” He added, Dallon knew that, but that didn’t mean... “I mean, this is just... for fun. Yeah?”

“Yeah. I know.” Dallon nodded, but he didn’t get it. Ryan showed up here. This was more than that. He didn’t say it, though, didn’t refute, just reached up to cup his cheek and leaned in again. He didn’t mind so much what was coming out of his mouth when he knew the score.

I love you too. The words died on his tongue, drowned in the moisture on his lower lip, and Ryan kissed them away quick.

* * *

“What are you doing?”

Dallon’s mother looked up and then back down at the few shirts she was folding, not hearing the anguish and accusation in her son’s voice when he stood in the doorway of her room. “Oh, Claire down the hall has been struggling with money so I told her I’d give her some clothes for her husband since he got laid off at work.”

“Those are daddy’s clothes.” He pointed out, and that was all he could say, though so much more was in his head. His dad’s clothes. They weren’t hers to give away.

“He hardly wore these ones, babe. Some of them still have tags on them. I’m not getting rid of everything.” She assured him as she set a pile of folded clothes in the laundry basket. She washed them. Washed the smell of his cologne off of them and gave them away like it was nothing.

“It’s only been five months.” His voice wavered and his throat felt raw. Five months wasn’t a long time. Five months was supposed to be for mourning. Not getting rid of him. Not forgetting he was every there.

“Dallon, it’s a mess around here. We haven’t cleaned in forever.” She sighed, like maybe she were fed up with him. He knew he was inconvenient sometimes, but how inconvenient could a child’s mourning be? He was her son. He was his father’s son, too, and he didn’t feel right about letting her forget that. “I’m getting rid of some of my stuff too. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal.” He argued, and she looked like she was going to snap or cry or maybe both. “He’s only been gone five months and you’re already getting rid of his stuff. This isn’t what we’re supposed to do! You’re not even thinking of him!”

“Dallon, please.” She sighed again, shaking her head in distress and exhaustion, probably, as she hadn’t been sleeping.

“No! How are you okay with this?!” He cried, finally letting himself.

“I’m not okay with it!” She yelled back at him, and almost innately Dallon jumped back. “Of course I’m not okay with it! But I have to be the strong one because you’re my son and I’m your parent! I have to put you before me. Sometimes that means burying my own grief to make sure that you’re okay. But don’t ever tell me that I’m okay with this because I’m not, Dallon. Don’t ever tell me I’m not thinking of him. I miss him every day. But I can’t handle all of this, okay? I can’t. I just need to pretend. I just need a distraction. So please, Dallon. Let me— let me handle this in my own way.”

He sniffled, guilt hard in his chest, and wiped his cheeks as he disappeared down the hall, leaving the tension thick and heavy. He grabbed his shoes from beside the door and left the apartment without so much as a goodbye, because he didn’t need to say it. They’d made it clear that they didn’t need goodbyes anymore.

The wind had a warm sweetness to it as he sat down on the curb with his head in his hands. He always did this. He always ruined everything.

“Hey,” Josh said gently, and Dallon looked up at him with red eyes. He’d called him on the way to the cemetery, cried into the receiver and begged him to be there, so he wasn’t shocked. Josh was always there when he needed him to be. He liked that about him. He sat down on the curb beside Dallon and asked, “You went off on your mom?”

“Yep.”

“You feel like an asshole?”

“Yep.” He covered his face with his hands and Josh watched him for a second, unmoving. “I don’t know. Everything feels useless. Like nothing is the same. I mean, I know obviously it isn’t, but like... it feels like my mom and I aren’t related. Like we never knew each other. Like she resents me and I resent her and we just wanna get away from each other because it reminds us too much of him. And then... I don’t know. Everything about my life right now is twisted.”

“No.” Josh contested. “Not us. Not your friends.”

“No, that too.” He corrected him, because he just had no idea.

“But-“

“Ryan and I have been hooking up.” He said with a depleted sigh, and Josh turned to look at him in shock. “Not sex or anything. Not really. Just, like. Making out. Grinding. Stuff like that. We haven’t... talked about it, though. Not really.”

“Ryan’s not gay, Dal.” Josh told him hesitantly, as if he didn’t know it. As if he had been brainwashed this whole time. Of course he knew he wasn’t gay. Ryan had told him that, hadn’t he?

“I’m not forcing him.” Dallon insisted, and Josh looked skeptical. “Dude. Screw you. I’m not forcing him. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Okay, okay. You’re not forcing him.”

“He keeps initiating it.” Dallon added, as if to prove himself, but it seemed to work because Josh looked surprised. “I mean, I was, at first. I kissed him a few times but he never, like, pulled away. And then— a couple of weeks after I got home from the hospital, I slept over his house. And we always share a bed, because that’s just what we do, and we were laying there talking when he kissed me. Like, I just— I was telling him about this movie I saw that I thought he would like, and he kissed me. So I kissed him back, and asked him what that was for, and he said that he didn’t really know. And now every time we’re alone together...” He trailed off, but shook his head in distress. “I don’t know. I just figured I’d tell you.”

“Oh.” Josh looked away pensively, and Dallon made a face. He knew how it sounded. He and Ryan had always been so convoluted. “You’re not dating, though?”

“No, we’re not dating. Ryan doesn’t like me like that. He doesn’t like guys. At least, that’s what he says.” He ran his hands over his jeans steadily. “I really like him, though. And I don’t think he likes me back. Or maybe he does. He just doesn’t wanna say it. I don’t know.” He pulled at his hair, groaning with clear annoyance, and he didn’t know what else to say. Everything he loved was twisted. Everything he cared about has been flipped upside down. “My life is really fucked up right now.” He summed it up blatantly, trying to find more detailed words to describe it, though nothing quite felt right.

“Tell me about it.” Josh laughed dryly and Dallon did too, but it wasn’t funny. It was just sad. Weird. Confusing. And he didn’t know what to make of it all.

* * *

“I really don’t wanna do this.” Dallon said to Ryan as he covered his nose and mouth with his hand. Ryan looked between he and the frog, pinned to the tray by its hands and feet, belly up and exposed and ready to be sliced through.

“It’s just one class. An hour. You can do it. It’s just a frog.” He urged, but he didn’t exactly look thrilled at the idea of it either.

“A frog who probably had a life and a family and hopes and dreams.” He muttered under his breath, but picked up the scalpel anyway.

He positioned it the way their teacher had showed them. Right above its heart. He didn’t want to cut out anything’s heart. He pushed down and felt sick as he sliced skin, all the way until Ryan could fold it over with the tweezers, reveal its organs and guts and-

Dallon gagged, turning away from the desk and feeling water on his tongue. He raised his hand unsteadily, and his teacher nodded his head at him. “Can I go to the bathroom?” He asked, and hardly waited for another nod before he jumped up and bolted down the hall, holding a hand over his mouth.

He slipped into the bathroom and into the nearest stall, dropping to his knees and emptying his guts in the toilet. It was so gross, he thought, the idea that they had to slice open a creature, that they were expected not to throw up when quite literally pulling its insides out. He sat back on his knees, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Are you okay?” Someone asked, and Dallon startled, not having realized that someone else was there. That was just what he needed. Someone hearing him puke.

“I think so.” He reached out to flush the toilet.

“Do you want me to get the nurse?” The boy asked but Dallon shook his head quickly, stumbling to get up and feeling like an idiot for it. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, no, I’m good. Just.” He shook his head again, his words failing him as they often did, and used the stall handle to get himself up. “Frog dissection unit in bio. I can’t...” He wandered over to the sink, wiping his mouth again. “You do it yet?”

He shook his head timidly, watching Dallon turn the faucet and stick his hands under the running water. “My class is doing it Monday.”

“Yeah, take my advice: skip.” He said and the boy laughed awkwardly, folding his arms as he watched Dallon splash water in his face. It was cold, made his skin feel uncomfortable, but it was better than smelling like puke. Anything would be. He sighed, carding a hand through his hair, and looked up at him with apology in his eyes. “Sorry. I, uh. I recognize you. I bumped into you the other day in the hall. Now I’m just... barging in here to puke in the bathroom when you’re in here. Sorry. I’m, ah. I’m a bad person.”

“Nah. Whoever started the frog dissection lesson and whoever created narrow hallways are bad people.” He offered, and Dallon smiled, shrugged, nodded in agreement. It didn’t make him less of a bad person, but he didn’t need to air his dirty laundry to the cute boy in the school bathroom. “Um. Are you sure you don’t want me to get the nurse? You look... green. And pale.”

“I’m okay. I’m always pale. Don’t worry about it. I just get weird with death. I’m uncomfortable swatting flies. I never really wanted to gut a frog. I never really wanted to have to, y’know. See or smell or touch its insides.”

“I don’t blame you for leaving. Or, um, puking. It sounds...” He trailed off, making a face of disgust.

“Yeah. Unpleasant.” He tried to laugh, wiping his hands off on his jeans. It was gross. So was he. His luck was even worse now that he happened to puke in front of possibly the cutest boy he’d ever seen. He didn’t know what to do with this.

“I, uh. I have mints, if you want one.” The boy offered, going to take his bag off of one shoulder before Dallon could accept.

“Oh. Yes, please. That’s probably a really good idea.” He looked at him with big eyes, shocked at a stranger’s kindness. Or maybe not a stranger, maybe an acquaintance by now, or just a peer, or a classmate. “You’re not gonna drug me, right?” He added as a second thought, though this boy with braces and glasses didn’t exactly seem capable of that kind of crime.

“No, I’m not gonna drug you.” He promised, sketched through a laugh. Dallon smiled sheepishly, his mother would kill him if he didn’t at least ask, and watched him dig into his backpack for his tin of mints.

“Hey, uh.” He started, but shied immediately when brown eyes looked up at him. “It’s Brendon, right?” He asked, though he knew, and Brendon’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “You’re in a class or two of mine. I just figure I should know the name of the person who’s potentially drugging me. For the cops, y’know.”

He smiled again, Dallon really liked his smile, and pushed up his glasses as he retracted the tin of mints from his bag. “Yeah. Brendon. And, uh. Of course. For the cops. Not drugs, though. For the record. Here.” He handed the tin to Dallon, their fingers brushing briefly before he pulled away, blush on his cheeks.

“Thank you.” He opened it and took two, better safe than sorry, and nodded gratefully as he popped them in his mouth. “Sorry for, y’know. Puking.”

“Sorry for interrupting your puking.” Brendon accepted the mints, tucking them into the side pocket of his backpack when he smiled.

“Dallon, by the way.” Dallon added, reaching out a hand to shake and then deciding against it, Brendon probably wouldn’t want to touch somebody who just puked.

Brendon seemed to catch the realization in his eyes because he laughed, nodding. “Yeah. Dallon. I know. Classes. I’ll, uh. Shake your hand next time. When you’re not...”

“Pukey. Uh-huh.” He looked away with a laugh, embarrassed. He always embarrassed himself in front of people who mattered. It was like the only thing he was really good at.

“Dal?” Ryan’s voice called suddenly from the hallway, and Dallon put a hand on his forehead in exasperation, turning to look into the sink as the bathroom door opened. “Hey. Mr. B said to come make sure you’re okay. You... do not look okay.”

Dallon tried to laugh again, shaking his head as he pushed a hand through his hair. “Yeah, no, the frog... y’know. Flashed its guts in my face. The only response I have to that is to puke.”

“Understandable.” He approached him slowly, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder as Brendon watched curiously. “You wanna go to the nurse?”

“No, I’m good.” He denied, and turned to face him because he looked like a mess in the mirror. “Did you finish? Like, cutting up the frog and whatever. Cause I’m not going back in there until that thing is gone.”

“Yeah, no, it’s done. You’re good.” He assured him. “You wanna go back?”

“I assume I should.” He sighed, and turned to nod gratefully at Brendon. “I’ll see you around. Thank you for the mints.”

“Sure.” He smiled, or at least forced one, and Dallon did too, trying to memorize that look in his eye before he slid out the door.

“Was that Brendon Urie?” Ryan asked quietly once the door had fallen shut behind them and Dallon nodded, keeping his head down as they headed back to bio.

“Yes, and I just puked in front of him.”

“Jesus Christ.” He breathed out and Dallon laughed this stupid, desperate laugh. He fucked things up. Couldn’t cut open a frog for biology. Puked in front of cute boys. Lied to himself and said that he would be okay when whatever he and Ryan were broke apart like it inevitably would. Lied to himself every time that he looked at him, too.

His fingers twitched by his side, but he resisted the urge to reach over and grab his hand.

* * *

“Why is it that every time you come here you pick literally the worst possible things for us to watch?”

Ryan scoffed at him and bumped his knee against Dallon’s, sitting thigh to thigh with him on the Weekes’ couch one afternoon. “You just have bad taste.” He accused, poking fun at him. He thought he had great taste in movies, actually. Dallon didn’t seem to always have a problem with them.

“You have bad taste.” Dallon corrected, stealing the remote from him and holding it on the opposite side of his body. “You lost your remote privileges.”

“Hey!” Ryan laughed, and reached out to grab it back from him because they had a deal. Dallon giggled, holding it away from him tauntingly, but Ryan didn’t care. He leaned over him to grab at it, still laughing, their hands brushing and Ryan half in his lap by the time he got it in his hand.

“Hey,” Dallon whispered, and suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore.

Ryan blinked at him cautiously, all too aware, as he straddled Dallon’s right thigh and their fingers touched around the remote. They dropped it in unison and Ryan’s hand went to the side of his neck, not bothering to ask because he knew what Dallon wanted, and he leaned in to kiss him when Dallon’s hands went to his waist.

“Mm,” Ryan made a noise into his mouth as they kissed, not pulling away this time, not looking guilty, running his hands all over the sides of Dallon’s neck, up through his hair and knotting his fingers in it. Dallon gasped, wasn’t expecting it, and when Ryan’s knee went in between his thighs he gasped again.

He dug his fingers in bony hips and Ryan’s mouth fell open, grinding down against Dallon’s thigh because the friction was so perfect. Dallon rolled his hips upwards and Ryan rolled them down, meeting in the middle and both letting out hushed moans into each other’s mouths like secrets.

Ryan pulled away to look at him, breathing heavy. “God, you’re so hot.” He breathed out, meeting his mouth again because neither could help it.

Dallon pushed him onto the couch beside him, fire in wide blue eyes, and Ryan unbuttoned his own jeans, tugging down the zipper and arching forward, his back against the back of the couch. Dallon was breathing heavy as he slowly, so slowly, went to touch his shirt, his exposed stomach, and dipped his fingers underneath the hem of his jeans. Ryan stilled, breathing loud, and Dallon slid his hand tantalizingly slow into his boxers, feeling for a second in uncharted territory before he wrapped a hand around his length.

“Fuck.” Ryan swore under his breath, throwing his head back, and Dallon leaned down to kiss him again. Ryan accepted it, exhaling in a moan as Dallon trailed his hand up, back down, feeling him and wondering why this took so goddamn long.

The sound of keys in the door caught their attention and Dallon pulled his hand away fast, in a panic as the doorknob turned. Ryan buttoned his jeans and crossed his legs just as Dallon’s mother was pushing through the door and they stared at each other with wide eyes, pupils blown, their lips red and bitten, praying she wouldn’t notice though she couldn’t possibly be that oblivious.

“Hi, boys.” She greeted, kicking off her shoes and hanging her keys up on the hook as Dallon wiped his hands off on his jeans. “What’s going on?”

“Uh, Ryan has really bad taste in TV so I punished him.” He looked at Ryan out of the corner of his eye and his face was burning red, mortified. “By not letting him have the remote, y’know?” He added after a beat, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Mm. Only child. We don’t get that, huh, Ryan?” She laughed and he shook his head, feigning a smile at her banter. “Do you guys want anything to eat? I’m gonna make dinner.”

Ryan shook his head and she started toward the kitchen, almost out of their sight. “No, we should probably go start our project.” Dallon made up an excuse, looking for a way out as his hands shook in his lap. He didn’t know what that was. Why that happened. He thought...

“Okay. Well, let me know, then.” She glanced at them over her shoulder, smiling kindly. “Ryan, are you sleeping over?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sleeping over.” Ryan confirmed, and his eyes darted toward the hallway where Dallon led them, nodding a head toward his mom in a goodbye, a thank you, whatever, and closed the door tight behind them.

Dallon turned to glare at him and Ryan was shaking out his hands, ridding the anxious energy from them. “What the hell was that about, Ryan?” He hissed, pointing to the living room and what had just conspired.

“I don’t know.” Ryan whispered apologetically, covering his flushed face with his hands. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I can’t do this with you. Oh my god.”

Dallon stared at him, suddenly guilty, and he couldn’t believe he’d let himself do that, get that far, not with Ryan. “I shouldn’t have-“

“No, that was on me.” He shook his head, and pushed his hands through his hair as he turned to head toward the door, his back to Dallon where anxiety settled in his stomach. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Fuck.”

His eyes widened and he followed him, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Are you going to go jerk off?”

He turned around, eyes narrowed at him dangerously though this wasn’t all on Dallon. Not this time. He wasn’t going to take all of the blame. “Yes, Dallon, I’m going to jerk off because you just had your hand around my dick and I can’t do this with you!” He snapped, but almost immediately calmed himself down because he knew not to snap at Dallon. Dallon’s eyes softened but he still glared, not even knowing what to say. That didn’t look like not wanting it. “I can’t do this with you, Dallon.”

“You kissed me, Ryan.” Dallon whispered, shaking his head, so sick of all the mixed signals and the mistakes and the blame. “You were the one who kissed me. You’re the one going to touch yourself to the thought of me.”

“Okay, you know what, Dallon?” He took a deep breath. “Yes, yes I did, and yes I am, and yes, I want to fuck you, but I can’t, okay?! We can’t! You don’t get it!” He hissed, trying not to raise his voice, and Dallon’s eyes widened, not expecting the confession. “You don’t get it. I can’t. I’m sorry but I can’t.”

“Okay.” Dallon nodded, stunned with disbelief, and gestured toward his door, not knowing what else to say. “Please don’t be loud, though.” He added, and Ryan turned to give him a stupid, perfect, grateful smile before he slipped out into the hallway. He was so fucking sick of all the mixed signals.

He sighed to himself as Ryan shut the door, and fell back on his mattress as he heard the bathroom door shut down the hall. The sound of the water hitting the wall came on, and he groaned, going to cover his face with his hands before he pulled them away, trying to listen though he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the shower.

Dallon glared at the ceiling, so goddamn frustrated, and went to pop the button on his jeans.

* * *

“Josh, do you think it’s stupid of me to like Ryan?” Dallon asked quietly, burying his chin in his pillow and staring up at him. Josh was his voice of reason. Josh always told him what he needed to hear.

He looked at him, something unreadable in his eye. “Do you think it’s stupid of you?”

“I think everything I do is stupid.” He figured, and Josh made a face at him, that worried face, Dallon knew that face well by now. “I don’t know. I really don’t. I thought I knew what I was doing. I thought that I got those signals from him all summer but maybe that was just pity. Maybe all along he just pitied me because I’m miserable. He doesn’t get that pity just makes me more miserable. Now I don’t know if I was justified in trying or not.”

“I’m confused.” Josh said, trying to take in his words though he never really understood Dallon and Ryan, even before all of this. “I mean, okay. I know this summer was weird. I know he reciprocated when he said he didn’t want to. So I don’t really know where his head is at either. Is he still... is he still sending you mixed signals? He’s still saying no and then-“

“He told me he wanted to fuck me, Josh.” Dallon sighed in interruption, covering his face with his hands. He sounded pathetic. He was grasping at straws. He knew that. But he couldn’t stop thinking about it. About him. He couldn’t stop hearing it echo in his mind. Yes, I want to fuck you. He couldn’t have been clearer, yet Dallon heard the words foggy and convoluted.

“Wait.” Josh crossed the room to sit beside him, shaking his head in disbelief. “Ryan said that? To you? Out loud?”

“Yeah. Fuck.” He groaned, humiliated that he even had to say it to him. He just needed to clear his head. It felt so cluttered lately. “He was at my house and I almost...” He squirmed uncomfortably; it wasn’t so enticing now that he was admitting it out loud. “I had my hand in his pants and my mom walked in before we could do anything but we went to my room and he said that we couldn’t do anything. But he’s been... initiating it. Sending me mixed signals. He called me hot when he was fucking making out with me. I don’t know. I basically accused him of blaming it on me when he was initiating things too and he said that he wants to fuck me but he can’t. I’m not making that up. He said it.”

“I believe you,” Josh assured him.

“So am I crazy?” He asked desperately, and Josh stared at him like he’d finally realized: Dallon wasn’t crazy. Ryan was. “I mean, he knows how I feel about him. And he tells me he doesn’t want to and then he starts making out with me and I feel something. Like it’s not just me. I feel so stupid, Josh. Like I’m reaching. I want him to like me back and his actions say one thing but his words say another and then he drops this bomb and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I should pull away or if I even can. If that’s what he wants. I just want to be in his head. I want him to tell me why he thinks we can’t.”

“I wanna know too.” Josh mused, because it made no sense. Saying one thing and doing another. Human beings could be so difficult sometimes. He pushed a hand through his hair, watching Dallon state desperately up at him as if looking for an answer, but Josh didn’t have one. Not yet, anyway.

* * *

Ryan was shoving his English book back into his locker when a hand smacked the one beside him, making the sound of metal ring in his ears and making him jump at the noise. He turned, and he wasn’t anticipating fiery brown eyes in return.

“Stop leading Dallon on.” Josh demanded from beside him, making Ryan’s eyes widen involuntarily in sudden fear. He hadn’t been expecting him: he thought he was alone. “I mean it, Ryan. Stop leading Dallon on. He’s going crazy thinking you like him back and he does not need to get attached to someone right now. He’s in pain and he needs someone to cling to and if that can’t be you then you need to stop it right now before it gets too far.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, slamming his locker shut and heading down the hallway to leave out one of the side doors. “Stop talking about things you don’t know.”

Josh followed him down the stairs and onto the vacant campus, having waited patiently for him to finish his quiz after class because it was the only time to ambush him. “You’re not the one he’s crying to because he’s stupidly, pathetically in love with a straight boy who will never love him back.” He snapped at his back and Ryan stopped in his tracks, turning to glare at him because Josh never got mad. This wasn’t like him. “You told him you wanted to have sex with him, Ryan? Your best friend whose father just died, who just realized he’s gay, and who has feelings for you. You told him you wanted to sleep with him. Or, no. You said you wanted to fuck him. That’s even worse. He is not someone for you to play with. He’s not a toy. He’s your best friend. You need to make up your goddamn mind because it’s getting really fucking tiring, Ryan.”

“I was raped when I was twelve, Josh.” Ryan hissed, and Josh took a step back, eyes wide at the confession. The words burned on his tongue, he’d never said them out loud, and tears got caught in his throat when he realized he’d admitted it. “So sometimes I can’t do the things that I want to do. Sometimes I can’t let myself. I mean I can’t physically let myself. And yes, okay, I’m leading Dallon on. I know that. And I feel terrible. I always feel terrible. But I’m not lying. I wasn’t lying. I don’t know what this is but I do...” He stopped, covering his face with his hands as they trembled at the confrontation. Having to admit to it. He’d been avoiding it for a reason. “Fuck. I don’t even... I’m sorry I’m leading him on and I’m sorry that I’m attracted to him but I am, Josh, and I like kissing him, and I like that he likes me, and I’m hormonal and confused and I don’t know what I want from him.”

Josh shook his head to stop him for a minute, shocked. He didn’t confront people for a reason. He didn’t know how to. He knew not to fight Dallon’s battles for him because they were even too difficult for him to bear himself. “Are you gay? Or bi, or something?”

“I don’t know. I don’t fucking know. I don’t know what I am but I know that I like it when he touches me. I like whatever the fuck we are. And I can’t. I can’t— ruin everything! I’m ruining everything. I’m just... confused, Josh. I am so fucking confused and I don’t know what I want and you need to stay out of it. You need to let me figure this out on my own.”

Josh watched him wipe tears from his cheeks, guilt building in his throat. He didn’t know how to build bridges. He just thought he could, just this once. “Ryan, I know, and I get it, but you’re hurting him.” He said softly as if he didn’t already know. “You have to know that your actions are affecting him.”

“I’m hurt too, Josh!” He gestured to himself. “And I’m not trying to hurt him! I’m trying to figure out what I want! He’s the one that’s willing. He’s the one that wants me and I want to know if I feel the same way. It’s okay to experiment. Everyone says that it’s okay to experiment.”

“But not with him.” Josh insisted desperately.

“Why not?” Ryan yelled, but lowered his voice immediately when he realized they were still on school grounds. “Look. Dallon is my everything. He’s the only person who’s always been here for me my entire life. That means something. I don’t want to fuck up our friendship. I can’t fuck up my best and oldest friendship. I need him. If I date him, Josh... I can’t be what he needs right now. I can’t love him like he needs someone to because I don’t think I have that in me. I don’t think I have anything left in me anymore.” He cried, hitting his chest like he were trying to break through it and find a heart he didn’t know he even had. See if it was still beating and circulating blood and pumping it through his veins because it didn’t feel like it. Not when it had been broken for so long. “But if we keep pretending... if we pretend that it never has to become anything else and we never have to talk about it then I don’t have to face it. I don’t have to know. There’s so much pressure on me to know what I’m doing but I’m fifteen! I don’t need to know!”

“You don’t need to know, Ryan, but you need to be careful.” He assured him, and Ryan looked away, up at the rolling clouds in the sky, and rubbed at his eyes with his fingertips. “This is going to end so, so badly.”

“I know, but I don’t know how to stop.” He cried, not daring to look back at him. “I just want to know what’s going on.”

“I know, Ryan.” Josh sighed, and when reached out to hug him Ryan stepped back, didn’t always like being touched, and suddenly he realized why. Josh sighed, letting out a long breath, and Ryan squeezed his eyes shut. “Ryan, this is gonna hurt both of you. You have to know that. This is going to hurt you.”

“Don’t you get it?” He asked, exasperated, and Josh looked hurt when Ryan met his eyes fiercely. “It already has, Josh.” He added, and he didn’t know what else to say. He knew this was bad. He just thought at first that he could control it. “It already has.”

* * *

There was a rapid knock on Dallon’s bedroom door and he got up warily, as his mother wasn’t home and wasn’t supposed to be home for a while. He didn’t know who it was so he stood there for a second, eyes wide, and-

“Dallon.” Ryan’s voice cried, and Dallon went to open his bedroom door.

“Hi. Oh my god. You scared me. Did my mom leave the door unlocked again? She always does that. She— wait. Why are you crying?”

“I saw my dad.” Ryan said tearfully, almost trembling, with a terrified look in his eye like he were haunted. Dallon didn’t know what to say, at first, feeling stupid for rambling. He enveloped him in a hug because Ryan was scared, he could tell, and he didn’t know how to make him feel better. That was all he ever tried to learn how to do.

“You saw him?” He asked, and Ryan tensed up in his grip. “Where? Did he see you?”

He nodded his head, swallowing down a sob. “I was dropping Caroline off at her friend’s house downtown, cause my mom was busy and she trusts me to get her there safely. She had a— a birthday party to go to. And I saw him when I was going back to the bus stop. I think he saw me. He looked like he wanted to say something or stop me and I ran.” He looked conflicted, scared, maybe, eyes wide like he had seen a ghost, though in a way he had. “I don’t want to see him. I don’t have anything to say to him.”

“I thought you did.” Dallon mused, although it may have been the wrong thing to say because Ryan sniffled and Dallon felt stupid for saying it. And just as so, because Ryan looked at him with skepticism all over his features, wondering why he’d contest. “I mean, you told me once that if you ever saw him again, you’d tell him off.”

“No. No, I don’t— I don’t want to talk to him.” He inhaled sharply and for a second Dallon thought he was going to throw up. “I thought I did and then I saw him and—“

“It’s okay.” Dallon interrupted in a whisper, rubbing his back, trying to comfort him though he didn’t know how.

“Fuck him. He never loved me. He never cared about me. He never will.” He pulled away, shaking, and held Dallon’s biceps tightly. “He wouldn’t approve of me anyway. I mean, he hates me. He always has. I can’t look for his approval. I’m never gonna get it. I thought...” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t-“

“Ryan, hey. It’s okay.” Dallon shushed him, and Ryan breathed out shudderingly, searching his eyes, bottom lip trembling, before he leaned in to kiss him. Dallon kissed back at first, always did, but this wasn’t Ryan, this wasn’t right. “Ry.” Dallon whispered, trying to push him away though he couldn’t find the strength. “You’re upset.”

“I know.” He agreed, pulling at his shirt frantically. Trying to find comfort in his best friend like Dallon did so often with him.

“You said you couldn’t do this with me.” Dallon reminded him, those words were haunting, so haunting, but he knew Ryan had meant them. Still, he didn’t stop, didn’t reconsider, just touched his chest, his sides, trailed his hand down to grab at his hips.

“I know.” He repeated, but his hands moved down to unbutton Dallon’s jeans. Dallon’s breathing hitched as Ryan pulled his zipper down with clear motive. Dallon’s head was spinning. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore.

“Just to be clear, this is on you.” He breathed out, but didn’t stop him.

“Shut up, Dallon.” He hissed against his mouth, kissing him hard and getting his jeans unzipped. Dallon let him kiss him, tried to kiss him back, arched into his touch when he ran his hands all over him.

We can’t do this. We can’t do this. We can’t do this. Ryan had said it so many times it was ingrained in Dallon’s mind. But now everything was cloudy, and he would let Ryan do whatever he wanted to him.

“Please, just-“ Ryan grunted, trying to get his jeans off. Dallon shifted his hips, let him, and just as quickly Ryan went to unbutton his own. He stopped to grab at Dallon’s shirt, mind all over the place, too distracted, and whined, “Dallon.”

“Okay. Okay.” Dallon pulled off his shirt too, and Ryan’s hands were all over him as he went in to kiss him again. “Hey.” He added when Ryan pulled away, pulling off his own shirt and throwing it somewhere in Dallon’s room with reckless abandon. “I don’t wanna do this if you’re not okay with it.” Dallon observed him, watching him undress himself quickly.

“I’m okay with it.” He assured him, standing in his boxers now. “I don’t care, Dallon. Just kiss me.” He begged, so Dallon did.

All of a sudden Ryan turned him around and shoved him back, making Dallon gasp in surprise as he followed. “How are you so fucking strong?” Dallon whispered, breathing heavy as Ryan pushed him down against the mattress.

“My dad.” He whispered simply, going to straddle him.

He looked up at him, his eyebrows furrowing in sudden apology. “Sorry.”

“No.” He brushed it off, digging his nails into Dallon’s shoulder and leaning down to catch his lips. Dallon’s eyes fell shut and he reached out to hold Ryan’s waist, his flesh cold above his boxers, pushing his hips up to meet in the middle.

Ryan shuddered, his bare skin against Dallon’s, and pulled desperately at his hair as he settled down against him, molding their bodies together like they all of a sudden fit. Dallon slid his hand down to his lower back and Ryan jerked his hips forward, trying to find some friction.

“Are you sure you wanna-“

“We’re not having sex.” Ryan interrupted, but he could have convinced Dallon otherwise.

“Okay.” Dallon agreed nonetheless, letting him tell himself that if it would make him feel better, and Ryan seemed satisfied because he shifted to kiss him again, fitting his hips perfectly against Dallon’s.

Ryan kissed him and Dallon kissed back, grinding up as Ryan grinded down. Their hard ons brushed through their boxers but there was that relief, that friction, and Ryan made this noise when Dallon thrusted upward. Dallon clutched his bare side and Ryan guided his hips, showing him how he liked it, just rubbing against each other desperately because they were too scared to go all the way. Knew they could never come back from it if they did.

“Oh, god.” Ryan whispered, thrusting down against Dallon like he had something to prove. Dallon breathed out as their hips slotted together in a messy rhythm, less trying to make anything of it and more just trying to get off.

They moved quick, making fluid motions against one another as they both moaned and gasped and tried not to make more noise than that. Ryan said they couldn’t do this. He said that, but yet he was here, hard because of Dallon and letting him get him off because he knew what he really wanted. He had just been too scared to admit that.

“Dallon.” Ryan whined suddenly, tightening his grip on Dallon like a warning.

“I know.” Dallon whispered back, he felt it too, and tilted his chin up to kiss him. Ryan shuddered again, letting Dallon hold him close as he came, and he pulled away to bury his face in his shoulder. Dallon wrapped an arm around him, letting himself go, tilting his head against Ryan’s and hearing his own heart pound.

Ryan was still for a minute, breathing heavy, his face in the junction of Dallon’s shoulder. Dallon wanted to say something, anything, but there weren’t any words to say that would make any sense right now, so he listened to Ryan’s breathing and stroked his hair until he pulled back, shifting to lay on the mattress beside Dallon and hooking an arm around his bare chest. Dallon was shocked at the gesture, thought he’d pull away and get dressed, snap at him before he disappeared. But he just laid beside him, his head on his chest, and ran his fingers gently over his skin.

“I thought you said you couldn’t do that with me.” Dallon said after a beat, not bothering to censor himself like he normally would. It felt different right now. Safer.

“I did.” He huffed, running his foot up Dallon’s leg lazily almost as if to tease him. Dallon didn’t understand. “Special circumstance.” He added, making Dallon smile despite everything. “Besides, my mind has been... all over the place. Not thinking straight. There’s no harm in one time.”

“I guess you’re right.” Dallon agreed, but at this point he would take what he could get, excuses or not. He just liked this time with him. “You okay?” He asked as a second thought, bringing a hand up to card through his hair.

“Yeah.” He agreed in a whisper, making himself comfortable against Dallon’s side. Dallon pressed an absent kiss to the top of Ryan’s head as their bodies melted together, warm skin and flesh and bone and minds that seemed to be on the same page, if only for a minute. “You know when— when you’re a kid, and you see these perfect families on TV? You know, the ones with the mom and the dad and the bunch of kids and the happy storylines? They get a dog, and the kids all start dating, and they have these sweet moments where the music plays and they have a group hug and learn these sentimental life lessons?”

Dallon nodded, brushing his fingers languidly through Ryan’s hair as he stared at the stars on his ceiling, wishing that this would last forever. He knew they always had to borrow time. That real life caught up to them eventually. “Mhm.”

“I always thought that that was gonna happen to me eventually. That one day my dad would stop hating me and I’d have, like, a normal family. I had this stupid notion that everything would just... fix itself. And I thought for the longest time that it was my fault that I didn’t have what other people did. That something I did made my dad hate me. I was the only one he ever hurt. So I had this constant guilt that— that I was ruining my family.”

“I get that.” Dallon whispered, not quite saying that he still blamed himself for everything.

“And then he left, y’know? And I never got those group hugs or sentimental life lessons. I never got that perfect family I imagined my whole life. Or a dog. I’ve always wanted a dog.” He looked up at Dallon, frowning gently, and shook his head like he just couldn’t believe how wrong everything had turned out. “There’s no shows on TV where the kid fucks his best friend and gets bottles thrown at ‘em instead of a hug, huh?”

There was that word again. Fuck. It was primal. Animalistic. Just fucking. Not love. Not what he’d expected this to be.

“Probably somewhere out there. Not any that I’ve seen.” Dallon sighed, tracing shapes on his shoulder blade with his fingertips. He wished he had anything else to say. The truth was he never understood what he’d seen on TV.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just naive.” Ryan thought it over, as if working out all of his problems here with Dallon. “Thinking that things would fix themselves and that my dad would just turn around and love me. That my mom would open her eyes and realize that he was fucking other women.”

“Sometimes you don’t wanna believe what’s right in front of you.” Dallon’s voice came out in a whisper but only because it felt way too honest.

“You’re right.” Ryan sighed too, ducking his head against his chest. “I still can’t help but feel like an idiot, though.” He added as he scratched aimlessly at Dallon’s bare skin.

“I’m the same way.” Dallon admitted, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. “But I mean, I guess I’m the opposite, in a way. I had a perfect family. It just got ruined too fast.”

“I think it’s harder having something and losing it than not ever having something at all.” He figured, trying to calculate. It wasn’t a contest, though. Just figuring out who he would rather be in this situation. Unloved, or loved and lost.

“That’s the age-old question, I hear.”

Ryan let out what seemed like an attempt at a laugh and pat his chest, listening to the thump of his heart. Dallon closed his eyes, sleepy all of a sudden, as Ryan’s hand moved gently across his skin. “I’m sad.” He told him honestly, because he knew Dallon could relate. Dallon was sad too. Dallon was practically built on being sad.

“I am too.” He said, as Ryan expected, and wrapped his arm tighter around him. He never got a hug from his dad. Dallon had a lot of them to spare. Ryan tilted his chin up to kiss him gently, the softness making Dallon’s heart swell, and he settled back down against his chest when words failed Dallon again. He loved him. He loved him. He just didn’t know why he couldn’t say it.

* * *

Dallon smacked the spoon out of Ryan’s hand for no reason other than he thought it would be funny. Ryan gasped and went to steal Dallon’s instead, right off his tray where he had set it down. Dallon tried to take it back and Ryan tried to dodge him, turning it into a playful war and a mini food fight of sorts, except Dallon was only throwing pieces of shitty corn and Ryan was retaliating with baby carrots.

“Stop!” Ryan giggled, kicking at Dallon’s foot under the table.

“No. Make me.” Dallon bit back, all smile, no malice, and kicked him too as he made his spoon into a catapult.

Josh rolled his eyes from beside Ryan, where he was trying to eat his lunch like a normal person. “You guys seriously act like you’re dating.”

“No we don’t.” Ryan argued immediately, though the thought wasn’t so unappealing to Dallon. What was wrong about them dating? They fit together so perfectly sometimes.

“You so do.”

“Shut up.” He snapped, and he wasn’t smiling anymore.

Dallon felt suffocated all of a sudden. Like he could feel the pressure again, happening every time he thought it was over. That pressure. Things always seemed okay until he remembered that they were them: Dallon and Ryan didn’t do okay. They only did complicated. Convoluted.

“I’m...gonna go to the bathroom.” Dallon said awkwardly, suddenly desperate to find a way out after the change of atmosphere. “I’ll be right back.”

He got up and left before either could say anything, though he was sure that Ryan wouldn’t contest. He speed walked to the bathroom and his head spun. He didn’t know what his problem was. Why he was so against them. They made so much sense.

He closed the bathroom door behind him and leaned against the wall, shaking his head and trying to think.

There was a number in his phone he’d saved for when he needed it. When he needed to talk, when he couldn’t tell anybody else anything. It was like a secret friend, only he wasn’t a secret. Just someone Dallon wanted to keep all for himself.

Dallon Months: can you sleep over my house this weekend?

* * *

“Here.” Dallon handed Silo the mug of hot chocolate and Silo nodded in thanks, setting it down gently on his crossed ankles as Dallon climbed into his bed across from him, placing his own steaming mug down on the side table.

“Thanks.” He ducked his head, smiling subconsciously down at the drink as steam warmed his face. “So, what’s going on? Boy troubles?”

“Mhm.” Dallon rested his chin in his hand. Boy troubles were an understatement. He had no idea what was even going on with Ryan Ross. It was like one second they were on the same page and the next, in a completely different library. “You know how, like, Ryan and I have been a fucking around? Hooking up and stuff?” Wordlessly Silo nodded, going to take a sip of his cocoa but then deciding against it because it was still too hot. “I... I don’t even really know how to explain it. It’s so confusing. Sometimes he seems like he wants to be with me and then the next minute he acts like I’m disgusting. Like the thought of being attracted to me in any regard is a crime. He’s not religious so I don’t think it’s that. And I don’t think he’s homophobic. I think it’s just... I don’t know. What if it’s just me?”

Silo tsked at him, knew he put himself down a lot but also knew that that couldn’t be it. “C’mon. You can’t think that way. Don’t automatically blame yourself when you don’t know what’s going on, Dallon. That’s not fair to you.”

“I can’t help it. I always blame myself. I have to. I’m the one that keeps fucking up.” He looked away disdainfully. “I’m trying to get better but I feel like a toy. Like I can’t move. Or can’t move on. I don’t know.” He slid his hands into his hair, shaking his head at himself with obvious disappointment. This was not who his father would have wanted him to become. “God, I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. What did I do?”

“Dallon, these are mistakes anyone could have made. You aren’t a bad person because you made some assumptions. You aren’t a bad person because you have a stupid crush.”

“But I’m a bad person because of how I’m handling it.” He put his head in his hands. Terrible. He was so terrible. “He keeps telling me that he doesn’t wanna be with me. He keeps saying it. I’m just— I keep thinking his platonic love for me is more. I know that. I know that but I can’t stop hoping it means more. I mean, I take so much, Silo. I take so much. I never give anything. I never even realized. He does everything for me and he’s trying to do what I need and he’s being a good friend and I’m so selfish. I don’t know how not to be. I’m scared that this is who I’m gonna be for the rest of my life.”

“You can control that, Dallon. You can decide who to be.” Dallon folded his arms, disbelieving. If he could decide who he wanted to be then he would have changed this months ago. “Look. You’re still young. You’ve got a long time to change who you are. You don’t have to worry so much about that.” He added, and Dallon looked away in thought, feeling pathetic all of a sudden when he realized that his entire life was people talking him off of ledges. “But for the record, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you. I just think you put a lot of weight on relationships and are let down when people don’t treat them the same.”

“Can you blame me, though?” He asked, desperate not to be wrong, as an agreement more or less. “I mean, I have no one aside from him and you and Josh. And my mom, I guess, but it’s not like I can talk to her. Ryan’s different. He’s been my best friend my entire life. It feels like we’re supposed to be together. I feel it. I thought he did too.”

“Do you think that maybe this isn’t about him?” Silo asked thoughtfully, and Dallon gave him a look. “I mean, maybe not all of it?”

“Meaning...?”

“That maybe you wanna be with him to like, fill something in you.” He tried to spell it out for him without being too presumptuous.

“You mean because of my dad?” He filled in the blanks and Silo nodded hesitantly, knowing already how Dallon would react to the suggestion. “No. No. Ryan isn’t just, like, a toy to make me feel better. He’s my best friend. I want to be with him. That’s not because I’m lonely. It’s just because I like him.”

“Okay.” Silo nodded, but he didn’t sound like he actually agreed so much as he was complying to avoid a fight. “Okay, Dal, that’s fine. But like... at fifteen people are really confused, okay? Ryan might be confused. It’s okay if he is.”

“I know that, of course it’s okay, but I’m so sick of this back and forth. I just wanna know. I just wanna be sure of something just once in my life.”

“It’ll become clearer one day.” Silo assured him. Dallon looked at him like he wasn’t helping, but he found in time that it did. Things would become clearer. In a more convoluted way than he’d expected, but still, clearer all the same. “I don’t know, Dallon. I think you need to stop putting so much weight on your thing with Ryan. He’s confused. Being around someone like you can be confusing. Give him time to figure it out.”

Dallon thought about it for a second before he nodded in agreement, but the words made him wonder. Someone like him. Someone like him.

What was that supposed to mean?

He opened his mouth to ask, but the words died before they could escape when he realized that maybe that was what he meant.


	70. Chapter 69: Drawing on the Walls

The stairs creaked familiarly as Brendon followed Tyler up them. He didn’t really know why he was there: sometimes Tyler called him over to talk without reason. He was taking advantage of all the time he could get with his best friend, as graduation approached and so did the rest of their lives.

“Okay. I have something to tell you.” Tyler began reluctantly, closing his bedroom door behind them.

Brendon sat down on Tyler’s bed, watching him with worry as he took a seat beside him. He didn’t like conversations that started like that. “Okay.” He replied hesitantly, unsure of whether he was going to want to hear it.

“Okay.” Tyler shook out his hands, ridden with anxiety, in turn making Brendon anxious too. He suddenly felt like getting up and going home. “I’m... I’m going to LA for school, Bren.” Tyler told him gently, obviously nervous and with good reason. Brendon looked at him incredulously, shaking his head, because that didn’t make sense. That didn’t make any sense. He was his best friend. He couldn’t just... move.

“What?” He asked, because he couldn’t find any other words.

Tyler sighed, like he knew this was the hardest part. Actually having to tell him. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say it for weeks. I love BC and you and my family but I need a change. I really need a change. And besides, Josh is going to LA for school too, so I’m not gonna be alone.”

Brendon swallowed his tears, throat scratchy, it just didn’t make any sense. “You’re following a boy?” He asked, his voice breaking.

“No, I’m getting a change of scenery and going somewhere where I can expand my horizons and it just happens to be where my boyfriend is going too. I’m not going for him. I just need something new. And besides, you’re gonna be in school too. You’ll be so busy. And I’ll visit you for every holiday and vacation.”

A tear slipped down his cheek and Tyler sighed again, pulling him into a hug. “I don’t want you to go.” He cried, and didn’t let go even when Tyler went to pull away.

“Brendon. Brenny bear. It’s gonna be okay. You still have Dallon. And Ryan. Ryan’s going to the same school as you. You guys are really close now.” He pulled away, and Brendon’s bottom lip trembled. “C’mon. Sometimes things have to change. That’s not a bad thing.”

“But in this case it is. You can’t leave me. How are you gonna leave me?”

“Not easily, but I can’t stay here for you, Bren. I need to go do my own thing. Don’t cry.” He hugged him again when tears slid down Brendon’s cheeks. “You’re still my best friend in the world. Nothing will ever, ever change that.”

“Not even the distance?” Brendon peeped, heartbroken.

“Not even the distance.” He confirmed as he pulled away. “Listen. I know you have to go to work now, but come over after school tomorrow. We can hang out. I feel like we hardly see each other anymore and I need to get in all the Brendon time I can.”

“Yeah.” Brendon agreed, not bothering to hide his disappointment. He would have taken anything but that. His best friend leaving. His entire life changing. “I’m gonna miss you.” He added after a second, not even really letting it fully process in his mind. That he was going to have a reason to miss him.

“I’m gonna miss you too, Bren. But I’ll call you every day. And I’ll visit for every holiday and we’ll spend every day every summer together. And when you and Dallon get married and have a fairytale wedding, I’m gonna be your best man, and I’ll babysit your kids when I’m home and I’ll tell you tales of LA and you can tell me tales of married life.”

“You say that as if any of it is set in stone.” Brendon laughed through tears.

“It is.” Tyler insisted; Brendon couldn’t find it in him to argue. “Go to work. I’ll see you tomorrow. I promise.”

“Pinky promise.”

“Pinky promise, Brenny bear. Go.” Tyler nodded just head at him so Brendon got up, tears in his eyes. He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to let him out of his sight.

Tyler was gonna be gone. They had been friends their whole lives, practically. Brendon couldn’t just... live without him. That didn’t make any sense. He didn’t know who he was without him.

He had been thinking about it for weeks. Months. Dallon had asked him the night his nephew was born if he would move in with him. Brendon has been apprehensive, trying to talk himself out of a good thing, but now... now things were different. If Tyler was leaving home, getting a life of his own, then Brendon guessed he had to too. There was no use in hanging on to his childhood if his best friend wasn’t going to.

Tears felt thick in his throat as he hopped onto the bus, going to find a seat in the back.

Bumblebee: I’m 100% moving in with u. I just gotta find a way to tell my parents.

* * *

“—I swear, I told her to stop. There were children there. But you know, egg hunts get people hyped up. There’s no stopping that.” Tyler waved his hands around dramatically as he told the story of his family’s Easter and Brendon laughed, sitting at his desk with a carton of ice cream resting in between his crossed legs. His homework sat on the desk untouched, but it was nice, just talking. Or just listening, for once.

“As much as I love your stories, I’m glad I don’t talk to my relatives. My homophobic aunt would be so happy to hear of my little stunt, or so she’d call it.” And there he went, turning things around on him again. Tyler glanced up at him, watching as his eyes flickered dangerously, but Brendon wouldn’t get into it again. He couldn’t. There wasn’t enough room for his self-doubt anymore. The confidence he needed was officially pushing it out. He rolled his eyes at himself as if to say don’t mind me, I’m just being dramatic. Uries will be Uries. “Whatever. Not like it matters anymore.”

“Of course it doesn’t.” Tyler agreed, though he didn’t sound so sure. “So, what else is new?” He changed the subject, deciding that he and Brendon weren’t fit to talk about that.

“Oh. Um. Dallon and I might be moving in together.” He said aimlessly, thumbing at the hem of his tee shirt as it accidentally touched the rim of his ice cream carton. So the thing was that Dallon had mentioned it two months prior, okay, and Brendon kind of neglected to tell anyone. He hadn’t meant to keep it a secret, but, well. He’d been busy with suicidal and invasive thoughts. Moving in together was kind of put on the back burner.

“What?” Tyler sat up like a patrol dog, and Brendon peeked up from his ice cream sheepishly. “Brendon Urie, what?!”

He laughed again, awkward and soft and kind of surprised himself. He hadn’t said it out loud yet, he’d realized. “Um. A couple of months ago Dallon mentioned us living together. I’ve been on the fence about it since then, y’know, I wasn’t sure at first, but yesterday I guess I just realized that that’s what I need. So I told him yes. He has an appointment to look at an apartment next week. I’m gonna go with him. I just... didn’t think it would happen.” He looked down at his lap, wondering how he was going to tell his parents after what had happened just a few weeks ago. “Yeah, I didn’t think it would ever happen. But his mom is giving him some money to help him get a place of his own, and he has a job now, anyway. Besides, I’m sure my parents will help me with the money. I just have to ask.”

So maybe his plan was rigid. Maybe it wasn’t concrete. But he and Dallon figured everything out together eventually, and this would be no different. This was a step in the right direction. “That’s a really big deal, Brendon.” Tyler said, standing up suddenly. Something in Brendon’s heart sank, like he were a child being told no, and he thought that Tyler of all people would understand. “You can’t just... decide to move in with someone. You have to make sure you’re ready to live with him. And that you’ll even like it in the first place.”

Brendon watched him walk back and forth, pacing like he always did, and he stuck his spoon into his carton of ice cream sadly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if he’s difficult to live with or messy or has annoying habits you don’t like?” He waved his hands around, making Brendon lean back in his chair and frown. He thought he had this figured out. He’d spent months with it in the back of his mind, and he thought... “You don’t wanna shack up with him and then realize it was a mistake.”

He crossed his arms, feeling anxious again. “I’ve already spent so much time with him, though. Salt Lake City and California and stuff, you know?”

“But those were summer trips, tiny.” He refuted, and Brendon knew it was coming from a place of support but it made his hands start to shake anyway. “This is gonna be sharing a bedroom, a house, picking up after each other and cooking for each other and showering in the same space and, like, not even in a sexual way. You might annoy each other. You have to take that into account.”

“Yeah, but...” Brendon slumped his shoulders. He hadn't even thought about that. He’d spent so much time with Dallon that he never actually thought about what it would be like living with him opposed to just being a guest in his home. Dallon lived in the mess of an artist and Brendon just lived in a mess. He didn’t know yet how to find that balance.

“I’m not saying it won’t work. I’m just saying that it’s a big step and you should consider it.” He pat Brendon’s thigh as if to say sorry bud, and sent him off to war.

“Yeah. You’re right.” He sat up and grabbed his bag, frantic. “Fuck. Okay. I need to get home, it’s getting late, but I’ll let you know what happens. I’m gonna go tell my parents that I may or may not move in with my boyfriend.” He pushed his homework into his bag and gestured to the ice cream carton on the desk. “Should I bring this down?”

“No, I’ll take care of it. Good luck, though. I didn’t mean to put any doubt in your head.” It was an apology in one way or another.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re the only one that makes me think about anything logically anymore.” Brendon forced a smile and said goodbye as he made his way out, fishing his bus card out of his jean pocket along with his phone.

Bumblebee: gonna tell my family tonight about our plans

Dally: crossing my fingers babes

He smiled in spite of everything, knew Dallon was telling the truth, and broke into a run when the bus pulled up to the bus stop at the end of Tyler’s street. He’d never regret living with somebody like Dallon. He’d never even think twice about it. If he could take care of him like this for months then he would be the perfect person to live with. Brendon just needed a break from home, he needed a change of scenery, he needed some space. He needed a space, just for him and Dallon.

They would be okay with it. They would be okay with it. He repeated it to himself like a mantra.

They would be okay with it. They had to, or else he didn’t know what he was going to do.

* * *

“No. Absolutely not.” His mother shook her head, covering her face with her hands in exasperation. Brendon stood across from his parents in the living room, having announced confidently his plan before they gave him those looks. He hates those looks. They made him feel like an idiot. “Brendon, how do you think you’ll afford this?”

His shoulders fell. He thought they would be happy for him. He thought they would love this plan. “I mean, I have work, and I’m gonna pay what I can until I start saving a steady amount for rent. Dallon and I will be splitting everything. I was just... kind of hoping that you could help me out?” He rocked back and forth hopefully on his heels, and his parents exchanged looks of disbelief; he knew he should have come up with a better plan. “I mean, it wouldn’t be a lot, and I’m gonna try to come up with a budget and stuff.”

His mother folded her arms because it was irresponsible, he knew that, but he was trying. “Brendon. We’re already going to be paying for your college. We are not funding your entire life so you can go live with your boyfriend. You have to come up with a solid plan and costs and utilities and we’ll consider it. But we are not just going to blindly feed you money.”

Brendon shifted his weight, depleted. “That’s understandable.”

“And besides, why is this the first time we’re hearing about this? You can’t come to us and tell us that all of a sudden you’re moving it with your boyfriend when just a few weeks ago you were trying to break up with him.”

Fury burned in his veins. How dare she use that against him? How dare anybody bring it up when he was trying so desperately to forget? “That is so not fair.”

“What’s not fair is that you’re springing this on us, Brendon.” She argued; maybe he should have brought it up in passing first. Maybe he should have drafted it as an idea. It was just that he was thinking so hard about everything else that he had pushed it all to the back of his mind, and now he was stuck. “I thought you already knew what you wanted. I thought you were going to stay home and move out when you were ready. I don’t think you’re ready right now.”

“That was never set in stone, mama.” He reminded her.

“Neither is this.” His father retorted.

“I know, and I’m not saying it was, but I need to be with him right now! I just—“ He huffed out in frustration; they just weren’t getting it. “I just had the worst year of my life. And I’m trying to make myself okay. Dallon is the single only thing that got me through any of it. Without him I would literally be dead right now. And I love you guys and I love living here but if I have to stay in a house with this many people any longer I’m gonna go crazy. He’s getting an apartment with or without me, that’s been established, but... we’re going to look at it together. We’re going to make these plans together. I want to wake up to him every day and be reminded that I have something good.”

“Brendon, we aren’t completely against you living with Dallon. You just need to find a way to afford it. So make a solid plan, find out the living costs and bills, and then bring them to me and we can talk about it.” He perked up with newfound hope. “You need to prove to me that you can be responsible and solve your problems on your own.”

“I will. I promise I will.” He crossed his heart, nodding too fast. He knew it would take time, effort, he knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as it was when this was just some pipe dream.

“Why are you just telling us this now, Brendon?”

“Because.” He shifted restlessly. “Dallon asked me a couple of months ago and I’ve been thinking about it. And yesterday Tyler told me that he’s going to California for school, and now I just— I need to be with Dallon right now. Everything is changing so fast. And he’s the best thing in my life right now. I need him.”

“Tyler’s going away?” His mother asked, her eyes softening when she realized what all of this was about.

“Yeah. He’s leaving. He’s gonna be hours away and I’m gonna be here, without him, without my best friend, but I need a change of pace. I can’t feel like I’m trying to cling to my childhood anymore. I think living with Dallon could be good for me. I really think that.”

His mother looked at his father with a sigh; he knew that he would somehow get to them. “Then we will discuss it, Brendon. But in the meantime, I want you to make that plan.”

“Okay.” He promised, at this point he would do anything. “Yeah. Okay. I’m gonna make a plan. It’s gonna be a good plan.”

“Okay.” His mother replied, but still she sounded skeptical. She didn’t think he could do it. He wouldn’t bother being offended; he had a plan to make. A plan, because he knew what he wanted and finally, he was going to go after it.

* * *

“This sucks,” Brendon exclaimed as he slammed his notebook shut and pushed it to the side in disgust. Dallon looked up at him, half frowning in regard to the little outburst, not unlike how Brendon acted these days but surprising nonetheless. “I’m tired, and my head hurts, and this sucks.”

“What are you trying to do?”

Brendon stood up, leaving his notebook be as he climbed over to Dallon on his bed, tripping over his legs but making no attempt at trying to come across as poised. “I’m trying to figure out how much money I make on average and what I have saved versus how much I spend on shit usually. I’m trying to figure out if I’ll have enough money for rent and expenses and whatever along with school costs but I suck at math and I just-“

“Hey, tiny, take a breath.” Dallon laughed, reaching out to take both of Brendon’s sides in his hands as he pulled him in close. Brendon groaned, he hadn’t meant to ramble without breathing again, and he gracelessly pushed Dallon onto his back so he could lay against him, using him as a glorified pillow.

“My parents say that if I’m gonna make this happen, I need to make sure I have money and a plan. But I suck at money and I’m usually good at making plans, except this one is more adult and complicated than all my other plans and I’m annoyed and I can’t do this right now. I wanna snuggle.”

“Okay. Yeah. Let’s snuggle.” Dallon agreed, knowing all the ways to Brendon’s heart, and Brendon turned over under his arm to arch his back against Dallon’s chest. It was days like this that he knew this was somebody he needed to be with. Somebody who made him feel so safe. He had to live with him. He didn’t want to do this without him. “Hey,” Dallon pressed a kiss to his shoulder, “we’re gonna figure this out.”

Brendon let his eyes fall shut to the rhythm of the rain pounding against his windows. He’d been through so many storms in the past few months, all consecutive and doing more damage than the last. Brendon wasn’t expecting it to feel so... normal. He was expecting months and months of heartbreak, stress, feeling like he wasn’t him. Now, well, he didn’t feel like himself just yet, but he was kind of maybe getting there a little bit. At least he was doing a little better. He still had bad days, just like today, but a rainy Saturday in May was no match for him.

“Hey, what does your mom say about this? You and I, moving in together?” He twisted the ring off of Dallon’s finger and pushed it back on, running his thumbnail around the smooth edge aimlessly as he captured his fingers. Dallon nosed the back of his neck to the side of it, where he leaned in to press his lips gently. Something Brendon felt in all of him when he wondered how long it was until he woke up to it every day.

“She’s happy that I know what I want. And I’m gonna try to pay for it with whatever money I’m making and have saved, but she’s gonna help when I need it. I’m gonna need it.” He adjusted his position, and Brendon shrugged his shoulder lazily when Dallon hooked his chin over it. “But I don’t wanna dorm, and she supports me being out on my own, even though she doesn’t mind me living at home. And part of me doesn’t want to leave home either but it’ll be a good experience, you know? It would just be more tolerable with you there. I would feel safer.”

Brendon understood, he was scared too, he was always scared, especially about being on his own. But that was the thing: he wouldn’t be on his own. He would be with Dallon. “I know. I’m trying to save up right now, and I know it’s gonna be weird leaving home but I’m glad it’ll be with you. And if my parents aren’t gonna help, at least yours is. I love your mom.”

“Your parents will come around, babes. Don’t stress about it. And she loves you too.” Dallon tickled his side and Brendon smiled, glad he was metaphorically marrying into such a wonderful family.

“Good. That’ll make being a Weekes a lot easier.” He brought Dallon’s hand up to press his lips against his fingers, and he could feel Dallon smiling being him as they exchanged silent vows. One day, maybe. Brendon would make sure that things would work out.

“I don’t know, Urie.” Dallon sighed, loved his name, but offered his own anyway, just in case Brendon would like to take it. “Marrying into our family might not be all that you bargained for. It might be a little much.”

Brendon tsked playfully, playing with his fingers again, imagining a wedding ring like there would be one day. “Nah, you guys are perfect.”

“We weren’t always, though.” He pulled away just enough for Brendon to turn over in his arms and give him a look of curiosity, not bothering to hide it like he used to, and tugged at the collar of Dallon’s tee shirt.

“No?” Wordlessly, Dallon shook his head. “Why?”

“Um, it’s kind of a long story.” He tucked a lock of hair behind Brendon’s ear. “Things were pretty bad after my dad died. I was insufferable and I was hard on her and she was going through a lot too. We were in a bad place for a couple of years. But eventually it got better. It took a little while, she needed to learn how to trust me again, but, y’know. Things are okay.”

Brendon frowned, trying to take in the information as Dallon slid a hand up to place on the back on his head. Learning to trust him again. He knew a lot, but sometimes even that wasn’t enough. “Broken trust.”

Dallon nodded carefully, and Brendon’s eyebrows twitched into a look of worry. “I was kind of a liar.” Dallon supplied in that quiescent voice of his, and Brendon listened to the rain outside as Dallon told him of past storms. “Fake promises, false hope. It wasn’t a good look for me.” He scratched at the back of his head lightly. “I’m better now, though.”

Brendon reached up to poke at the scar on his chin mindlessly, pouting like a kid who had been told no. Processing. “You don’t lie anymore, right?”

Dallon let himself smile. “No, I don’t lie anymore. It didn’t do anyone any good. I was just... trying to protect her. From what she shouldn’t know.”

“Things she still doesn’t know?” Brendon asked, though sometimes he was still afraid of the answer.

“Some of them.” He rested his lips against Brendon’s forehead, brushing his hair back gently as if to tell him not to worry. And Brendon wouldn’t. They had a lifetime together, and he wouldn’t worry. There would come a day where he knew everything about Dallon. Everything, no matter how scary it was.

“Tyler thinks we’re gonna annoy each other.” Brendon said suddenly, and Dallon’s eyes wandered down to his own at the sudden change of subject, though Brendon hadn’t been able to get his mind off of it. “If we live together. That it’ll be different than what we have now and that we’re not ready.”

Dallon’s mouth did that thing where he didn’t frown but Brendon could tell he wanted to. Brushing his fingers through Brendon’s hair, he asked, “Do you think he’s right?”

“I don't know. Do you?” Brendon asked back, because sometimes it was easier to hear what Dallon said before he formed his own opinion. Sometimes he stressed over stupid things before he realized that he was overthinking them again. But Dallon shrugged too, turning on his side, and Brendon reached out to rest a hand right above his hip.

“Maybe. I mean, you can’t spend all of your time with someone and expect to never get on their nerves. We annoy each other sometimes. That doesn’t mean that there’s something wrong with our relationship, it just means that we have to be separate people too. But I think that you and I are special, Brendon, and we get along and are close and there are a lot of reasons for us to live together that just make sense. We might annoy each other, but we love each other, too. Both of those are normal.”

And Dallon was right, because maybe he’d get on his nerves, maybe Brendon would go home some nights and sleep in his own bed or Dallon would do the same, but when it all came down to it, he swore living with Dallon would be the most beautiful thing in the world. “Yeah, you’re right.” He leaned in to press their lips together, leaving a smile in his wake. “I let him get in my head sometimes. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he thinks we’re good together, but he’s got my best interest at heart.”

“I get it. And I do too. That’s why I want you to know that if you need to talk to me about anything, ever, you can. If you don’t feel good mentally, or you’re scared about us, especially about this summer and school and everything. Living together is gonna be weird and new, but-“

“It’s gonna be worth it.” Brendon interrupted, and they shared smiles before Brendon kissed him again. “Thank you. I promise, you’re gonna be the first person I’ll go to for everything. Especially cause you’ll always be in my general vicinity.” Dallon laughed and Brendon did too, curling up and pulling his boyfriend closer. “C’mere.” He buried his face in his shoulder. “I love you. And I’m gonna do everything I can so I can live with you.”

Dallon only nodded, holding him close. Brendon didn’t take it as disbelief. He knew Dallon thought the best of him. He knew Dallon knew he could do it. Sometimes Dallon had more faith in Brendon than the boy did himself. These days, though. These days, Brendon was learning to be okay with himself.

He guessed that had to count for something.

* * *

On Sunday night, Brendon was trying to do the math of living expenses when he got tired and bored and pushed it aside to open up his psychology textbook instead, tapping his pen against his head aimlessly. He read over a few different chapters, about the brain and Freudian concepts and repression, and it was something that stuck even long after the book was closed and he was tucked in bed, trying to sleep though his mind was racing.

Ms. Kenny greeted him the next morning as he closed the door to her office, setting down his bag, and they exchanged their hello’s and how are you’s and how was your weekend’s before the boy took a seat across from her, wiggling around and pulling on the sleeves of his oversized yellow shirt. “What should we talk about first?” She asked, handing him the reigns, and not very often did he walk in there with a plan but when he did, it was exigent.

“Um, I wanna talk about, like, stuff that I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot lately, not that I’m not always thinking, cause I am, but lately... Dallon has been telling me more about his past. He’s been really emotionally available for me, and it makes me happy, you know? That he feels comfortable enough to share things with me. And so the more I learn about him, the more I wanna know about me.”

She hummed thoughtfully as she went to grab him a can of soda from her fridge, his favorite Monday ritual. “What do you mean?”

“When I was diagnosed in November, the psychiatrist told me that it’s possible that I was already depressed. And something that happened— that being the Halloween thing— could have woken it up. And I think about that I lot, but she also said that depression happens gradually, and that I might have shown symptoms of it in subtler ways.” He talked with his hands, unreasonably nervous as he’d tried to avoid the subject in all its entirety since the diagnosis.

She nodded like it made sense, though Brendon had been dwelling for months and he still didn’t know exactly just what to make of it. “That’s always a possibility.”

“Right.” He agreed, trying to remember everything he’d read the night prior and materializing it in his head. “And some of the stuff I told her makes sense. So my theory is that it was quiet and subtle until Halloween, and then something scared it out of hiding.”

She nodded again, scribbling something down like she were a therapist. He thought it was funny sometimes, because she was just a high school guidance counselor, but maybe he’d end up here too, one day. On the other side of the desk, talking to kids about their problems and handing them soda because everything was more fun with a secret. Maybe their problems wouldn’t be as scary, or maybe they would be worse. He didn’t know how to measure that just yet. “What makes you think this?”

“She said that something in my environment may have triggered past memories, which triggered my depression.” He explained, and it made sense when he was researching, page after page in his phone’s browser until he fell asleep that night. Something from his past, but what had it been? “And I mean... it was bad after I was drugged. It was really bad. But it got worse after I was assaulted. And I’ve spent a lot of time online recently, you know? Looking for an explanation. And I’ve been trying to think of what happened that scared me so badly when I was a child. Because if I can remember that, then maybe it has something to do with my depression. Maybe something happened to me when I was young, and what happened to me in the fall triggered a memory of that.”

When he looked back at her she was half smiling, some look of pride in her eye. The same kind of pride his mom had every once in a while, the one that always fluctuated though he knew that wasn’t his fault. “You’re smart, Brendon.”

He shrugged like it was no big deal. “Just looking for my answers.”

She hummed, jotting something else down, probably reading in between the lines again. “So what do you think happened?”

That was a loaded statement. Like she was just letting him diagnose himself, almost. Maybe she wasn’t a licensed therapist, maybe she was, but one thing he knew for sure was that he certainly wasn’t qualified to be making assumptions about something that meant so much. “That’s the thing— I don’t know. How do I find that out? What do I do with this information?”

“Well, it seems like this is a repressed memory.” She wrote something down as she said it, and that was what Brendon was afraid of. The thing was, he could feel it, creeping up on him like he were on the verge of a breakthrough. And he could only pray that he was. He was so sick of wondering over and over what the hell was wrong with him. He just wanted something to blame. A bad habit, maybe, but it was so much easier than letting things go.

“So what can I do?”

“There’s not much you can do to uncover those. Maybe do some things you’ve done as a child to try and get yourself back in that state-based mood. But recalling repressed memories isn’t that easy, because when the brain recalls it goes through reconstruction. That’s your brain’s way of making sense of a memory. But I know that you’ve been thinking about where this has come from for quite a long time, yes?”

“Yeah. I mean, since I was diagnosed I’ve been trying to figure out what happened. Why I was so scared when I was little. My old therapist thought that something happened to me, but it has to be something my parents aren’t aware of. They said I just woke up one day freaked out. I started having a lot of nightmares. And it’s like... I can feel myself remembering. It’s on the tip of my tongue, you know? I saw or heard something that made me scared and it set me off. Started making me have nightmares. It just got worse from there.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any way to tell. I think you just have to try and find what your triggers were if you’re insistent on figuring out what this is.”

“I almost know. I can feel it. It’s like— I’m seconds away from it. I just haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

“You seem to hyper fixate a lot on certain thoughts, don’t you?” She observed, though it couldn’t be the first time she realized that.

He shrugged, squirming around in his seat. “Yeah. I’ve always been that way. I think of something and then I can’t get it out of my head until I do something about it. I don’t know why I do that.”

“Well, you’re persistent. That’s not a bad thing.”

“No, I guess it’s not.” He sat back in his chair, arms crossed. Persistent. That was one way to say it. “I just need to know. I need to know why I’m the way that I am. I mean, my life is changing so much right now. I need this. I need to know.”

“Where is this coming from so suddenly?” She asked, but it seemed more like an observation.

“I have no idea. I just— you know how I’ve been reading about psychology?” She nodded, still pleased he’d taken that up himself. “I was reading about repressed memories the other night, and I’ve been thinking a lot about something that Dallon said to me once. He said, way before we knew anything about each other, he said that he thought there was something underlying that explained why I am the way that I am. And now I know that that negativity and whatever is because of my depression. But I spent my entire life being scared of everything and I don’t know why. My parents said it happened suddenly. So I just realized that it’s a repressed memory. It’s like— I haven’t thought about why I’m scared in so long, but now it’s this impounding urge that I need to find out. I can’t do anything but think about what changed my life like that. What made me who I am.”

“I wish I knew how to help, Brendon. I really do. But I think that if you keep trying to remember then maybe it’ll come to you.”

He nodded slowly, trying to force it out of its hiding place. Repressed memories. It was strange how those worked. “Yeah. Maybe it will.”

* * *

That evening, after everyone had gone to bed, Brendon sat alone downstairs, drinking hot cocoa as he watched mind numbing TV, thinking about what he and Ms. Kenny had talked about. He had been racking his mind all day, trying to think, but nothing came to mind. It was funny how that worked: things happened when you weren’t trying to make them happen.

He took a sip of cocoa, watching the screen change in a blur without his glasses. He liked the nights where he could spend time alone and take the downstairs to himself like no one else lived there. It made him feel like an adult. It always did, even when he was little. He remembered when he was a kid he’d sneak downstairs to watch the news after everyone had gone to bed, because his father always told him that he shouldn’t be watching it. He remembered curling up in front of the TV, smiling to himself because it was his secret, and wondering why there was so much violence in the world, how they could just broadcast it, all these people’s names as if it wasn’t going to change their lives and their reputations. He remembered praying for them, back when he believed in God, and then going upstairs and going to bed and—

And waking up in the middle of the night, crying.

Brendon jolted suddenly; that couldn’t be it. That... it made sense. He went to grab the throw blanket that he had always curled himself up into, couldn’t believe his mother had kept it all these years, and wrapped it around himself, pulling his knees to his chest as if to try and replicate how he did as a child. He didn’t know why he kept going back every night, watching the news, hearing about rape and murder and fires and suicide and hate crimes.

But he kept going back, trying to figure out the world, because something deep inside of him always wanted to know everything. It was just that everything was too much for a seven-year-old, and he let it get to him, into his mind, train him to be scared. He got it now, why he was. He understood. It had never been so clear.

He shut off the TV and bolted upstairs, bare feet hitting the wood floor in a way that should have woken everyone up but didn’t. He pushed his door shut, maybe a little too noisily, and darted for his journal, still atop his desk where he had left it. He barely opened up to the first blank page before he started scribbling it down fast.

He knew he had to figure it out eventually. He knew it.

* * *

“Remember when I was little, and you guys wouldn’t let me watch the news because you were worried I was gonna get too freaked out by it?” Brendon asked the next morning, tapping his spoon against his bowl of cereal as his parents both nodded, each pouring their respective cups of coffee. “I um. When I was like, seven, I used to sneak downstairs in the middle of the night after you guys went to bed. And I remember seeing all of this stuff, like— these stories. About murder and rape and stuff like that. So I think it was just this gradual fear, or something, that I acquired over this period of time where I was watching this stuff a seven-year-old shouldn’t be watching. So when the doctor said I reactivated traumatic memories, I think that when I was assaulted it brought back these traumatizing memories of things that I didn’t experience myself, but saw. Because I was exposed to this traumatic content. I guess when I started to get scared it just didn’t correlate at the time. That I was scared and having nightmares because of that. Because I learned how bad people could be and got scared.”

“Oh my god, Bren.” His mom put her mug down, going to envelop him in a hug. “How’d you figure this out?”

He hugged her back, burying his face in her shoulder and feeling like he were seven again, terrified of something he didn’t know. “I’ve been talking to Ms. Kenny about it, and trying to remember, and last night I was watching TV and I suddenly just... like, realized. It’s all so simple. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before.”

“I wanna talk to your doctor about this.” She decided, pulling away to cup his cheek and admire a boy she had been keeping such a close eye on for all these years. “My boy, this is good news. We’ve been trying to figure it out for years. I’m so glad you remembered.” She looked at him lovingly for a moment, nostalgia in her eyes. “I’m so proud of you. You’re becoming an adult so fast. Graduating, and in love, and going to college. Moving out soon to live alone.”

“With my partner.” He added, because boyfriend sounded too casual for what he and Dallon were.

“Yes, baby. With your partner. Without us.” She smiled, looking almost sad, and kissed his forehead before she pulled away to get her coffee.

“Does that mean it’s a yes?” He asked hopefully, watching her move across the kitchen.

“I’m thinking about it, ipo, relax. I need to look over your plan.” She assured him, and Brendon slumped in his seat again, just wanting to hear a yes already.

“So you’re feeling better?” His father asked. Brendon nodded, scooping more cereal into his mouth. “You seem like it. You’re more upbeat than you have been.”

“Yeah, I’ve been trying a new approach. And I think the new meds are working too. Maybe they were right. It’s just trial and error. I feel less like I’m running around in circles.” He looked down at his bowl, at the now soggy mess in front of him. “I feel new, though. Like I’m tying up all these loose ends and getting ready to become an adult.”

“That’s good, Brens.” He pat Brendon’s back like it were an accomplishment. A good job, son, you managed not to kill yourself. You did the bare minimum. But Brendon guessed that was an accomplishment in its own right. Not feeling like he was constantly tortured. Not feeling like he was a day from suicide anymore.

He got up to put his bowl in the sink, and decided that from now on, he was going to see to it that he celebrated every accomplishment, no matter how small.

* * *

“Dallon!” Brendon called, out of breath as the door fell shut behind him. Dallon turned to look at him and placed his watering can down on the ledge, smiling warmly as Brendon took off running again.

“Hey, woah.” Dallon laughed lightheartedly as Brendon leaped into his arms. “What’s going on, smiley?”

“I just.” He pressed a kiss to his lips, too excited to wait. “Realized why my entire life changed. Where the hell were you today?”

“Home, my stomach hurt and I didn’t wanna get up this morning because I was up all night. I slept in a few hours. I’m fine now. What’s going on? What do you mean you realized why your entire life changed? Get off, you’re heavy. What are you stashing in those tiny pants of yours? Rocks?” He put Brendon down.

“No, that’s my ass, remember?” Brendon grinned, pretending to punch his chest before he pulled him over to sit on the bench, reminiscent of their summer when Brendon sunbathed out there and Dallon gardened, trying to create new life. “So like. Last night I was just watching TV in the living room and I had this flashback. It was like, That’s So Raven except with the past. Total deja vu. And I remembered sneaking downstairs when I was a kid to watch the news even though my parents told me not to because they thought it would scare me. And it did, Dal, and that’s why I was so scared. Because every night I saw this horrifying shit on the news and one night I just had this nightmare and after that I just... I was terrified. I always thought it was sudden. It wasn’t. It was gradual.”

Dallon’s eyebrows went up in shock, holding onto his shoulders but pulling back to look at him. “Wow.”

“I know! And the thing is, I never even realized it happened. I never realized that the reason I was so scared was because I was seeing how bad the world was on the news. And when I got scared I stopped watching the news every night but it’s like, I didn’t even know I stopped. I was just scared, and I... I didn’t think it was a big deal. I just forgot to watch it, and then I forgot the next night, and then everything changed and I didn’t care about watching the news anymore.”

“That’s amazing, Bren. Not that you were scared, but like, that you remember that. Recovering repressed memories is hard.”

“I don’t even know, like, what to do with this information. I don’t know if it even matters. But I’m so excited. I’m so— this is like a breakthrough, right?!”

“I think it is. I mean, what does that mean?”

“I don’t think it means anything. I just think it’s, like, a really big deal. It explains everything. Or almost everything, anyway.” He hooked an arm around Dallon’s neck and smiled buoyantly because he just couldn’t help it. He felt more confident. Bolder. Like he knew who he was and he wasn’t afraid to be anymore. “I feel complete. Like I know myself now. It’s so... nice. Knowing who I am. Knowing why I’m the way that I am.”

“Like one door is closing.” Dallon suggested, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

“And another one is opening.” Brendon finished for him, because he knew. One door opens, another door closes. It was a tale as old as time. A tale of fate and chance and opportunity. This was all of that, and it was completely in his favor. “It’s a yes, Dal. I’m just waiting on my mom to approve.”

“Good.” Dallon bumped his nose against Brendon’s, making his heart swell. Dallon was his home. He never felt so safe than he did with him. That meant something. That meant he had found where he belonged. “Because I cannot wait to live with you, Urie.”

Brendon smiled, and it felt so beautiful knowing he knew himself, and he couldn’t help but feel like he finally found everything he’d been looking for. “I can’t wait to live with you either.” He replied softly, but he couldn’t wait to live with himself, too.

* * *

“Morning.”

Brendon looked up, forcing a smile over his bowl of cereal as he tapped the spoon against the rim aimlessly. It was early, the sleep barely out of his eyes. He hated early mornings. School mornings. It was only a number of days before he could create his own schedule. Decide his own life.

“Morning.” He said, poking at his cereal while it soaked in the milk. Sometimes he was too tired to eat so early in the mornings. He had been up late, trying to go over the plans he and Dallon had made the night before. He had his income written and divided into a budget. A work schedule drawn out and plans to learn to drive soon. He told them he’d make a plan, and he did. He stuck to his promises.

“I have conditions.” She started; Brendon looked up again, confused. “If you’re going to move in with Dallon. I have conditions.” Brendon shot up, eyes wide, and she added, “Brendon, I don’t say if lightly. If you fail a class you won’t be doing this. No makeups. No summer school. If you pass, and if this is what you really want, then okay.”

“Yes!” He pulled her into a hug, nodding fervently. “Yes, thank you!”

“This isn’t a yes yet, Brendon.” She reminded him and he pulled away from the hug, still nodding. “You need to pass every class. You need to give me the plan you made for living expenses, and I need the location of the place and to talk to Dallon’s mother too. This is a big deal and I need both of you to take this seriously.”

“Yes. I am. We are. We will. I have the plan on my desk upstairs. I’m gonna go get it!” He darted toward the stairs without waiting for a response and his mother laughed, watching him go. Watching him grow up into someone none of them were ever sure he’d be.

“Alright. Let me see it.” She accepted the paper when he ran back into the room and gave it to her, bouncing on his toes.

* * *

“Dallon! Hey, Dallon!” Brendon called as he climbed out of his dad’s car, jogging from the sidewalk to where Dallon stood with his friends by Josh’s car. Dallon startled, turning to look at him, and he was out of breath by the time he reached them. He waved to Ryan and Josh, would say more if this wasn’t urgent, as he grabbed Dallon’s arm and pulled him aside. “So I talked to my mom this morning.”

Dallon raised his eyebrows expectantly, watching Brendon bend over with his hands on his knees because really, running for a grand total of eight seconds should not leave him so winded. “And?”

“She said that if I want to move in with you, I have to pass every class and final, no makeup classes or summer school. And I’m failing stats, so. I have to get that grade up.”

“Okay. Whatever, baby, whatever we have to do we’ll do it. We’re a team.” He linked his pinky with Brendon’s, pulling him in close and smiling that little smile down at him. “I’m gonna help you.”

“I know you are.” Brendon smiled back, and he meant it. Something about this felt real. Final. “I’m gonna go hang out with Tyler for a minute. I’ll see you in class. I love you.” He kissed his cheek and took off again, leaving Dallon smiling after him because he couldn’t believe how lucky he was, sometimes.

“What’s that about?” Josh asked, and Dallon stared at Brendon until he disappeared into the school, linking his arm with Tyler’s and following him up the front steps.

“I might be moving in with Brendon.” Dallon said quietly, and it felt like a dream on his lips.

“Wait, what? Why didn’t we know about this?”

“Yeah, that’s definitely something you tell your best friends.” Ryan added, and Dallon laughed when he grabbed at his arm. “Dallon, what the hell?!”

“It’s not guaranteed yet! It all depends on how he finishes school and if his parents okay it. But tomorrow we’re going to look at a place, and I don't know, you guys.” He turned back to smile at them, inexplicably happy. “Am I crazy for thinking that this is forever? I mean, I’m gonna live with him. I’m gonna have a live-in boyfriend. And I’ve never been so excited about anything before. It just feels so final.”

“You think?” Josh asked, and Dallon supposed it was pretty hard to believe. “I mean, that it’s final. How likely is it that people end up with the person they’re with in high school?”

“Not likely at all.” He answered honestly, and he could feel his friends stare at him, but he felt calm. Sure. “But I would bet anything for that boy.”

He turned back around to see them smiling, and he knew that anybody would be willing to bet on Brendon, too.

* * *

Brendon felt like a new person, almost. And it was funny because for months he felt dirty, used, but now it was like everything suddenly made sense. He had fit the pieces together of his past, he’d discovered an important piece of him that he thought he’d lost forever. But somewhere he’d finally retrieved it, that missing link, and now suddenly it was like he could finally assign meaning to something that had just been isolated before.

He felt new. Maybe it was the springtime, maybe it was the newfound remembrance of who he had become. Or, oh, yeah. Maybe it was because he was getting ready to see his new home, if he were lucky.

“Brendon.” Dallon’s distant voice cut through a dream and as he curled up further into his covers in an early morning haze, the door swung open. “You’re still sleeping? We have an appointment in like, half an hour!”

“Mmm.” Brendon turned over, his back facing Dallon, and buried his face in his pillow.

“Get up, bumblebee.” Dallon tugged at his blanket, doing that thing in the movies where he tried to get him up but just ended up annoying him, though in this case he knew what he was doing. Brendon pulled his blanket back, groaning, and if he had any energy he would kick him.

“This is it.” Brendon muttered when Dallon went to grab his pillow out from under his head. “This is the day I murder Dallon Weekes. Never thought it would come.”

Dallon grinned, climbing into Brendon’s bed and swinging a leg over his curled-up body. Brendon whined, he needed at least twelve more hours of sleep, but Dallon had other plans. Or rather, they had other plans. Plans to see their future home. He leaned down to press his mouth to Brendon’s, a way to wake him up if there ever were one, and all of a sudden Brendon was awake. Dallon made a noise of satisfaction and when he went to pull away Brendon chased his lips, groaning when he was left with Dallon’s hips against his own and nothing more.

“C’mon. You need to brush your teeth. Seriously.”

Brendon grunted. “Dal, it’s still early.”

“It’s three, Brendon.”

Brendon squinted up at him, and he almost forgot. Getting up early to work the morning shift, crawling into bed to nap at noon when he could finally ditch the apron. “Come on. Our appointment is at five thirty and I wanted to go get a late lunch or early dinner or whatever first. We haven’t gone on a date in a while. I refuse to be one of those couples who gets so used to each other that we suddenly don’t go on dates. We cannot be stagnant. Come on!”

“You’re reading too far into this, I think.” Brendon decided, sitting up when Dallon sat back and laughed. “Alright, dork, grab me something that you’d want a trustworthy person who’s renting an apartment from you to wear.”

“Sure.” As Brendon went to search for his glasses, Dallon jumped up and went to root through his drawers. “So, I have a question. Like, a real question.” Brendon slid the frames on his face and nodded, watching him sort through a few different shirts and deciding that no one would rent an apartment to a boy wearing a pink fuzzy sweater with hearts on it. “Be honest: do you actually shop at Justice?”

Brendon gasped and Dallon giggled, finding a black and white striped shirt to hand to him. “I’m not telling you that.”

“So it’s a yes.”

“You have no proof.” He sat up on his knees and pulled his shirt off, glasses going askew but smiling nonetheless. Dallon snorted and handed him a pair of black jeans, he hadn’t put those away yet, and when he got up and climbed over his blankets he stumbled and caught himself with a hand on Dallon’s shoulder. “You fuck a guy who wears clothes from Justice so you’re just gonna have to make peace with that.”

“I’m just gonna.” Dallon agreed, grinning as Brendon accepted the clothes from him. “C’mon. Let’s get a move on.”

“Alright, pushy.” Brendon changed his pants and pulled off his shirt, shoving Dallon and leading him out into the hallway. Dallon laughed, and Brendon pulled his shirt on as they headed down the stairs, laughing with him.

* * *

“Hey, Dal?” Brendon asked quietly, sitting in the passenger seat beside him as the engine died down. Dallon looked over at him as he pulled the keys out of the ignition, skin golden in the sunset. “Are you okay today?”

“I’m better than I have been on this day in years.” Dallon admitted, holding Brendon’s hand as they looked at the building in front of them. This was it. Their future together. “Are you ready to go in, killer?”

“I’m ready.” Brendon said, and he felt antsy to get in there, actually. Like he’d been waiting for a while.

“Okay. Let’s go, then.” He pulled open his door and Brendon followed, his heart beating fast.

Dallon introduced himself and a shy Brendon to the woman before she showed them around, highlighting the features of the home because it was a nice neighborhood, and there were wood floors, and small closets though they could make that work. It was two bedrooms in case, but they’d decided they wanted to share, and she led them into the living room, where she concluded the tour, as she and Dallon made conversation.

Brendon turned to look at the wall, pictured a couch they’d pick out together pushed against it. Adjacent was a balcony, they’d find a perfect curtain for that glass door, and the TV would go across from the couch. Beside the coffee table would be a big cozy library chair, they’d make a compromise like they would compromise on everything, and Dallon would pick out art pieces while Brendon picked out decorations. He’d make it feel like home. Dallon would make it feel like home.

Dallon was shaking the woman’s hand as Brendon turned back to look at him, the way he stood there like an adult and talked rent like their future was just so soon. It felt like it was just yesterday that Brendon was a toddler, drawing on the walls with his Crayola markers and giggling at the scolding he got from his parents. In a few weeks Brendon would be coloring new walls with Dallon. Their own walls. Ones that kept them confined to their own home. A home together.

An ancient Chinese proverb theorized that lovers who were destined to meet were bound together by an invisible red thread. Brendon was never one to believe in fate, but sometimes he looked to other cultures for answers when he couldn’t seem to find them himself. Legend has it that when two people are connected by the string, regardless of the circumstances, they will always have a story to tell. And maybe Brendon and Dallon’s story wasn’t the greatest, but it was theirs.

It was said that at some points the string may bend and constrict and get tangled, and heaven knew that if that theory was true and there was some invisible string tying Brendon to his Dallon, then there had been nights where it had become knotted in itself or days where it was strained, but never broke. The string was wearing out but no matter how hard he pulled, it refused to snap. Maybe that was a metaphor for how he and Dallon held each other together even when they weren’t always on the same page.

Maybe they were just strung together, tied by a red string.

“So?” Dallon asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat, keys jingling in his hand. Brendon busied himself in buckling his seatbelt, a hopeful smile on Dallon's lips. “Did we like it?”

“We did.” Brendon confirmed with a nod. He really, really did. Pictured himself there, his things, his Dallon. He couldn’t ask for a better place. Dallon grinned, looking like he was all too ecstatic for their maybe home. And Brendon was too, really, but...

All of a sudden Dallon’s eyes were fixated on Brendon’s features, the smooth slope of his cheeks in the light of the faded sky and the way his eyelashes brushed his cheeks when he closed his eyes, imaging his stuff and Dallon’s stuff coexisting, just as they would be. It would be a big step, bigger than any they’d ever taken. A whole place just to themselves, with Dallon’s art on the walls and a mix of their styles. A million colors and knick knacks and the smell of them all over everything. It was so... real.

They were only together just over a year and— well, Brendon would like to think that he and Dallon were both secure, but sometimes he wondered just how easy it was for them to break things off. He’d tried a few weeks prior and not that he’d ever do it again, but he realized that there was no deal to what they had. It could be as easily broken as it had come together, God knew Brendon had messed up enough. Dallon could push him away, tell him he needed space, and that would be it. It was all too easy.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” Dallon’s voice met his ears suddenly, breaking the barrier of silence that had fallen over them. Brendon shook his head, too much, and sighed.

“How do you know it’s forever?” Brendon asked, and as it rang through the car like a spilled secret, Dallon turned his head to look at him. “You and me. I mean, I love you, Dal, I really do. Really really. But you’ve seen the movies and TV shows and... it’s not always as simple as holding each other and saying we love each other. Living with your significant other is a whole other level. And I’m excited, I am, I get this little buzzy feeling in my bones when I think about it, but that’s the thing. I’ve been feeling that since the day I met you. And what if that’s not enough?”

Dallon made a humming noise, quiet but intrigued. There was more they weren’t saying, a barrier that Brendon was determined to knock down from the start. He’d always been too afraid, but now here Dallon was with a wrecking ball, with the potential for destruction or the recreation of something unimaginable. “Well, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because there are so many possibilities, Dallon. We might break each other’s hearts or have some dumb disagreement and break up and I can’t bear to think about it but I have to. I don’t want to but I have to be prepared for every possible situation. And I’m secure with us, I really am, but what if I’m not always? I screw things up. What if I screw us up too? Then what? How do I know you won’t get sick of it? Of me? Or how do I know if what I’m feeling now will be what I feel years from now? Because I’m scared that one day I’ll wake up and something will change. You know how I feel about change, it sneaks up on you and it hurts and it can take away everything that we’ve spent the past year building. I just...” He sighed, twisting his fingers together in his lap. “I’m scared to let myself be entirely yours because I don’t know how to let myself free fall when something isn’t certain.”

Dallon flicked on his blinker and nodded slowly, processing the words Brendon had let spill out of his mouth. He was quiet for a minute, a minute that felt like twelve hours, and Brendon was jittery in his seat, bouncing his leg up and down as he watched Dallon’s eyes watching the road. It was a lot, and Brendon knew. Neither of them wanted to confront anything compromising. But how could he go into this blind?

Dallon looked pensive as the car traveled down the road, the wheels rolling over fresh pavement under a sky that had grown dark in the span of a few minutes. It was funny how things could change so easily and surreptitiously. As Brendon fiddled with his seatbelt, thumbnail scratching the grooves in the material for lack of better things to do with his hands, Dallon’s voice cut through the silence again, this time more reverent, making shivers climb up his spine in anticipation. “Let me ask you something, Brendon. How big is the universe?”

Brendon sat up a little straighter. “Infinite.”

“Do you know that for sure?” He pressed.

Brendon squirmed, suddenly confused. He’d seen a documentary once about space, in eighth grade science class where he sat in the back of the classroom with Tyler and drew lazily on the desk. Space is a vast and unforgiving place, his teacher had said. He'd watched with great zeal and his chin in his hands while his eyes fixed themselves on the screen. Everything about space an eighth grader needed to know. And what led him to take astrology, in fact.

But was that a guarantee? Was the world just as vast and unforgiving, though it hid it well? “Well, no. that’s just what everyone says. I suppose it’s impossible to know that.” He looked down at his lap.

“Right. So that’s what love is. People draw conclusions based on what they see and experience, not what they know. Nothing is set in stone. You have to take a gamble.”

Brendon looked away, resting his head on the back of his seat and frowning out the windshield. Taking a gamble sounded so much easier than it really was, but for someone like Brendon it was giving all of him. How could he give all of him when he hardly had any left of him to give? “But what if I disappoint you?”

Dallon’s eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean?”

Brendon pulled at his seatbelt strap, suddenly too constricting. It pressed against his chest and suffocated him until he felt like he couldn’t breathe, and how was he supposed to do this? Confront everything he’d been trying to avoid since they had become serious at once point or another? “I’m a mess, Dallon. I’m completely and utterly impossible. You put up with so much already but what if I get worse? I mean, right now I’m okay but what if we move in together and I disappoint you? I’ve done that enough, and I just... I love you too much to put you through that. What if I’m not what you expect me to be?”

Dallon was frowning when Brendon looked over at him, at the monochromatic moonlight reflecting in blue eyes and painting the slope of his cheek with a pale light. He looked beautiful just then, like a single ship in the night or a flickering airplane in the sky, encased in black. Solitary. Isolated. There was just something about the way he looked right then that made Brendon think that he’d be okay without him. Dallon could be okay if he wanted to be. “I don’t want some ideal version of you, Brendon, I want you.”

“But maybe one day that won’t be enough. Maybe it is for now, but— but we’re young and stupid and I’m worried that you’re going to grow up and realize that you’re making a mistake.” Brendon put himself down, tugging his seatbelt away from his chest and instead tucking it behind his body.

Dallon glanced at him again. “You don’t think very highly of yourself, do you?”

Brendon shook his head. “You never think about that? That one day we might not be in this place?”

“Well, of course I think about it. I have to. But here’s the thing, Brendon: sometimes people fall out of love. There’s no rhyme or reason. It just happens sometimes. And I can’t promise you that we’re going to defy all odds or anything because that’s not how life and feelings work. But what I do know, my boy, is that in twenty years, whether I’m with you or not, whether we’re married with kids or broke up amicably or not, I’m gonna look back on this and smile because I’m gonna think, Brendon Urie was the goddamn love of my life, and he made me feel like the entire world was ours. I’ll always appreciate us, no matter if we end up on good terms or not. One thing that won’t change is that you’re my first love. My first everything. And I’m gonna think about you and smile. I think that if it makes you smile, then it’s worth something.”

It was a sudden, scary thought, but Brendon let himself think it. One day there was a possibility of Dallon no longer being his. They had years and years ahead of them, they had a world to see and so many people to meet. But Brendon knew that at some point, he would become fine again. He knew that he could live without Dallon, if he were to take off and choose a different path than the one he and Brendon decided to take together. He could live without him, but he didn’t ever want to.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Once upon a time, Matt had ended a relationship because the girl had wanted him to move for her. Brendon thought that selfish, that she could make a snap decision and not consult him first. When you loved and cared about each other you sat down and made decisions together. That was where they went wrong. She had wanted New York and he had wanted Sin City, two bright, buzzing cities across the country with different people and different buildings and different scenes. They could have compromised, but there was too much to see. There was no place in the world for compromise when you had your heart set on something.

The apartment was beautiful. Lots of light, pristine white walls and wood floors and a bedroom that he would wake up in beside Dallon each morning, something that would have terrified him two years ago before he knew what being so madly, viscerally in love felt like. Before he knew that he didn’t want to live without Dallon. He wasn’t quite sure when that dawned on him, but he knew that it was a feeling that hadn’t faltered, not since they’d fought or when Brendon’s innocence had been robbed in the false safety of their school or when he tried to break up with Dallon to protect him. He always wanted Dallon there, by his side. Someone had to hold up the fort.

So they could move in together. Brendon could stand in the middle of the living room and argue about what color couch he wanted, could vow that he would never, ever let a beige couch into their new home, could tell Dallon that his decorating skills were subpar when they both knew that Dallon was just a little disorganized.

And Brendon could go home and sit in his room for some air, think about how nice it was to be home, but how great it was sharing a bathroom with one person opposed to six. How he liked waking up to the sound of Dallon singing in the shower or how he wanted to be woken up with lazy kisses on his bare flesh more often. He could move in with Dallon and cherish the fact that they were together, because he didn’t know if they had all their lives. But if what they had promised each other that summer was true, they would be together for a long time. They each had big plans for them.

Brendon couldn’t see himself moving for a boy. In a committed relationship, you make promises and you do what you can to keep them. You make compromises and talk and accommodate. And Brendon could succumb to his childish notion on life, could stick to regression and his attachment to his family, could stay home for as long as he could. Or he could make one decision that would give him just a stitch of individualism, like his brother had claimed he had. He could be his own person.

He wouldn’t uproot his entire life for just anybody. He wasn’t moving for Dallon. He was moving for himself. Because it wasn’t just Boulder City that was home. It wasn’t just Nevada and Vegas and the desert skies and dry air, the weird winters and too hot summers and the house above the diner. The smell of pancakes in the morning and the chatter of the neighborhood, the fake smiles he gave on Sunday mornings during the earliest shift. All that was home, but Dallon was home too. Brendon had to choose a home to claim for a while.

He couldn’t see himself moving for a boy, but he could see himself accommodating. Making compromises. Because when you love someone, you defy all odds to be with them. Well, Brendon had defied a hell of a lot that year, and he wasn’t about to let another obstacle in his way.

* * *

Dallon was scribbling the answer in to one of his essay questions on his English homework when there was a knock on his door. He glanced up in time for his mother to poke her head in, smiling hopefully. “Can we talk a sec, babe?” She asked, voice quiet.

“Sure.” He pushed his homework aside and nodded, so she slid into his silent room and went to take a seat on his bed. He knew what for. He knew what day it was. He knew that they’d only exchanged smiles and how are you’s at breakfast, too. And he knew that she’d come to talk to him about it, because that was what she did. Because months had passed and he’d been so busy with Brendon that it was just now that he was getting back to normal, and things were different this May. He was finding comfort in a brand-new world, as much as it hurt sometimes.

She looked at him, the glasses on his face and the sweater he was tucked in cozily, the warm blush, and she thought back to two decades ago, when she and her husband got their first apartment together. When she pictured a baby, a son, running around and smiling because he was so happy. He grew up so goddamn happy. And there were some bumps in the road, but still. Dallon had this ability to find happiness in the unlikeliest of places. “How was the apartment?”

“Really, really nice.” He smiled warmly and pulled his knees to his chest, tugging at his socks aimlessly. It was better than nice, actually: it was beautiful, wood floors and lots of light and plenty of room for he and Brendon. It was better than he expected.

She smiled back, pleased with him in so many different ways. It was a hard day, but he’d filled it with so much love. Replaced it with a good memory. He and Brendon, stepping foot into their new home, crossing a line into something better. Months of rain were over, and he was just now finding that silver lining in the dispersing clouds. “Yeah, you liked it?”

“Yeah. Bren did too. It was really pretty, and like... I could picture us there. It felt like it could be a home.” He couldn’t articulate it as much as he had liked to. But the truth was that that was all it was, just an innate feeling of comfort as soon as he stepped over the threshold. The feeling he got when he was with Brendon, the butterflies in his stomach when he knew that he had something real.

She smiled, reaching out to ruffle his hair, and he giggled softly. “I’m really proud of you, Dals. Getting your own place. You don’t have to, you know, just for the record.” And he knew it, but what was he going to do? Have Brendon live with he and his mother? This was his home and it always would be, but he... he was ready. He was ready to take his first steps in the adult world, but that didn’t have to be as scary as it all felt. He could have a hand in his along the way. “You can stay here if you want.”

“I know I can. But I think I’m ready to live alone with Brendon. And I know he’s a little nervous about it, you know? It’s like... it’s more real. And it’s hard. But I wanna do it. And I know he does too. And there’s no harm in trying it, you know? There’s no contract to live there for the rest of our lives.” There was no contract on them, either, but Dallon wouldn’t break it even if there was. “I love him, mom, and I wanna be with him forever.”

“I know, babe.” She watched him smile stupidly down at his lap and it was funny, that years ago she could hardly look him in the eye and now she was just so goddamn proud. Because he was taking steps, being who he had always wanted to be. That in itself was something to be proud of. “So, it’s been four years.” She added quietly, the real reason she came in, and Dallon knew. They always talked about it on this day, had open discussions, promised each other that they would talk. Dallon was trying to commit to keeping promises. ”How are you doing?”

“Um, I’m okay. I’m trying to make changes, be more open about my feelings and honest and stuff. Therapy’s helping. I just keep thinking about back when it happened, and I was hurting myself and everyone around me, and it was stupid and unfair and I shouldn’t have tried to cope that way. Now, I’m finding better ways to do things, and I feel safer. Happier. I think learning to trust Brendon is a part of that.”

“Good. I’m glad.” She rubbed his knee gently. “So, hey. I wanted to ask you something. Your being so adamant to move out... it’s not because of me, is it? Being with Jack?”

“No.” He promised; he didn’t know she thought that way. “No, mom. I promise it’s not. It’s just me. I need to be on my own. I need to be with my boyfriend. To see how we work together, you know? To see if we can spend a life together. I mean, I feel better. I feel happy. Like I can start my own life right now and have it be okay.”

“Good, baby. That’s really good. Because I couldn’t live with myself knowing I pushed you away.”

“You didn’t. I don’t blame you for anything. You... you have your own life. I do too.”

“Okay. Because Dallon, I’m always gonna love your father. He was and is a major part of my life. He gave me you. Raising you has been the most important thing I have ever done. And I know it’s been a challenge too but I loved taking care of you. And I’m glad that we’re both able to move on and do what we have to do to take care of ourselves.”

“Me too, mom.” He agreed, smiling softly. His own life. It sounded so wonderful when he thought about what he was getting. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, baby.” She kissed the top of his head and he watched her go, closing his bedroom door behind her.

He believed that people had different homes throughout their lives. That little apartment up in Henderson was his for the first few years of his life. Boulder City, where his life had changed a few times over. Even his family’s houses in Salt Lake City he called home, too. But now, he found that people could be home. A person. A boy, who he found everything he wanted in, and who found everything in him too.

So that new apartment with pristine walls would become home too. They’d throw his art up there and maybe some of Brendon’s too, give it personality and make it their own. Because home was never really a place, he had come to know. It was his parents, and his friends, and Brendon Urie, who made him feel like despite anything, he was going to be okay.

The door clicked shut and he smiled down at his lap, reaching out for his phone and going to call his home.

* * *

“Have you ever been to New York?” Brendon asked his boyfriend the next day as they sat in the former’s living room, each holding a Wii remote and trying to beat each other in a game of Mario Kart. Dallon glanced at him out of the corner of his eye before he bumped his motorcycle against Brendon’s. “We’ve been together over a year and I never thought to ask you.”

“Huh.” Dallon’s character sped into first place, and Brendon stuck his tongue out in concentration as he successfully and narrowly dodged a banana thrown by a competitor. “Yeah, once when I was younger. Went to Boston and New York one week. I was almost thirteen. Why do you ask?”

Brendon shrugged half-heartedly and kept his eyes trained on the TV screen. “I’ve never been. I’d like to go one day, maybe when I can feel safer being in a big city that’s known for being dangerous.”

“That’s not all it’s known for. It’s one of the busiest cities in the world. Independence, art, this unity that’s just everyone trying to get by on their own. Famous bagels. Pigeons, taxis, you know. All those clichés. But personally I really like it just because it’s New York. It’s one of those places that you’re conditioned to love just cause, but I think there’s something chimerical about a city that’s always buzzing with activity.”

Brendon felt some visceral attachment with New York in that moment. Always buzzing with activity? That was his mind. Never sleeping, trying to get to where he needed to be, but getting lost along the way. But sometimes he’d take the scenic route. It was better to take the long way home than to not get there at all. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just... yesterday had me thinking about moving. And I was thinking about our relationship.”

Dallon’s eyebrow went up questioningly while his character battled with Brendon’s for first on a new course that they had started seconds ago, Brendon having lost to Dallon on the one before. “Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. Last year I was talking to my brother about us. How to tell if you’re in love. And I used to think it was simple, like I would just be able to see it and that would be that. That I would know just by one look and then things were set in stone. But it’s more complicated than that.” He shifted his weight when Dallon looked at him again. “He broke up with his girlfriend because she was going to New York and she wanted him to move with her, but he didn’t want to go. And back when he told me this story, I couldn’t see myself moving for a boy. And I guess it’s different now, because I wasn’t in love with you then. I didn’t plan my future with you then. But now I am and I do. And it was scary, but it crossed my mind yesterday that maybe I could live without you, if I really needed to then I could live without you, but I don’t want to. That’s the thing.”

“I don’t want to either,” Dallon said unsurely.

“And I thought it was crazy that she would expect him to move for her, but after everything that’s happened, after having been in a committed relationship and falling in love, I kind of get it, in a way. If you love someone— like, you really love them— then they’re your home. And I’m gonna hate leaving this place, I realized that yesterday too, looking at our new home and trying to think of how to decorate so that I don’t get scared in the middle of the night from sleeping somewhere unfamiliar. And I think that for a while I’ve been stressed about how I fit in this whole equation. But I’m not moving for you. I’m not following you. I’m just going to be where I feel the most at home.”

Dallon lowered his controller to his lap and paused the game, getting up to sit beside him. He pressed his palm to his cheek and turned Brendon’s face toward him to press their lips together, slow and sweet and gentle, and Brendon smiled to himself when Dallon pulled away, nodding carefully like he was taking in the moment. “I think you and I are really good at knowing how to keep each other safe.”

Brendon set his controller down and reached up to stroke Dallon’s cheek with his index finger knuckle. “I think so too.” He swung his right leg over Dallon’s left, linking them together and pulling him close. “Can I tell you something?”

Dallon nodded, sliding his fingers into the spaces between Brendon’s. “Always.”

“I’m scared. Cause moving in together is like... a really big deal. And I love you and I wanna live with you but what if...” He paused. “I was just thinking about what we talked about yesterday.”

“I worry about it too sometimes, you know.” Dallon admitted, and sometimes Brendon wondered. “I know I seem like I have it all together but I don’t. I’m scared and insecure and sometimes I wonder if this will last but... you and I, Brendon, we work well together. And I know this might just be a high school relationship but we’re moving on to something so much stronger.”

He nodded, letting his fingers trail over Dallon’s wrist idly. “Yeah, we are.”

Dallon sighed, ran his fingers over Brendon’s skin and let himself think about how much stronger that had gotten, too, after so many things tried to break it. “Do you remember when I went to the psych ward that weekend? After we fought?”

Wordlessly, Brendon nodded, hated to think of it but knew he should, anyway. “Uh-huh.”

“I talked to my therapist. My old one, when I spent a month there after I tried to kill myself. I told her about us, and how I was scared to let you in completely. Because I felt like, even though I knew that I was in love with you, I was still scared. And I don’t know why, I don’t know how to explain it, but I always had trust issues. I knew I could trust you but it felt... weird. Having someone I knew I could trust. It was like I kept myself at a distance because I wanted to protect my heart. I didn’t realize until recently that the way to protect my heart is holding you against it.”

Something settled in Brendon’s stomach. The feeling of comfort, knowing that he wasn’t the only one who was terrified. Knowing that Dallon was on that level too, not knowing how to keep himself safe but desperately wanting to. He leaned in to press a kiss to his lips, not knowing exactly what to say: sometimes it was like words could never do him justice. He just tugged him closer like suddenly it was all he needed. It felt like the two of them were the only thing in the world that made any sense to him.

Dallon pulled away slowly, breath warm on his lips. “Living together is a big deal, Brendon, but I think that maybe it means that we’re doing okay. Maybe we don’t have to worry as much as we think we do.”

“I think you’re right.” Brendon nodded, and suddenly it felt so much clearer. Like knowing Dallon had his doubts too left him easier to trust. He had so many reasons to trust Dallon. He had so many reasons to trust himself, too. “Still, I’d like to go to New York. See what all the fuss is about.”

Dallon laughed, cupping his cheek with adoration and leaning in to get his lips because sometimes that had to be enough. “We’ll go together, baby. One day, we’ll go together.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Brendon grinned, and he always liked the idea of having something long term to look forward to, anyway.


	71. Chapter 70: Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut featuring a poem I wrote that I really like :)

Brendon poked at the corner of the page aimlessly while his eyes flickered over the passage he was reading, too intrigued to look away even when Dallon hummed to himself from the head of Brendon’s bed. The house was oddly quiet, a strange occurrence that happened once in a blue moon. Matt and Mason were working, as were his parents, and Kyla was babysitting Luca while Kara was out running errands. Brendon was used to the chaos but he preferred the peace, especially when he was just sitting there reading with Dallon just across the room. They were good without words, sometimes.

Psychology was interesting. Brendon knew that it was, but after he’d gotten the textbook from Dallon’s mom he found himself wanting to learn it more and more. He had been reading about personality traits and how they were sorted into five categories but when he turned back to look at the chapter index, he saw something about sexual motivation and... well, he was drawn to it. Brendon was always one to try and learn more about the things that confused him.

When he completed the module he flipped the book shut and pushed himself up to stand. Dallon didn’t look up from his sketchbook but he quirked an eyebrow to acknowledge Brendon’s presence.

Brendon climbed onto the bed and then onto Dallon, straddling his lap and leaning in close to brush his nose against the slope of his cheek. Dallon’s hand slid up Brendon’s side like it were innate. “Hi.” Brendon pulled away to bump his nose against Dallon’s, soft and slow and still not as much contact as he’d like.

“Hi,” Dallon smiled up at him, cheeks a warm pink and eyes fixated on Brendon’s. He grabbed his sketchbook from in between their stomachs and tossed it onto Brendon’s side table as he whispered, “you have no respect for creative reverie.”

Brendon giggled, but as Dallon accepted the weight of the boy on his lap he figured that the contact was not unwelcome. “Sorry. Just wanted to talk.” He hummed, though talking wasn’t the main event he had in mind. Dallon raised an eyebrow as if to ask what about, so Brendon hooked a finger over the neckline of Dallon’s shirt and tugged. Flirting, because he was finally learning how. “So... I was just reading about sexual motivation in the textbook and, well, would you look at that. I’m accidentally sexually motivated.”

Dallon’s eyes flickered downward and then back up to meet Brendon’s big brown ones, squinted suggestively but still holding that essence of boyish guile that lived in the sparkle in his eye and the tilt of his smile. “Sexual motivation, huh? Tell me about it.”

He tilted his head idly and continued to tug at Dallon’s shirt’s neckline, eyes wandering from Dallon’s to everywhere else. His jawline, his lips, the blush on his cheeks and the way he was smiling at Brendon like he really had something to say. He loved when he smiled at him that way. “Well, I was reading about how there are four stages of sexual responding. Right now I’d say we are experiencing the excitement stage.”

Foreplay, right. He got that. Who knew psychology could be so interesting? “Oh, I’m excited alright.”

Brendon grinned at the insinuation and sat up just a little, trying to hide his excitement. “And then there’s the plateau phase, we’ll get there, and then the orgasm, my personal favorite, and the refractory period isn’t hot so let’s not talk about that.”

Dallon laughed and brought his hands up to rest on Brendon’s shoulders. “Look at my boy, being all educated.”

Brendon smiled in between rosy cheeks, heart beating excitedly against his chest. He was Dallon’s, as long as he’d have him. “And then I was reading about hormones and the external stimuli that arouses us. And how our brain is the most significant sex organ cause imagination is key. And then I imagined us, and, well. Textbooks don’t lie.”

Dallon half smiled in amusement, running his hands all over Brendon’s body like he just couldn’t wait to get to it. Brendon arched into his touch, felt blood rushing through his body as Dallon’s hands settled on his chest. “Anything else?”

He nodded promptly. “Plenty. I also read about wet dreams and sexual fantasies.”

Dallon’s eyebrow went up in an arch. “Yeah?”

Brendon smiled, trying to keep a straight face though they both knew what they were thinking. “Yeah. It’s fascinating stuff, really. Maybe you and I can talk about it over coffee sometime.”

“Funny.” Dallon whispered with a sultry smile before his lips brushed over Brendon’s cheek, and Brendon giggled softly as Dallon pushed a hand into his hair. “You know, I’ve been looking forward to getting to do this with you again.”

Brendon could feel hot arousal tug somewhere deep in his stomach as he let his fingers brush the back of Dallon’s neck when he leaned in close to press a kiss to his chin mindlessly. “I don’t blame you. With the kind of sex we have, I’m surprised we don’t do it every goddamn day.”

Dallon tugged him closer, chests pressed together and his face so close that Brendon could feel his eyelashes brush his temple when his eyes fluttered shut. “Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, kitten.” He breathed in his ear, soft and slow and so damn wanton. Brendon let his mouth fall open and a breathy laugh escape, the fingers holding his waist tightening. “I’m gonna bring my A game.”

“Well, what we’ve done was pretty damn good for your B game.” Brendon teased as his fingers went to tug at Dallon’s collar.

“Wait, wait.” Dallon stopped him suddenly and Brendon pulled away to look at him with caution. “Your dinosaurs are watching us.”

Brendon turned to look behind him at the collection of dinosaur figures sitting on his windowsill. He never had the heart to get rid of them, they were an important remnant of his childhood, but he couldn’t help but laugh before he turned back to catch his lips in a kiss. “Well, maybe I’m an exhibitionist. Maybe they’re a little freaky.”

Dallon accepted the kiss but rolled his eyes as Brendon began to slide his fingers up in his hair, loving extremities weaving with messy brown locks. “Please, if they weren’t such prudes maybe they wouldn’t have gone extinct.”

Brendon unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt, frowning like he disapproved of the response. “They didn’t go extinct because of lack of reproduction, they went extinct because they were hit by a meteor.”

He slid his hands down his waist and started to tug at the hem of his jeans, he had other plans for them and talking wasn't a part of that. “Okay, Brendon, not the hot issue here.”

Brendon pulled away and quirked an eyebrow while Dallon’s fingers went to unbutton his jeans languidly. “So what is the hot issue?”

He unzipped his jeans and trailed his fingertips along the hem of his boxers, teasing. “You, duh.”

He gave him another incredulous look, and Dallon didn’t stop moving. “Did you just call me an issue?”

“I was kind of focused on the hot part.” He leaned down to press a few kisses against his throat, soft enough to make Brendon throw his head back and sigh dreamily. He let Dallon tug his jeans down over his thighs, revealing his pale yellow boxers underneath the black denim. Dallon gingerly ran his fingers over the fabric, enamored, and Brendon blushed. Dallon stopped for a second, motions paused and eyes wary. “To be clear...”

“We’re having sex, yep.” Brendon nodded vigorously and moved a hand up to slide into Dallon’s hair again. “So, hey...”

Dallon mindlessly pressed a lazy kiss to Brendon’s neck, over his throat, on the side, up to his jawline. “Hm?”

“Do you have any kinks?” He asked, and Dallon pulled away to look at him. “We never talked about it. You know mine. I wanna know yours.” He leaned in to plant a kiss to the bridge of his nose. “You always take such good care of me. Let me take care of you.”

“Well, I would be stupid to deny you the pleasure.” Dallon smiled hazily as his hand moved teasingly over Brendon’s abdomen, right under his sweatshirt and over the hem of his boxers. “Um... I like when you bite my neck. Like, a lot. Mark me up. Hard to hide. I think it’s really, really hot.”

“Yes, sir.” He whispered sultrily, tugging Dallon’s zipper down with a playful smirk on his face. Dallon leaned in to catch his lips in a transient kiss as he shifted his hips upward, and Brendon began to tug his jeans down before Dallon slid his hand over Brendon’s stomach. His skin was hot beneath his sweatshirt, tingling with excitement. Dallon was smiling to himself, palming Brendon slowly, deliberately, with a hint of an ulterior motive.

"Okay." Dallon breathed, and Brendon nodded as he moved his hands around too much, scratching at the back of his head, pushing his fingertips into his hair, thumbing his earlobe. “You’re gonna finger yourself for me. That okay?” He asked sweetly, like they weren’t talking about Brendon putting himself completely on display, exposing himself, being completely vulnerable. Like he wasn’t asking Brendon to fuck himself in front of him.

Fuck.

Brendon nodded, submissive to a fault, and Dallon smiled with pride in some twisted irony. Dallon tugged at the hem of his boxers and glanced up at him suggestively, an eyebrow raised high. Brendon’s heart was pounding, cheeks flushed red with embarrassment and just the slightest bit of fear, and Dallon was expecting him to just cut open his chest and let him in. He’d done it a million times before, day after day, each time letting him crawl in deeper, get dirtier. But this was probably just about the dirtiest he could get right now.

Dallon’s fingertips smoothly slid underneath the hem of Brendon’s underwear and tugged them down, past his thighs, already quivering with desire. Brendon shifted, let Dallon work at removing his boxers and jeans until they were cast aside and Brendon was sitting bottomless on his lap.

Slowly Dallon took Brendon’s hand and placed his index finger against his mouth. Brendon swallowed thickly, could only watch as lush, pink lips opened to take the digit in his mouth sensually. Brendon blinked, taking in the scene in front of him, but Dallon’s features read dominance. He just stared, mesmerized, as Dallon began to suck on his finger. Ran his tongue over it slowly, hot and wet.

He reached over to pull open Brendon’s side drawer and dug his hand in before he returned with a condom, thank God Brendon had kept them in there, and tossed it aside on the bed for later. “D’you have lube, baby?”

He played it back, buying the condoms, smiling nervously at the cashier, getting home and throwing out the box and shoving them all in his side drawer. They’d only ever slept together at Dallon’s house, the condoms were more of a precaution. But... “No, fuck, I— I forgot.”

“That’s okay, we’ll accommodate.” Dallon tangled a hand in Brendon’s hair without missing a beat and tugged on it as he pulled him closer, close enough to press their lips together.

Brendon moaned into the kiss and Dallon's tongue pushed at his bottom lip until his lips parted to let him in. Brendon tilted his head to the side, made a little noise of content into the kiss, held his saliva coated finger out in front of himself awkwardly because he didn’t know what to do with it. Dallon pulled away, Brendon’s bottom lip in his teeth.

Holding his wrist so he could feel his pulse quicken, quicken, thumping fast under his skin, Dallon carefully guided Brendon’s hand downward, eyes dark as they watched him. Brendon glanced up at him, eyes wide with disbelief, but Dallon just nodded and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Brendon tilted his head innately at the touch, eyes fluttering shut, as Dallon leaned in and kissed his face. His nose, cheek, chin, brushing his eyelashes against Brendon’s skin and bumping his nose against the boy’s. All Brendon could do was sigh in exultance until he felt his finger press to his entrance.

He barely processed what he was doing, exposing himself and letting Dallon see something that nobody should ever invade, him and himself only. But he was Dallon’s and Dallon was his. They exceeded personal boundaries, and, well... he didn’t have to think. He didn’t think. He just shifted so that his guided hand could fit comfortably in between his parted legs and pressed his forefinger to his entrance. And he needed the touch so badly, how long had it been, how long were his fingers? Not as long as Dallon’s. Not as good. But still, it was something. He needed something. Anything.

With Dallon’s hand still holding his wrist, he pushed his finger in like Dallon had done to him quite a few times before. But doing it himself was different with no prior experience. He wished he had now, but knowing that he was a virgin to fingering himself was getting him hotter and making Dallon lick his lips in a way that drove Brendon crazy, when he found it in him to open his eyes.

“Oh,” Brendon moaned when he shifted his finger around a little. He tried to pick up on what Dallon had done to him before, teased his entrance and moved slowly in and out, and he could feel Dallon’s breath on his neck when he began pressing tiny kisses to his skin, over the collar of his sweatshirt.

He could feel Dallon’s left hand on his upper back, holding him close as a prurient Brendon gyrated his hips on the single extremity. “Tell me you do this when I’m not around. Drive me crazy.”

Brendon shook his head. He’d never... he swallowed thickly. He’d never done this. “I’ve never...”

Dallon pulled away and ran his eyes over the sight in front of him. Sweat on Brendon’s face already, white sweatshirt, dark hair hanging in his eyes. Dallon shook his head slowly, disbelieving, as he leaned in to press their lips together.

“You look so beautiful like this, kitten. If only you could see yourself.” He whispered, breath hot against Brendon’s mouth. It occurred to him then that he may not be able to see it himself but Dallon could see him. Sitting there on his lap, exposed, with his finger inside of him and caution thrown to the wind. It burned a little but Brendon had felt it before, more vigorously, with longer fingers than his own. This was okay. This was great. Dallon was right, it was a good way to explore his own body. Fuck. Why hadn’t he done this a year ago?

He pushed his finger deeper, so desperately needing to feel something inside of him, but it was small and not enough. He needed more. Dallon held his waist, pushing his sweatshirt up to get a feel of his soft skin underneath it, and Brendon’s body jerked a little as he asked a hushed, embarrassed, “I... I need... can I...?”

“Add another?” Dallon asked in almost a cooing voice, watching Brendon’s eyelashes flutter against his burning red cheeks, flushed and wanton. He nodded, stomach taut and body quaking, and Dallon hummed the affirmative. Brendon pulled his fingers out, a whine escaping his bitten lips, and as he opened his mouth to cover both fingers in saliva once more, Dallon took them in his instead. They were so far beyond boundaries, and Brendon was shaking too hard to care.

Brendon reached down again, hesitating, once Dallon had given his hands back. Only when Dallon gave him an encouraging smile did he rub both fingers at his entrance to help with the friction before he pushed them both in. His muscles were quivering, but they wanted— needed to be touched.

“Crook your fingers.” Dallon instructed, so an obeying Brendon did as he was told.

Two fingertips pushed in deeper and deeper until— oh, fuck. That was the spot. Fuck. That— Brendon moaned, high pitched and girly, a burning sensation circulating in his veins, and Dallon breathed out in amusement as the boy began to grind down. It was hard to penetrate deep, a strange angle for the muscles to grip, and Dallon let out a little laugh, leaning forward to bump his nose against Brendon’s chin to get him to tilt his head upward.

Dallon took a bite at his neck. “So this is...”

Brendon breathed out unsteadily, body shaking as he pushed his fingers in, out, in, in deeper. “The plateau phase. Stimulation.”

“Hm.” Dallon hummed with intrigue, a bit too sinister. Just as Brendon had gotten used to his own finger inside of him, Dallon reached down to push his finger against Brendon’s, slick with Dallon’s spit.

And without warning, he shoved his index finger in beside Brendon’s two, and he let out another sudden moan because fuck, that hurt, but the burn was good. Dallon pushed in deep, deeper than Brendon could have on his own, like he’d done in Brendon’s room a couple of months prior. Except slower, sweeter and more saccharine. He only leaned in to capture Brendon’s lips in a kiss when he began to let out a whimper. He’d never taken three fingers before, but now here he was, being spread open as they fingered him together. A team effort.

White heat gripped onto his entire body, engulfed in pleasure, veins scorching with amatory and heart pounding in his chest. Dallon nodded in encouragement as he whispered sweet words in Brendon’s ear, watching him roll his hips and accommodate to the rhythm of Dallon’s thrusting. Brendon leaned forward to rest his head on Dallon’s shoulder, euphoria rattling through him, and all he could do was bite down on Dallon’s collarbone so that he wouldn’t moan too loud, hard enough to make Dallon grunt under his breath.

Brendon’s hips shifted as he tried to find that spot again, lost in the feeling of exhibitionism when he remembered that Dallon was watching him, experiencing this with him, feeling him too.

“That’s my baby.” Dallon whispered as Brendon squirmed against their fingers. Brendon let out a little mewl as he held onto Dallon’s shoulder with his free hand, a burning desire circulating in his abdomen as his fingers and Dallon’s pushed in further, his smaller than the latter’s, but just as prominent inside his body. He could feel every digit, every inch.

Brendon rolled his hips down against their fingers, moving smoothly together, testing angles to see what he could try on his own when he wasn’t quite in the spotlight. Dallon curled his finger just then, in a perfect motion that touched the perfect spot, and Brendon’s body jerked upward before he pushed himself down onto the three extremities, begging for contact. “Oh, god. Oh fuck, Dal— fuck. Oh.” He rushed out, managing to muffle his moans with his mouth on Dallon’s shoulder.

His muscles burned, spasmed, clenched. He was on edge; he could feel it. Dallon’s finger and his own trying to chase it. He was growing sensitive, his neck sore and his body even more so, but he didn’t care. Dallon, straining against his jeans, waiting. Brendon was afraid that he himself wouldn’t be able to wait.

“Dallon.” He whispered frantically, digging his fingertips into Dallon's shoulder in warning. “Dal, I’m gonna come.”

“Not yet, baby.” Dallon hummed, taking position of the boss, as per usual. He slid his finger out of a needy Brendon, prompting the desperate boy to do the same, whimpering at the loss.

Brendon raised his hips to give Dallon room to tug his jeans and boxers off all at once, and Brendon tugged them down his calves before he sat back down on his thighs, bare skin on bare skin. Brendon’s mind was on automatic by now. He took his length in his hand and leaned in to press a kiss to his collarbone, where his fingertips had bruised just a moment ago. Dallon found the condom somewhere in the folds of the blanket to his right and handed it to Brendon.

“Put it on me?” Dallon requested as he and Brendon met halfway for a kiss. Brendon nodded, what else could he do, and slowly tore open the wrapper. Dallon began to litter kisses on his cheek, jawline, the side of his neck, cupping his face in his hands and pulling him closer. Brendon removed the condom from the wrapper and rolled it on with ease. He leaned in with an arm hooked around his neck and placed his lips against his ear, feeling Dallon’s hands grip his waist like it were second nature.

With his free hand he began to stroke, and he swore he heard Dallon swallow as he parted his lips to find the shell of Dallon’s ear with his lips. He bit down gently and Dallon gasped, taken by surprise, as Brendon shifted to be closer, his hand moving up into Dallon’s hair. He slid his fingers into it and tightened, trying to hit every base, and when he knotted his fingers into the locks and tugged, he could feel Dallon’s hands move from Brendon’s waist down to his naked thighs.

“Brendon...” He whispered like he just couldn’t believe it, like Brendon was so damn rare that it was impossible to find him. Brendon sat up on Dallon’s lap, heat stirring in his abdomen and body thrumming, thighs already quaking. He was going to die if he didn’t get there soon.

Brendon wrapped both arms around Dallon’s neck in a hug, his sweatshirt clad chest pressing against Dallon’s button upped one. Cheeks flushed, body trembling. He needed... “Fuck me.” He rushed out before his lips pressed against Dallon’s needily, and Dallon let out a noise of hunger as he gripped Brendon’s thighs and hoisted him up, their chests still pressed together, before he lined himself up.

Brendon moaned, there was that goddamn burn. He kept his arms around Dallon’s neck as he settled his hips, found a position to sit on his lap where Dallon could angle himself and thrust up hard, hard, harder. Brendon loved slow and sweet but a little bit of misdemeanor never hurt anybody. He locked his thighs, stole a kiss from Dallon’s lips, and nodded needily to tell Dallon to go. Be relentless. Claim him.

Dallon did. Holding him close and nipping at his jawline, he adjusted his hips and thrusted them upward, into the small boy with barely any slide and mostly friction. Brendon gasped, throwing his head back when his eyes fell shut. “Fuck, Dallon, that hurts.”

Dallon paused his thrusting to press a kiss to Brendon’s cheek, holding his trembling body against his own. “You okay, kitten? You wanna stop?”

“I’m fine. Don’t you dare stop,” Brendon shook his head and pressed their lips together hard, battling for dominance even when Dallon so clearly had that. Dallon shifted his hips upward, simply adjusting, and Brendon whined out, “slow, fuck. A little slower.”

“Got it.” Dallon slid his hands around as he worked himself all the way in, deeper than usual but careful, like he were afraid of hurting the fragile boy in his lap. But Brendon welcomed this newfound confidence in destroying each other’s bodies to get off on it. Brendon knew he liked a little bit of pain, but a little bit more...

Brendon giggled and took a bite at Dallon’s mouth when they found their rhythm. They could make sexual remarks, give bedroom eyes and touch each other sensually all they wanted. And they did, they were becoming a lot more comfortable doing it too. But when it all came down to it, they had fun together, and that was the most important aspect. They had a lot of fun. They could tell the truth and open up vulnerably and that was the most important part of it all. He was learning to trust again, and Dallon was giving him a reason to.

Brendon tilted his head forward to press his forehead against Dallon’s shoulder, digging his fingers into his upper back through Dallon’s shirt. Dallon’s hips rolled upward against Brendon’s, slow and saccharine, turning his bed into a sacred oasis. Breathing heavy, Brendon moved his head just enough to kiss his neck, sloppy at first but gaining vigor. He bared his teeth to dig them into the smooth pale skin of Dallon’s neck, motivated like a lusting vampire and thirsty for something, that was for sure.

Dallon moaned just then, loud, and it took Brendon by surprise. Dallon was always quiet during sex, but some triggers needed to be pulled. He threw his head back, eyes closed in euphoria, as Brendon marked up his skin relentlessly.

Brendon’s mouth moved like it were an entity of its own, trailing upward to find his ear again. He bit down on Dallon’s earlobe, hard enough to make him feel it, and Dallon exhaled shakily at the touch. Head back, eyes closed, trembling under Brendon’s body. And somewhere between him sucking on Dallon’s pale skin and pulling on his sweaty locks of hair did he realize that he wasn’t just doing this for Dallon anymore. He was doing it for himself.

Because the taste of blood lingered in his mouth from where he had broken skin, a little petal of red somewhere on the exposed sliver of flesh above the hem of Dallon’s half unbuttoned shirt. That metallic taste that made him twitch and return for more. He hadn’t known it until now, but the taste of blood— he was attracted to it. And now he had a perfect canvas in front of him, and all he wanted to do was bite it bloody and bruised and get himself off on it like a freak.

Their hips snapped together as Brendon started to grind down hard. He’d been on edge for what seemed like hours but just like every time, he needed a minute. A minute of calm with Dallon inside of him, a minute to feel him, recognize him, appreciate him. And they tried to get each other off, Dallon tried to push him over the edge, but as they kissed and grinned against each other’s lips and made love in a strangely new, connected way, Brendon thought of all the deeper moments.

The moments where he fell in love with Dallon all over again. Even when they were brutal and raw and heartbreaking. Sitting with him at the cemetery and sharing a past that seemed all too far away, only to have it creep back up like a revenant. Facing irrational fears with him in foreign waters to him. Screaming at him in the passenger seat of his car, where he realized that there were things he could never know and never understand. His willingness to confront that.

The night Dallon had spent by his side when some illegal act that was not so kind coursed through his veins. The morning he hugged him and drove him home, cried to himself and wouldn’t let Brendon see. How every single day for months after that, he held his hand and helped him brave the world. Facing his fears of judgment and ridicule, addressing issues and encouraging change. The way he cared for him and crossed boundaries in a refreshingly comfortable way.

The night that Brendon cried and screamed and tried to break them down only for Dallon to be there in their defense; armor up, weapons down. The way he stood defiantly even when Brendon could barely stand at all, the way he made promises Brendon knew would always be kept as they stood out in the pouring rain. Every single promise made over the course of a year, a year and a half, however long they’d been dedicated to each other without the other’s knowledge. Every promise, all tucked away for when Brendon needed that reminder.

“I don’t tell you this enough,” Brendon whispered against Dallon’s throat, “but I am so, so fucking thankful for you.”

“Brendon.” Dallon breathed out in disbelief, like just then he’d realized that he had the best thing in the world. And Brendon didn’t recognize it, but he really did. He took Brendon’s face in his hands and kissed him hard. Brendon’s eyes sparkled, his heart thumped sporadically in his chest, his body trembling. “God, I’m so thankful for you too.”

Only they could have a moment like that during a time like this. And Brendon laughed, laughed with Dallon because they were both thinking the same thing. But one thing he learned from Dallon was that when something was on your mind, you say it. He leaned down to bite at Dallon’s neck again, having to pause to smile every other bite, because sometimes he was just so damn happy.

The taste of blood on his tongue felt immaculate as he licked over the break in Dallon’s skin, and they were both well aware of the fact that Brendon was quite literally sucking his blood. Dallon held onto his upper arm, something of a warning sign, and Brendon’s tongue trailed over the forming bruise. Dallon hissed, letting his head fall back as he subconsciously reached up to tug his own hair, and all Brendon could do was smirk. The confidence to be real around each other was outstanding sometimes.

“God, fuck.” He moaned out loudly when Dallon rolled his hips into him, getting off on Brendon trying to mark him up alone. Brendon was just learning so much today. About his boy and otherwise.

He leaned in to bite the same spot behind Dallon’s ear that he always did when Dallon stroked him through his high. He moaned, whimpered, clutched at Dallon, scrambled for some purchase, let his eyes fall shut as he came hard into Dallon’s hand.

“Good boy.” Dallon whispered under his breath, praising him quietly as he began to come down. He was sensitive and sore but Dallon was so much more important than all that. And after feeling so full, he didn’t want to feel empty. He was so sick of feeling empty. “Should I...”

Brendon shook his head vigorously. “No, no, keep— fuck, please.” He begged incoherently, because fuck if he was finished. Brendon was a hell of a lot needier than that.

Dallon slowed down, however, suddenly too careful. “Are you sure...?”

“Yes, fuck.” Brendon moaned under his breath, tightening his grip on Dallon’s shoulder and steadying his rhythm once more, shaking post-orgasm but determined. Dallon looked him up and down but obeyed, gripping his hips hard. Parting his legs and moving Brendon up in his lap, closer, so close that Brendon could feel his heartbeat. Their lips met again, blush on their cheeks and smiles all over their features.

It was Dallon. It was all Dallon. His kindness and his intelligence, his talent and his regard for others, his smile and his comfort. But it was also the way he felt. Because he could do just about anything, dig his nails into Brendon’s skin or bite his neck or simply touch him, and Brendon was liquid.

“Fuck.” Brendon whined, and as Dallon was just about to come Brendon leaned down to bite at his neck again.

He moaned loud and Brendon met his thrusts until his stomach quivered and his body jerked and he felt himself release again, this time at the same time as Dallon. They locked eyes for a second before Brendon leaned in, and Dallon met him halfway in a kiss until they were melted against each other.

Spent and sticky and suddenly exhausted, Brendon hugged Dallon’s neck again and let him raise him off of his lap, laying Brendon down on the bed carefully and tugging the condom off before he grabbed a tissue to clean them both up. “How do you come twice in the span of like, two minutes?” Dallon asked breathlessly as he tossed the tissue into the trash.

Brendon shrugged lazily and breathed out with a smile, “I don't know. I think of you and it just... happens.”

Dallon laughed and shoved his shoulder as he laid down beside him, looking up at the ceiling. They were quiet for a minute, basking in the afterglow, and then, still out of breath, Dallon asked, “What’s your dream, Brendon?”

Brendon tilted his head toward him, chest rising and falling, perspiration on his upper lip. “Huh?”

“Your dream. You know that my dream is to go to art school and be a successful artist and, well, the gallery. We’ve talked about my dreams before but not yours. I just thought of that and I want to know. I want to know everything about you.”

Brendon looked up at the ceiling and breathed heavily as he let his mind wander. His dream? He’d never thought about it. He barely thought he would make it this far in life. He never planned to be a success, he never thought much about his future. What business did he have forming any dreams? Quitters and failures and boys of feeble worth didn’t deserve to have dreams.

He looked toward Dallon again, a luminescent glow on his skin and a look of admiration in crystal blue eyes. He wanted that look of admiration for a long, long time. So maybe he wanted to be around longer than he’d initially thought. He never had any ambitions or goals or end games, he just wanted to get by.

But was that enough?

He decided that it wasn’t.

“To be happy.”

* * *

Things felt different again.

Brendon sat in the passenger seat and played with the chain around his neck as he watched buildings pass between his house and school. It was coming to an end, a route he would travel less often after the next few weeks. The thought in itself was jarring.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking, and I have an idea.” Dallon said suddenly, making Brendon turn in his seat to look at him. “So, I know that I always said I wanted to take things slow. And I want to treat sex as if it isn’t everything. Because it’s not. I like you for you. But I like the way we’ve been lately. And I think that it might be a good idea to kind of... experiment this summer. Get to know each other. I mean, we’ll be living together this summer and I’ve been thinking that it would be a good opportunity to figure out what we like.”

Brendon smiled to himself and traced Dallon’s thumb with his own. The whole summer, just them. Shacked up in their new apartment, christening the sheets and learning a little bit more every night. Mapping each other out and spending mornings tangled up together until they found it in themselves to do it again again again. Shower, eat, and then repeat the day. It sounded blissful. He was leaving home, creating a new one with Dallon, the best thing for him to do was find comfort in the boy he would be spending every day with. The boy he hoped to be spending the rest of his life with.

“You don’t have to try and convince me to have sex with you, Dallon.” He laughed, and Dallon smiled sheepishly, knowing that he overthought it. That was what he did. What they both did. “Yeah. That’s a good idea. I like the sound of that. It’ll be a good summer. The summer of us.”

“The summer of us,” Dallon repeated, the words hopeful on his lips.

Brendon smiled, feeling the familiar touch of Dallon’s skin press against his, fingers inextricable like the souls they’d weaved together long ago. “And maybe we can figure out how to use concealer.” He added as an afterthought and Dallon laughed again, tilting his head to the side as if to try and hide the bruises.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His eyes oscillated between Brendon and the road. “And by the way, Bren, I seriously think you’re a vampire or something.”

Brendon laughed, tilting his head back to look at him. “How do you figure?”

“Well, you’re pale, you’ve got dark hair, so you’ve got the whole vampire look down. And you avoid going outside and the sun, pretty much. You like to wear all black, you like the darkness, and you literally sucked my blood, Brendon.” He smiled in amusement at the memory; Brendon forgot about that. “If that doesn’t say vampire, I don’t know what does.”

“Hey, sucking your blood doesn’t make me a vampire. It just makes me a sadist. Or a masochist, I guess. Besides, vampires need to drink blood to survive. And were born like, centuries ago. And I wear, like, pink just as much as I wear black. We need to get you some sexy teen vampire novels before you go around with these silly accusations.” He folded his arms when Dallon looked at him in slight disbelief, smirking at the playful banter. “No, you told me to mark you up so I did. Not my fault you bled like a bitch. Not my fault I got off on the taste of it.”

Admitting it felt surreal and it made him smile, thinking about how much he’d learned about himself. The past two years had been all about finding himself and while he never really found quite what he was looking for, he found things he was never expecting to find. Dallon had a hand in that; they were good together, even if they didn’t realize it.

“You’re seriously weird.” Dallon laughed to himself, and when Brendon pouted at him their hands found one another’s they were meant to. “I know I don’t say it enough, Bren, but I really love you.”

“Ah, shit. I have to tell you the truth.” Brendon sighed, putting on an uncharacteristically straight face, and when Dallon looked at him with clear worry, he added, “I was born in Transylvania in the sixteenth century-“

“Shut up.” Dallon shoved his shoulder in interruption as he let himself laugh, making Brendon laugh back as his heart beat hard in his chest. He was glad that he had been born in this century. This world. This city. Because all roads led to Dallon, and for that, he was grateful.

“I really love you too, you know.”

“Ah, good.” Dallon looked back to the street with a grin, and Brendon could only smile again as he went to fiddle with his seatbelt.

“So, hey. I have a question.” He scratched his thumbnail against the grooves of the seatbelt fabric and Dallon hummed, back to focusing on the road. “I was thinking. Um. You know how yesterday, we, um...” He twitched his fingers when Dallon glanced at him, confused by his silence and only smirking when he realized. “Me... together?”

“Yeah.” Dallon clucked his tongue; he definitely remembered. “What about it?”

“You told me last year that you... like, did it to yourself. So... would you, like, want me to... y’know, would you want me to top?”

Dallon shook his head, shrugging one shoulder half-heartedly. “I mean, you don’t have to. I like things the way they are. Maybe this summer we can experiment, switch things up, but I like how we do it. If you haven’t quite figured it out already, I like being in control. And I know you like being controlled.” His tone wasn’t degrading, just factual, and Brendon nodded in agreement. He did. No use in hiding something that was right there in plain sight. “Right. I just like to test things out on myself, is all. Try anything once. Some things, you try more than once. And some things you try on your adorable boyfriend because it’s too damn good not to.”

Brendon turned to smile at him. “So you get off on it too.”

“I’m human, Brendon! Of course I do. But if we’re being honest, I get off on doing it to you more. Or you doing it to yourself. I just... I like trying things out with you. Feel close to you.” He reached out a hand, and without hesitance Brendon took it. “But hey, if you ever wanna change things up or try anything out, then let me know! I’m willing to experiment.”

“I’m gonna keep that in mind, then.” Brendon decided, smiling in satisfaction as he leaned back in his seat.

* * *

Brendon watched Ryan sketch lazily in his notebook as Mr. McCracken droned on and on about something idiosyncratic and suggestive like writing being the nectar that feeds today’s youth or something in that vein, trying to keep from falling asleep. He couldn’t wait to graduate and get out of here; he’d have more interesting classes in college, where he was one step closer to the rest of his life.

“On Friday, you’re going to be performing your creative writing assignments. The sheet I’m passing out has all the directions, follow these and perform it for the class and you will pass your final project grade. This is to help you for the future, folks.” He dropped the paper on Brendon’s desk just as the bell was ringing, leaving it half crumbled in his hand as he stood up and followed Ryan to the door. “To get your creative juices flowing! Email me with questions, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Any chance I can pay you to do mine?” Brendon asked, half joking but not really, walking alongside Ryan in the hallway.

“Nice try.” Ryan shrugged, and, well, it was worth a shot. Dallon caught up to them through the traffic of people and wrapped an arm around Brendon, saying nothing but not having to. Brendon sighed and looped an arm around Dallon’s waist, resentful because he thought the last month was supposed to be the easiest.

“So? Any ideas?” Dallon asked; Brendon shook his head, didn’t want to talk about it.

“Just thinking about star clusters. We have a test in astronomy this block.”

“Hm. Good luck. Ryan?” He turned to his friend and Ryan shrugged, heading up the stairs on Dallon’s other side.

“Probably some metaphorical bullshit about my dad that everyone will think is fucked up and pity me for. Making people uncomfortable is just so fun. Later, gator.” He grabbed Brendon’s arm as they reached their floor and Dallon let him go, leaving a quiet Brendon in good hands as they headed to their classroom.

“Bye, boys.” Dallon called before he disappeared, on his way to art. Ryan waved and Brendon smiled over his shoulder, watching Dallon go. He wondered briefly if he could write about him, though he could never find the words in the first place.

Brendon sped his walk up to a jog to catch up to his boyfriend after school had ended, heading toward the parking lot where they tended to meet. Dallon turned to see him, half smiling, and Brendon forced a smile back as he made his way over to him. “Dal Weekes.” He greeted, extending his arms in exasperation.

Dallon took both of his hands in his and walked backwards towards his car. “Bren Urie, the object of my affection. Ride home?”

“Stay over for a little while?” Brendon asked and Dallon nodded, swaying his hips playfully as he enticed Brendon on the way to the car. Brendon half smiled but followed anyway, giggling when he almost bumped into some tenth graders lingering in the parking lot. “You’re a dork.”

“Whatever, Urie. You’re the dork. How was your day?” He turned to pull open the passenger seat door and circled around the car to climb into the driver’s side.

“It was a day. Glad it’s almost over.”

He looked up at him, thumbing through his keys. “Did anything happen?”

“M’just anxious.” He buckled his seatbelt, shrugging, and made himself comfortable.

He’d spent his entire last block trying to come up with some ideas, but nothing came to mind. He just ended up staring aimlessly at the page and embarrassing himself when he didn’t know the answer when the teacher called on him. He resented that his mind decided to quiet down only when he really needed it.

“I know it’s weird...” Brendon added suddenly, making Dallon peek up at him as he shoved the key into the ignition. “But I’ve never had to write something creatively for school before. I mean, I write sometimes, stupid short stuff and like, lines, but not full spoken word poems that I would feel comfortable performing to the class.”

Dallon shrugged. “Well, I’m not surprised. Our school’s curriculum is hardly prosperous. Writing is so beneficial but they don’t emphasize the importance of it. Instead we have to write essays on things that don’t matter, as if that’s what we’ll need anywhere down the line.”

“That’s the thing. I don’t know how to do it. I mean, spoken word poems are supposed to mean something. All the ones I’ve heard have, anyway. I don’t have good ideas or anything to say.” He sat up in his seat, tilting his head back in exasperation. “You write sometimes, right?” Dallon nodded. “Okay, so what do you do? What do you write about? What should I write about?”

Dallon looked back at him and Brendon felt the need to beg. “Everybody’s different, Bren.”

“I guess, but I don’t know. This is a big deal. This is my final. It’s worth a lot and I have a shitty grade and I want to do well and pass but I have nothing to say.”

"You have a lot to say!” Dallon argued, as the one who knew him best. “Just write about something that affects you. Something that influences your life in some way, or something you find hard to talk about. I don't know. To me, the best writing is the stuff that's hard. The stuff you have to pull out from deeper inside you. Art means something. Make it mean something to you."

Brendon squirmed around in his seat as Dallon pulled out of the parking lot to take him home, back to where he was sheltered. That past summer Dallon had told him that he was too boxed into his own little world. He didn’t believe it at the time, but he was right. His comfort zone was small. Cozy. He didn’t like to leave it.

“But what if I’m uncomfortable with that?” He asked quietly, hearing the words and his own patheticness.

“Uncomfortable doesn’t exist with art, Brendon.” Dallon answered, perspicacious to a fault, and Brendon sat back, stupefied. He didn’t understand creativity. He never really had. But then again he didn’t have much experience with it. He liked the idea of creating something that could just be his own. The prospect of creating a different world with just words. So maybe comfortability really did mean nothing. It was just a matter of imagination.

Brendon thought about what Dallon had said that night as he flipped through his journal, sliding one hand in between his thighs to warm it as he bounced his legs up and down. The air conditioner was blowing cold air right on him and he may have made a poor judgment call when he decided not to grab a pair of pajama pants after he’d showered. But if he got up and got pajamas, he’d get too cozy, and then he would get in bed and the assignment would never get done.

What was there to write about? He didn’t have anything interesting to say. He looked down at his pale yellow boxers and ran his hand up his thigh. He could write about sex. He knew enough about sex to write about it. It was a school assignment, though, and they probably didn’t want to hear about that.

He could write about love or family but all of that seemed so redundant, so he thumbed through the used-up pages and looked at the lines he’d scribbled down before. All of the words he’d conjured up seemed so trivial now that he actually needed to use them for something. His eyes scanned the filled-up pages and he frowned innately at the pencil marks, nothing standing out to him. Writing about his own naivety, his mistakes, or other’s that had affected him. He wasn’t sure if that was what Dallon meant.

He flipped the book shut in disgust and pushed it away from himself. One more look at it and he’d be tossing it out the window, so instead he grabbed his phone. His mind spun and his fingertips buzzed as he clicked that one familiar number and brought it to his ear, reminding him just how quiet his room had been. He wasn’t fond of the silence.

The line connected after only one ring. “Hey.”

“I’m trying to write my spoken word and I don’t think I’ve ever been so bad at anything in my entire life. I have no ideas. I just can’t formulate a coherent thought to write down for this God forsaken project. All I can think about is how cold I am and how badly I don’t wanna get up because if I get up and get pajamas then I’m gonna wanna get cozy and I’ll lay down and then I’ll fall asleep and I’ll never get this done.”

Dallon laughed softly on the other line. “You know, Bren, your mind is one of the most beautiful I’ve seen in my life.” He told him, and Brendon let himself smile. He could write about Dallon. The way they fell in love. That was a beautiful story. It would take more than just a few words, though. The novel of their love would be a million words. Thousands of pages. “But you think too much about things that don’t matter. Don’t freak out over one assignment. Just... let it happen.”

If only it were that easy. “If you write it for me, I’ll give you head.”

“Stop.” Dallon laughed, and, well. Brendon tried. “It’s not that serious, Bren, it’s just a little project. I know you can do it.”

“I suppose I have to.” He pouted, but still he stared at his journal like it was going to bite.

* * *

He was laying in bed one night that week, staring at the dinosaur holding a cake when it came to him. Motivation could strike at any time, he realized, as it was the middle of the night and all of a sudden he was itching to get the words out of his head and down on paper. It was stupid, he was drifting off to sleep and he was having one of those hazy half daydreams before he jolted up suddenly to grab his journal. He scribbled down a few different things and read them all again in the morning, picking and choosing what fit the assignment best.

“So I finished my spoken word.” Brendon brought up on the ride to school as he scrolled through his phone mindlessly. “I wrote a few things, actually. But I chose one and I don’t know how I feel about it, but I think it’s okay for the assignment. Kara read it and she thinks it was good.”

“I bet it is. You’re very talented. You’ve got a lot to say.” Dallon smiled warmly and Brendon did too; the compliments always eased his anxiety a bit.

He sat in his place in the back of the class that Friday, staring down at his paper and trying not to tremble. He never liked speaking in front of lots of people. Never liked sharing his thoughts or what he meant to be creative. He just wished he could turn it in on paper and never let it out.

“Brendon, you’re up.” Mr. McCracken announced, leaving him fourth to go. Brendon stood, gripping the paper tight, and walked with silent steps to the front of the room. He didn’t look at anyone. He didn’t let his voice waver. He stared down at his paper, printed in the dining room the night before as he practiced in the mirror, and the words seemed to say themselves.

I’ve spent too much time on time. I’ve spent days counting because it’s in my blood and I’ve spent nights worrying about time because there’s not enough of it but there’s just too much of it and how am I supposed to find who I’m meant to be when all of this time is suffocating me?

One, two, three. They all try to tell me who I am but I never feel it. I feel who I am and I am who I am and I can’t explain who I am because I hardly know myself.

Car rides are so long to a kid and when you’re in the car, you just want to get there. I used to sit in the backseat on Friday afternoons when my parents brought me to my favorite restaurant on special occasions. I spent time thinking about that car ride before I took it. I spent time counting clouds and watching the road and convincing myself that time didn’t really exist. That somehow there was a way to trick it.

Because car rides are long to a kid, and when I was seven years old I started to think about time and how if I pretended it wasn’t real, then it wouldn’t be. That if I closed my eyes and opened them, I would be there already. I never took the time to learn how it really worked.

I used to want to get there. Now I pray that the car rides will last forever because at least I can close my eyes and pretend I’m going somewhere better.

Everything belongs in a box because everything belongs in a box because everything— what do I label something without a face? What do I label me? What do I call myself when you ask me who I am? It’s hard to explain who you are when you don’t quite know yourself.

I’m not who you think I am, how can you think of me when I can’t think of me?

I’m in my own box and you are in a box and you are in a box and you are in a box and— I just can’t help it. It’s how the world makes sense. Why doesn’t the world make sense? When did it stop? Why did it—

In February I scared myself with a heart beating too fast and misplaced feelings. Labeled it wrong, labeled it right, we don’t talk about it much. I still smell paint on that shirt. In May I cried at the gravestone of a man I never knew. In June, I cried for myself. Two lost souls, one with a place on this earth and then me.

In July, I shared my body with a boy who kissed my neck and told me he loved me. That same boy lent me his heart in exchange for my own. He still carries it around in his back pocket. In August he promised to keep me safe, words that I hold close when I need them, and only then.

In October my heart broke three times in a row. Twice for him and once for me. My parents always taught me to put me first. I found my selfish repercussions and tried again.

In November my body was vandalized and whatever was inside of me spilled out onto the dirty tiled floors of the school bathroom. My heart felt like it didn’t want to be in my chest anymore, but how could I blame it? I wouldn’t want to be me either.

I left my own heart on the ground because I was scared to pick it up. It had betrayed me and my system and— my whole life I spent on time. I planned but learned too late that there is no planning for time when it can’t be tricked.

Time is a lost concept on me now. How could time be on my side when it never followed any of my schedules? Friends are on time. They know when they are wanted. But clearly not because even when I gave up on it, time kept haunting me.

I want control. I want to be able to control the ocean and the bend and break. I want to grab fire in my fists and have the earth in my hands but I’m just a boy. How does a boy get control? He puts everything into a box. He categorizes until he can’t and then he does again, again, again, until it’s stripped down bare and he’s got no idea where he started. The only problem is that when it’s unrecognizable, it has no face. And something with no face can’t be bothered to find a home.

I was taught that I can’t control change. I can’t talk to God and tell Him to slow things down or speed them up or do any favors because I’ve told Him that I don’t believe in Him. But He doesn’t believe in me either.

I was taught that I can’t control time. Time may be a lost concept but it’s still wringing my neck. When does time end? When does time stop? Why am I wasting my time talking about time when I could be wasting my time doing something else completely useless? It’s all useless. How do you measure worth anymore?

How do you measure the weight on your shoulders when you realize that the labels you gave the world are insignificant?

So where does it all add up? Where do I remember who I am without a system because that system’s been proven wrong, but then again so have I over and over but I’m fixated on sticking around. If time doesn’t make sense and we can’t control change then where does our control lie? Why does the world lie?

Time comes as a shock and time makes no room for control and time simply cannot be tricked. I never learned how to measure time. I never learned how to measure anything.

Time comes as a shock. So does the rest of this world. Like when the sun sets too early and leaves you in the dark or the secrets you tell when the rest of the world is asleep. When people touch you and the way you feel when they do. When you find friends in the strangest of places and fall in love with people you never thought knew your name. How do you measure those moments? Because it sure as hell isn't done with time. Nothing is done with time. I’m done with time.

Dallon sat transfixed among his classmates as Brendon stood awkwardly at the head of the class, rocking back and forth on his heels. Dallon snapped with everyone else and Brendon smiled, a blush on his cheeks, not used to the attention. It was something he’d written amidst of a few other drafts, but this was the one he liked the most for the assignment. Not too personal, but it said more than the words he used. The jumbled thoughts he never knew how to get out.

“Baby.” Dallon pulled him into a hug as they left the classroom together half an hour later, kissing the top of his head though they weren’t big on PDA. “My boy is so talented.”

“Stop.” Brendon shoved at him but grinned, blushing because he wasn’t used to the attention. “Yours was good too, you know. Maybe we’re like, a writing power couple. Are we a power couple?”

“Maybe so.” Dallon hung an arm around his shoulder and Brendon reached up to tangle their fingers together, grinning childishly. Dallon had always been a good writer. He’d written something littered with metaphors about his childhood and family and love, Brendon caught some references to him and maybe one or two to Ryan, though he may had been reading too far into it. Regardless, he liked Dallon’s writing. Wanted to read more of it, if he’d let him.

Later that afternoon he sat in his bed, playing with the thread of a throw blanket and watching Dallon sketch out a normal standard curve on the other side of the mattress. “Hey, Dallon?” He chimed suddenly, and Dallon looked up at him. “I, uh. I actually wrote something for you. It was too long to be a spoken word so I didn’t wanna perform it, plus it’s probably a bit too personal, but...”

“I would love to read it.” He closed his notebook over his pencil. Brendon sat up, he didn’t mean right now, but went to find his journal in his drawer anyway. He wrote it for him. He wanted to let him see it.

He flipped open to the last page he’d written in. Something he’d stayed up late to write, something that felt too close to his heart to share. But Dallon lived next to his heart. Everything he did was for him. “Here.” He said quietly, handing him the open book. Taking the opportunity to lie beside him, resting his head on his thigh.

“Thank you, babe.” Dallon whispered, and Brendon didn’t have to say a word. He just smiled, letting Dallon hold him close to his heart too.

* * *

I was born during a storm in April which was a bad omen though no one told me at the time. Rain in the desert is a cautionary tale. And I was one too, a warning sign, a yield sign, a child who ran from thunder though it was the first thing that greeted me. And they always say first impressions matter most which explained my fear for years and years, even beyond the tender age where I learned that fear is worth nothing when you don't know how to measure it.

I grew up scared but once it was of the things you always see on the news and then it was of not being who I wanted to be, of being someone everyone hated, of being me because that never seemed to be enough. I wanted to fit in but one day I saw the gulf between myself and others and gave up on trying because the bruises on my side were more of friends than my faith was anyway. I never needed any of them. I needed to cling to childlike innocence with the hope that I'd grow into it like you grow into hand-me-downs or too big features. I was so wrapped up in fairytales that I believed someone would sweep me off my feet and for long, so long, I couldn't find anyone strong enough to hold me.

And you read fairytales with your mother too, a baby under covers with a book as big as your heart though when you realized love was a daydream you tried so hard to find it to prove them all wrong. The only problem was that love was a daydream for a reason.

We accept the love we think we deserve so you didn't know if you could accept it, but I handed it all to you because I thought that was what you deserved. I just never left enough for myself.

Across town I see the hard recognition of the ghost of myself in my eyes. I never wanted to see him again, hiding in the corner uninvited. And I never wanted you to see him either, somebody I buried, but you spend so much time at the cemetery that he greets you anyway. And we get mixed up in our pasts but now I want to know the future. Give me a crystal ball or tarot cards because I know you used them once upon a time, trying to guess things you'll never know and still don't.

You spent weeks in the basement of your building with splintered floorboards and little gray mice who never sang or dressed you but you never minded, they were as real of friends as you could find when you resented all the others. And you meet with the devil for dinner and think that he's not so bad. He tells you what to do and you do it because you have a gun to your head and he screams in your ear but the gun is in your hand and it's not his fault, you're better off dead.

You lay on your back and stare at stars and stars and stars and none of your wishes ever come true. You step on cracks in the sidewalk to break the back of a mother who resents you unlike how you resent her, and live with regret when she hurts. One day you want that daydream but you breed violence instead. You grieve and you scream and you claw at gravestones and leave blood in your wake where it breaks your nails and your heart and your spine.

You smash your head against the wall of your bedroom and taste concussion but you cover it up with a painting you made at eleven years old, a shitty painting, one you aren't proud of but your mother would kill you if she knew. You still get headaches because you never got it checked. And your rosebud lips hug bottles of absinthe you buy with a fake ID because your Mormon mother doesn't drink but your first crush's big brother knows heartbreak. And I think alcohol tastes like nail polish remover, I drank it once on a dare, and it stings on my tongue and you drink it because you sting all over.

You get these rollercoaster emotions sometimes, like a Jupiter orbit or banging bruised knuckles on a shitty paperback copy of Romeo and Juliet because real love isn't like that, you know, you know, you don't know but you wish you could. And the blood on your hands doesn't belong to you, it's the blood of a boy you killed with bright eyes because they dulled and it's easy to kill something before it kills you.

You write suicide notes no one will ever read and you carry them in the back of your notebook when you bump into me for the first time. I see your eyes and you see mine, and I feel seen, and you apologize for shattering my phone but I broke it weeks ago when a boy shoved me into a locker because I was small and scared and wearing pink and boys in this part of town don't like that. But you smiled at me and I fell for you and that bubblegum mouth. And you fall for mine, and we walk circles around each other for years because we thought it was a myth until my red framed glasses saw your reflection in them and made a vow.

You fall in love with me the way galaxies are made and we crash and combust but it's pure and it's real and I dissect you like a frog in freshman biology when you left the room to throw up in the bathroom because you could never hurt a fly, just yourself, though I never learn how real you hurt until you carve your heart out and put it in my pocket. I never thought you'd destroy yourself for a boy but you've been full of surprises since I met you.

You have this scar on your chin and I never asked how you got it because your best friend told me broken glass was a bitch and not to ask, so many things I shouldn't ask, so many things I should. Blood and adolescence and rose petals bleach our flesh and we're happy, we don't even know what happy is but we think that's what we're feeling.

I find a bug bite on my elbow and you realize you never find a raw spot on your arm until it's itchy. And Salt Lake City is beautiful in August, the way mountains turn blue with the sky and your eyes and clouds that seem realer than they do in the desert. In the middle of the night you give me a five dollar bill and bet that you'll marry me, and I had a few sips of sweet wine and I'm laughing but I'm willing to lose that bet.

Your hand is bigger than mine but it envelops me like the waves on that beach we claimed in California when saltwater slipped down pale skin. A whole summer under the sun and it never kissed you because your lips taste like poison but the good kind, the kind that makes you dizzy, the kind that eats you alive and consumes you and breathes you in. And I do too because I don't know how not to, because I trust your mouth more than I trust my own despite your old lies that somehow still find you.

You eat your cereal with chocolate milk and pour sugar into it anyway despite the fact that your mother hates when you eat unhealthy. You hate the way you look in glasses because you think they make you look childish but I think it's because they hide your ocean eyes. At a young age you fell for real love and vowed to find it when you saw it in your parents, never having seen them fight because that exists, somewhere, real love, though it took you no time to find it. You're still looking for it in me. And I pray some nights you do, and I pray some mornings you have, and I hear you humming in the shower and I watch that sliver of your stomach underneath your shirt when you get ready in the mornings and I love you.

We feel like a shipwreck sometimes, sweeter goosebumps praying on our skin because honey drips from your lips onto mine and you taste like heaven when I'm on my knees not praying. And your skin feels like a home we've made of math class doodles in number two pencil dug out from the bottom of our backpacks and chlorinated water spilled from your lungs, secrets that we find remedied in meadows that aren't really meadows. In an old still life and a baby stuffed sheep and carbonated soda sunsets. In youth and innocence and a heart I still own of yours but never gave back, because maybe I'm selfish or maybe I need control or maybe I need to lose it.

But I wear your heart like the fragile chain around my neck because I'm yours like the scar on your chin and the red flowers you buy each spring because they're his favorite color. And I'm yours in the way you dance in your kitchen and slip in your socks like you're clumsy like me, and I'm yours in the way you sleep in on the weekends. And again again again. Crushes are crushes until you dig your teeth into them and make them bleed. And you mix it like a death wish but we wish for something better, under plastic stars that become real to us because they're brighter in the desert.

I was born in an April storm, and you were born a miracle. And you swear you'll find real love, and I swear to a God I don't know if I believe in, and deep in my veins I make this promise I know I'll keep and you write vows on my untainted flesh and I like you until I love you, and we don't know about fairytales anymore but we leave our concern at the door of our future home, because you taste like freedom and I bite your lips and we're burning airplane wings and angel lashes and butterfly kisses, you're mine and I tattoo my name on your thigh with my teeth and you love me too.

I was born in an April storm, and you were born a miracle. And my heart races when I look at you, and I'm not sure anymore if fairytales are real but the heat comes up from the asphalt and it's honest, we're honest, April storms are routine and you're still a miracle and I love you, more than I should and more than I know how, in a daydream you created at age five when the world was pure and before I taught you love. And you still daydream, and you smile, and you hope and I do too and we don't need fairytales because we grow and we learn and we write our own.

I was born in an April storm, and you were born a miracle.


	72. Chapter 71: In Sync

Dallon pushed open the door and looked around, he knew Brendon’s shift was right about now, he had to be around here somewhere, as people bustled in and out on a busy afternoon. Brendon slipped out of the kitchen with a tray of plates in his hand and he seemed to catch sight of Dallon when Dallon caught sight of him, nodding his head upward in a greeting. “Hi, baby.” Brendon greeted as Dallon made his way to the counter, getting a quick kiss on the cheek because Brendon was in a rush. “I’m sorry it’s so busy. There’s a thirty minute wait time. Go back into the kitchen, we’ll make you something. Tell my dad.”

Brendon disappeared to the opposite side of the diner and Dallon blinked after him, amused and enamored, as he did as he was told.

“Hi, Dallon!” Brendon’s father greeted, flipping pancakes at the stove. Dallon half smiled, nodding a head at him, peeking over to see what looked good today. “Whatcha doin’ back here? Am I finally putting you to work?”

Dallon scoffed and he smiled, knew it was too good to be true. “Brendon said I can come back here to eat.”

“Sure, give me a minute. I’ll let him take your order.” He nodded toward the entrance of the kitchen and Dallon hopped up to sit on the counter in the back, swinging his feet idly and watching Brendon’s father work magic.

Brendon returned to the kitchen with empty plates and dumped them in the sink, going to press a kiss to Dallon’s cheek. “Hi, babe, what do you want? We’re making some bomb ass chocolate chip pancakes, if you want that. They’re really good.”

“Sure.” Dallon nodded, he always let Brendon decide for him, and stopped him to give him a proper kiss. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Brendon cooed, and his dad make a gagging noise at the stove that made Brendon roll his eyes because really, they weren’t that bad. They had just found this honeymoon stage again, and maybe it was their moving in together soon, or getting back together, if it could qualify. But Brendon giggled and went to scribble down Dallon’s order before he disappeared again, off to clear some tables because in the spring they always got a little busier.

“Hey, so.” Dallon started awkwardly without warning when he and Brendon’s father were alone again. “Are you okay with me living with Brendon?”

Brendon’s father looked at him for a minute, observing, and Dallon stared back at him hopefully. And Dallon was harmless, just this lanky boy with skinny jeans and button-up shirts and big eyes that made him look as innocent as Brendon saw him. “I like you, Dallon.” He said, not answering the question, but Dallon was pleasantly surprised. “I mean, as a person and for my son. I think you’re really good for him. And he’s happy with you.”

“That’s good to hear,” Dallon said, unsure of what that really meant.

“You two moving in together isn’t just a Mormon manifestation of guilt, I assume? That you want to live with him because it will make you feel better about having sex?” He asked, and Dallon was taken aback. He must had looked it, too, because he added, “I mean no offense by this, Dallon, I’m religious myself. But I know your beliefs, and I assume you two are having sex.”

“We are. But no, that’s not what us living together is about. And I’m not offended. I would probably ask the same thing.” He offered, and he meant it. He was just looking out for his youngest. Dallon couldn’t blame him. “I was raised in the church, you know, and...” He brushed a hand through his hair, clicking his tongue in thought. “I don’t believe in sex before marriage. Or, at least, I didn’t until my dad died. And I kind of stopped following my religion for a while. That’s when I started to drink coffee, and lie, y’know, the little things. The things we aren’t allowed to do. But I still read scriptures every day. I still tried to go to church. Because it’s a part of me. It always will be. And I bend the rules, but sex... it’s a big deal to me. And I can honestly tell you that if I didn’t think I was going to marry Brendon, then I wouldn’t have ever slept with him. I made the exception of sleeping with him before marriage because I know he’s gonna be the only one.”

Brendon’s father smiled, and Dallon realized he overshared, he always tended to do that when he was in an awkward conversation. But he nodded, taking it all in, and said finally, “I’m okay with you moving in with Brendon.”

“Thank you.” Dallon nodded back, and Brendon returned to dump a few dirty dishes in the sink, patting Dallon’s thigh as he went and not catching the conversation.

“Daddy, that guy who always freaks out about his toast is here. Can I spit in his food?”

“No, Brendon, you can’t spit in his food.” His dad sighed, turning to look at Dallon with a roll of his eyes and making Dallon smile, because he loved this family, he loved them, and he couldn’t wait to be a part of them forever.

“So if I complain about my toast, I’ll get my food spit in?” Dallon chimed in, smiling in amusement.

Brendon nodded matter-of-factly. “Company policy.”

His father rolled his eyes. “No it’s not.”

“It totally is.” Brendon mouthed, and grinned at him when Dallon smiled again. “Alright. Dr. Pepper. I’ll go grab you some. Make yourself at home.”

Dallon only nodded as Brendon escaped again, in a rush like he always was when they were busy. But still he smiled, watching his boyfriend work, because Brendon had no idea that he had made himself at home a long, long time ago.

* * *

“Morning.” Dallon greeted Brendon’s mother as she nodded her head at him in a hello, finding him at the kitchen table early the next morning.

“Hi, honey.” She yawned, going to pour herself a cup of coffee from the pot Dallon had already made. “I didn’t even know you slept over.”

“Oh, I’m part of the family now.” Dallon wiggled his eyebrows and Brendon’s mom smiled at him fondly as she found the cream in the fridge. “Hey, um. I wanted to thank you for considering letting Brendon move in with me. I wanna develop some sort of individuality so I think being on my own for college will be good but if I’m being honest, living alone might freak me out. And I mean, if you don’t want us sharing a room then there’s another bedroom, and we can totally just be roommates if that’ll make it better.”

“I’m thinking about it, Dallon.” She assured him, and he tried to smile. He knew that had to be enough for now. “But for the record, I have no problem with you sleeping in the same bed as him. Or sharing a room. Or having sex. Brendon’s an adult now, I trust that he can make his own decisions. It’s not you I’m worried about.”

“What do you mean?”

She sighed, joining him at the table. “Brendon is a lot. I love him, and he’s come so far in these past few years, but he’s a lot. And I know that you’ve done a really good job at taking care of him, but then again it’s different living with him full time. I just want you to know what you’re in for.”

“Yeah, he’s a handful.” Dallon agreed, but with a smile. “And I’ve learned a lot about him lately. How he works. So I’m hoping that we adjust to living together easily.”

“I’m sure you will.” She agreed; she had seen them together, after all. She had seen the way they got along.

“Besides, I’m a handful too. We deal with each other. We like dealing with each other. It feels like someone gets me. It’s really rare for me to feel like that.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing. You balance each other out. I just want to make sure you’re ready.”

“I’m ready. I thought a lot about this before I asked him.” He promised. He’d made plans with finality in thought. This wasn’t impulsive. Not like a lot of things he did were. This was he and Brendon, and it was something he thought about thoroughly. “I love him. And I wanna be with him. But I need your blessing before he comes to live with me. That’s a commitment in itself.”

“I know, baby.” She pat his hand and he smiled; he knew he wouldn’t get a yes. Not right away, at least. But it was coming. He knew it was.

* * *

As they got closer to living together, the two had begun to live in sync. They brushed their teeth side by side in the bathroom mirror, got dressed together, picked out clothes, judged each other’s fashion sense but with no malice. They got used to doing everything together. It didn’t feel forced. Just comfortable.

“Should I start wearing my hair like this?” Brendon asked suddenly, laying a hand over the top of his forehead as Dallon turned to look. “With my bangs?”

“I mean, it makes you look younger, but that’s not a bad thing,” Dallon observed, reaching out to touch his face, and the way he cupped Brendon’s cheek just then was soft. Big brown eyes flickered, and Dallon whispered, “you’re adorable.”

“Stop.” Brendon punched him playfully in the chest a few times, giggling when Dallon pulled him into a hug. “You’re a dork.”

“You love me.” Dallon accused, and Brendon guessed he did.

“Shut up.” Brendon smacked his ass and pulled away to grin up at him, in a good mood for once. “C’mon, we gotta go.”

“You’re the one trying to change your entire look, weirdo.” Dallon looped an arm around his shoulder and followed him down the hall, to the front room where their backpacks rested against the wall. “Mom, we’re heading out.” He called, scooping up both of their bags.

“Okay.” She poked her head out of the kitchen, cleaning up after breakfast as Brendon accepted his bag, he could have picked it up himself but Dallon liked to do those things. “Dals, you have therapy after school.”

“Oh, I’ll ask my brother to pick me up.” Brendon smiled, tugging on his hand like they had this system down.

“And tomorrow you can come here and we can study for finals together.” He offered, as they were fast approaching, and Brendon nodded in agreement, hopeful for the end of the year. His grades had improved, he’d made up most of his work, was still trying to understand statistics but for the most part he was doing well. Better than he had been, at least. “I’ll see you after school.” He nodded to his mother and she said goodbye, letting them go.

Brendon led him to the elevator, fingers intertwined, pretending he lived there like he liked to do sometimes. It made him feel like an adult. He was coming around to that: feeling like an adult. Wanting to be one, anyway. At least more than he had. He figured that that was a step in the right direction.

Brendon sat in Ms. Kenny’s office that afternoon, listening to her advice on his end of the year anxieties when there was a knock on the door. Ms. Kenny looked up from Brendon’s eyes to see Dallon’s instead. “Hey.” Dallon greeted suddenly, poking his head in, and didn’t realize Brendon was in the seat until he looked to see if she was busy. “Oh. Hi, Bren. Sorry, your secretary said you weren’t busy right now. I wanted to talk to you. But I can come back.”

“Sometimes my weekly meetings don’t go through on the schedule. We’ll be done in a few minutes if you’d like to wait.” Ms. Kenny offered, gesturing to Brendon absently.

“No, it’s okay, I think I’m actually good for the day.” Brendon interrupted, reaching for his bag, and his counselor nodded while he slung it over his shoulder. “Thank you. I’ll see you next week.”

“Have a good week, Brendon.” She called after him, and he went to squeeze past Dallon but kissed his cheek as he did.

“You too. I’ll see you later, boyfriend.” He added, smiling up at his partner, and Dallon smiled back like an inside joke before Brendon went to return to class. They liked bumping into each other around sometimes; it reminded them that they lived in unison but had their own time, too.

“How’s he doing?” Dallon asked, nodding his head toward the door as he shut it, and Ms. Kenny closed her notebook with a smile.

“He’s doing so well. The past few weeks... I’m not supposed to talk about it with you but things are good right now. He’s making tremendous progress. I’m so proud of him.” She told him, and Dallon smiled to himself as he took a seat in front of her. “So what can I do for you, Dallon?”

“So, I’m trying to get a head start on my courses next year. Figure out what I wanna take, what my schedule will be like, how I can schedule work around it so I have money and still have time to myself, too. I know it’s a lot more difficult than high school but I’m worried about the workload. I wanna try to make sure I know what I’m getting myself into. Will you help me look at the course catalog and plan some classes to start off easy?” He requested, reaching into his backpack to get the course catalog. She stared at him for a second, not realizing she hadn’t come up with an answer, and Dallon raised an eyebrow, urged, “Will you?”

She startled. “Yeah, no, of course. I’m just...” She trailed off, because she didn’t know how to say it. That she was shocked. Proud of him. Two years ago Dallon didn’t want a future. Now he was trying to get a head start on it. “Here, let me see the catalog.”

“Okay.” He handed it to her. “I dog-eared the pages of the ones I think I wanna take.”

“Okay. Perfect.” She nodded, flipping to the first page. “Great. Let’s get into it.”

* * *

“Boyfriend?” Brendon mewled from under the covers later that evening, turning over to extend a hand to him. Dallon hummed from his desk, not bothering to look up from his laptop. “Can I sleep over?”

“Sure.” Dallon turned around in his chair to look at him. “D’you have pants here?”

“Yeah, I think I have a pair of yoga pants in the drawer. If not I just won’t wear pants.”

“On second thought, do that.” Dallon smiled when Brendon did too, stretching under the covers after having spent the better half of the afternoon barely moving.

“Hey, what did you have to talk to Ms. K about?” He asked when he remembered; it was always funny to run into Dallon at school because it seemed that they had spent so much time together, not planning it seemed so out of place. Like they were accidentally invading each other’s space, though after everything there wasn’t much room for space anymore.

“Oh, I was looking at the course catalog for next year and I wanted her advice on what classes to take first semester. I have no idea what I wanna do. We constructed a rough schedule for me before I have to register next month.”

“Wow. That’s so soon.” Brendon sighed, reaching out a hand. Dallon got up to join him on his bed, kneeling on the mattress beside him. It was soon. Very soon. A few years ago Dallon hadn’t even thought he’d be alive to see himself get into college. Let alone to have a good scholarship for art and a plan to move into a nice little apartment with his partner. “Are you scared?”

“No.” He arched into Brendon’s touch, holding his hand and sighing as he stretched. “I mean, it’ll be different, and maybe a little scary, but I know we’ll be okay. We’re doing it together, after all.”

“That’s true,” Brendon agreed, and quickly requested, “come lay with me. I’m sleepy.”

“If you insist.” He said instead of protesting, and Brendon figured he wouldn’t. It was one of those days. One of those months, really.

Dallon went to find a sweater in his drawer, to get out of what he’d worn to school, as Brendon observed. He watched the curve of his hips and smiled, thinking about their progress. Dallon’s progress, and how everything was so much better than it was. “You look good, Dal.” He complimented, and Dallon turned to look at him in shock. “I mean, your body. You look really good.”

“Thank you.” Dallon smiled back, dumbfounded, and went to pull on a sweater but looked himself over before he did. Brendon knew that he got to him sometimes, Dallon needed to hear it, and he smiled down at his lap thoughtfully because he liked to be the one to make Dallon happy. He felt really lucky in that regard.

“How was therapy?” He added conversationally and Dallon shrugged, going to sit on the edge of the bed.

“It was good. I like her. I think I’m gonna stick with her.” He put a hand on Brendon’s chest, shoved him down against the mattress insinuatingly, and Brendon laughed but complied. “She makes me think.”

“I’m not supposed to ask you what about, right?” Brendon asked, finding the back of his head to cradle as Dallon nuzzled his face in his chest. He shook his head, smiling, Brendon just loved to know everything, and he smiled back. “Okay, fine. I won’t ask. I wouldn’t mind if you told me, though. Just saying.”

Dallon traced shapes into his chest like a habit and Brendon stared at the ceiling, brushing fingers through his hair with the stupidest smile. “Yesterday we just talked about high school. We compared all of my years and she helped me figure out the lessons I learned from everything that’s happened to me. To help prepare me for college. It was really helpful.”

“Oh. That sounds nice. Maybe I need to do that too.” He stared over the top of Dallon’s head aimlessly, trying to think of his own lessons. What had he learned? So much, so much. “Tyler’s going to LA for college.” He added quietly, and Dallon pulled away to look at him. “Josh is too. Did you know?”

“Yeah. Josh is from there. I knew he was thinkin’ of going back.” He laid his head back down, not as phased as Brendon had expected him to be. “Are you worried about Tyler going far away?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without him.” His words came out almost broken, as he had yet to fully come to terms with it. Tyler was leaving him. Their entire childhood. Their friendship. It didn’t feel real.

“I know. But just because we wanna stay in our hometown doesn’t mean everyone else does.” He figured; Brendon knew he didn’t have much else to say on the matter. He wasn’t as attached to people as Brendon was. He knew that people had to do what they had to do. “Besides, you’re gonna have me. And I know that isn’t the same, and it’s not gonna make up for him being gone, but you’re best friends, Bren. You’ll stay in touch Everything’s gonna be okay.” He brushed his lips against Brendon’s chest and Brendon rubbed in between his shoulder blades, trying to take it to heart. things couldn’t always stay the same. He knew that. He just didn’t want to come to terms with it.

* * *

They woke up at the same time these days, living symmetrically, smiling like it was a joke. It always seemed to be. It was like Brendon had somehow absorbed Dallon’s affinity for early mornings, the quiet chirping of the birds and the faded sky and the quiescence of the city before everybody woke up. They lied together sometimes, in the morning glow, until it was time to get up and get ready.

Brendon groaned, running his fingers down his skin and trying to cover every inch because he was so sick of it and he felt like he didn’t belong in it anymore. Dallon looked at him in the mirror while he pulled a brush through his hair and Brendon looked back, kind of maybe hating him a little. “Your skin is perfect. I’m so jealous. My stress manifests itself in, like, mutilating my face.”

“Shut up. Your skin is fine.”

“When I’m not breaking out, maybe.” Brendon pouted, glaring at himself in the mirror abhorrently. “I’m so stressed. I hate school and life and how perfect your stupid unfair skin is.”

“Brendon.” Dallon rolled his eyes and went to pull his excess hair out of the brush. “My skin isn’t perfect. I’m not perfect. We’re teenage boys. Of course we’re not perfect.”

“Fuck.” Brendon whined, snatching the brush from his boyfriend to brush back his hair. He swore it was falling out from all this stupid stress. Dallon wrapped both arms around his shoulders, resting his chin on the top of his head before Brendon could manage to get a brush through it.

Brendon reached up to hold his forearms and frowned, what a goddamn couple, somebody so angelic and astoundingly beautiful and then... Brendon. “I love you, Brendon Boyd Urie. So freakin’ much.” He whispered, rocking him back and forth.

Pretty soon they’d be living together, sharing a mirror forever, and Brendon would grow out of his baby face and teenage acne. Dallon would only get more handsome, and he would still love Brendon even if his skin wasn’t perfect and his hair was greasy and maybe even falling out because that was what you got when you loved someone. Sharing a bathroom forever, calling each other beautiful even when Brendon looked like this.

“Even if I don’t pass,” Brendon lamented.

“Even if you don’t pass.” Dallon repeated. “Which you will.” He then added, and Brendon made a noise of discouragement while he watched himself sway in the mirror. “Stop stressing, sweetheart. Grades for the spoken word will come in soon.”

“I feel like I’ve been waiting forever.” Brendon groaned when Dallon pulled away, ruffling Brendon’s hair and then pushing it to the side to see how it looked. “I need this to pass.”

“You did perfect, Brendon.” Dallon assured him, and then, “I like this on you. Look.” Brendon looked toward the mirror passively and shrugged, but Dallon tsked because Brendon wasn’t the one looking at him all day anyway and continued to use his fingers to style dark locks of hair.

“You really are gay,” Brendon mused, and Dallon smiled but said nothing as he pulled away to examine his masterpiece. “I don't know. My grade in English sucks right now so I have to at least get an eighty on the final and I basically have to ace the spoken word if I wanna pass and do okay.”

“Well, you’re gonna pass. Cause if you don’t I’m boycotting the school until they let you graduate. This looks really nice on you, Bren, you should wear it like this more often.”

Brendon backed away, smacking Dallon’s hand because he was going to look stupid no matter how he did his hair. But Dallon smiled anyway, pressing a kiss to his temple and then disappearing from the bathroom in its wake. “Why am I so tired?”

“Because you’ve slept at my house for days which means you’re just clinging to me all night and probably not sleeping well. And because I kick in my sleep. Probably.” Dallon figured, going to pull on a pair of jeans that he’d left on his chair.

“Yes, I know. I’m covered in bruises to prove it.”

“Shut up, no you’re not.” He tickled his side and Brendon giggled, swatting at him. “Do you want breakfast?”

“I’m gonna make a bagel.”

“I think we have apple turnovers.” Dallon pointed out, and Brendon turned to look at him, wide eyed, before he trotted into the kitchen like a child. Dallon followed, circling the island to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. “You have no reason to be insecure, Bren. Just saying. You’re smart and cute and nice and I’m lucky to have you. Even when you think your skin is bad.”

“My skin is bad. And I love you.” He found the turnovers and stole one, grabbing a napkin with it for good measure. “C’mon. I gotta go over my stats homework before class. And you have no reason to be insecure either, Dal.”

“I never said I was.”

“Yeah, but I know you.” He pointed at him, and Dallon smiled. A few months ago, the thought of Brendon knowing him was scary. A few weeks ago, even. But now things felt final. Like he knew the direction they were going in and they were on the same page. “Hey. We don’t have enough school left to justify being late. Let’s get a move on, shall we? Spend our last few weeks with our friends before they leave us forever?”

“Yeah.” Dallon agreed after a beat, reaching out to take his hand. “Let’s go.”

“Yes. I call shotgun.” He rushed him to the door, eager for no real reason, and Dallon couldn’t help but smile again.

* * *

Brendon sat alone on his bed one afternoon as he scrolled aimlessly on his laptop, trying to find something to do as he distracted himself from homework. He knew he should have been studying but it felt like a moot point. Finals were coming up, and he felt like if he didn’t get it now, he’d never get it. He just wanted to get all of this over with.

All of a sudden his bedroom door opened without a knock and he jumped, not expecting anybody. “Hey. Sorry. It’s just me.” Dallon apologized quickly, but smiled at the way he put a hand to his heart. “I should really learn how to knock before I enter, huh?”

“I wasn’t doing anything compromising. But yes, that is a skill you should acquire. Hi. You almost gave me a heart attack.” He sat up on his knees and went to pull Dallon into a hug, forgiving him more or less. “What are you doing here? I thought you had therapy.”

“I did. I just got out. I wanted to come see you. Ask you something. I thought you were working but I guess not.”

He played with the tips of Dallon’s hair aimlessly, pulling away to look at him. “Oh, yeah. I cut my shift short today so I could nap but I’m on that level of tired where I’m too tired to nap so I’m just hanging out. What did you wanna ask me?”

“Ah. So, uh. Would you wanna go out for dinner tonight? Ryan, uh. He invited us to go out with he and Dan. Apparently they’ve been talking for the past month, and I don’t know, is it weird of me to say that I’m uncomfortable with it? You don’t have to come, I know it’s a really awkward thing of me to ask, but Tyler and Josh are going, it’ll be more group-like than date-like, anyway, and I don’t know, I just thought it would be easier for me if you were there.”

“Of course I’ll come. Don’t even worry about it.” He poked at the scar on Dallon’s chin and Dallon forced a smile at him, plopping down on the bed beside him. “I could also help you come up with an excuse to get out of it if you want.”

“No, it’s fine.” Dallon laughed softly. “You said we need to spend time with our friends before they leave us forever. Tyler and Josh are going away soon, and I wanna spend time with them. And I should indulge Ryan with this new relationship, or whatever he and Dan are. Even if it makes me uncomfortable.”

“You’re a good friend.” He pat his thigh. “Yeah. Why not? It’ll be fun.”

Dallon forced a smile at him, and neither mentioned it though both knew. Fun. That wasn’t Dallon’s definition of it.

At a restaurant downtown that evening Brendon sat in a booth surrounded by his friends and one stranger, observing the way he talked to Ryan like they’d known each other forever. Dallon was looking away but it was obvious that he was listening, and Brendon’s fingers flexed on his thigh underneath the table.

Tyler started a conversation that everybody could join, and Dallon seemed more comfortable. Brendon didn’t take it personally that Dallon was put off. He and Ryan had a big history. A big, complicated history that made this even more awkward than first group dates were.

Dan asked questions and Ryan’s friends embarrassed him, teasing him about nominal things and trying to make it comfortable. And everybody was except Dallon, Brendon knew, but didn’t blame him. He didn’t adapt well to change. He was worse with it than Brendon was. That said a lot about that.

Despite everything Dallon rubbed aimless circles into his back as he looked over the menu and Brendon smiled to himself, whether it meant he was trying to show off or just wanted to touch him, because even when he didn’t know it Dallon loved him. That meant so much more than he knew how to say. Brendon placed a hand on his thigh under the table again, assuring him that he was there.

Dallon took his hand and squeezed it; Brendon knew he was just trying to come to terms with some things he hadn’t yet.

Ryan. Dallon had loved him once upon a time, but things weren’t always meant to be. Brendon Urie, he was meant to be. Dallon didn’t question that even for a minute. It was just different, was all. Everything that was changing.

After dinner everybody said their goodbyes, the awkward end of an awkward date, as it was always a bit out of place when one person was new. That had been Brendon once upon a time, he figured, except without the tense history that Ryan and Dallon had. A history that not many people knew, so Brendon was silent and Dan was clueless when Dallon said he and Ryan were going to walk around together once everyone was gone.

“Hey, I’m gonna go to Kara’s.” Brendon said suddenly as it was only the three of them left, nodding his head to the right as they approached where his sister lived. “Her building’s over here and I haven’t seen her in a few days.”

“Oh. Sure. Tell her I say hi.” Dallon replied, not stopping him to stay like he normally would have. He felt like he could do this. Do this alone.

“Sure. We’ll get together tomorrow.” Brendon promised, and stood up on his toes to kiss Dallon’s cheek. Dallon kissed his forehead in return, squeezing his upper arm in a silent vow before they parted ways. Ryan smiled at him when Dallon turned back, just the two of them, and something like that would have made him nervous once but now he was too used to it, tonight; too drained.

“So. Dan.” Dallon started as they headed down the street, in the general vicinity of Ryan’s though neither of them really had a plan.

“Yeah. Dan.” Ryan repeated, and the awkward tension felt thick in the air above them.

“He seems really nice.” Dallon offered after a second, not really knowing what else to say. He didn’t know anything about him aside from the fact that he liked Ryan. Typically he figured that that made someone a decent person.

“That’s what the best friends say when they don’t like the guy.” Ryan pointed out, joking only half evident in his tone.

“No.” Dallon laughed, going to smack his arm but doing it lighter than he expected. “No, I’m serious. He seems nice, Ryan. I’m glad you’re happy.”

“I’m glad you’re happy too, Dallon.” Ryan bumped his shoulder against Dallon’s, and it crossed his mind that maybe this was the first time that he and Ryan had been genuinely happy at the same time. Or their maximum, anyway. The two of them had limits, due to the circumstances.

“So you and Bren have gotten close, huh?” Dallon brought up another minute later, though it sounded much more suspicious out loud than it did in his head.

“Yeah. He’s really nice to talk to. Good listener. Inquisitive. We’ve been talking a lot this past year.” Ryan humored him, but really always saw through to the deeper meaning.

Dallon hesitated. “I shouldn’t be worried, right?”

“Stop trying to make us into a love triangle. It’s so cliché.” Ryan rolled his eyes, but smiled because he knew it was what Dallon did. Worried about silly things. Asked to ale his wondering.

“I’m just saying. You guys are both adorable. It would be so easy to just ditch me.”

“Shut up. You’re adorable too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ryan bumped his hip against Dallon’s, making him smile and look away as he figured that Ryan had figured him out. He always did. It was typically just a question of when and not if. “Dallon. What’s goin’ on?”

“Nothing.” He lied, but Ryan knew him better than that. “Just... seeing you date a guy is weird for me.”

“It’s weird for me too.” He admitted, and Dallon looked at him with a half smile; he was expecting to talk about it. Just not this soon. “I never thought I’d want to. But I think— I think after what happened to me, maybe I’m better off with a guy. Being with girls is always going to remind me...”

“Yeah.” Dallon interrupted, didn’t want to make him say it, and Ryan looked down at his shoes. “It’s good that you know now, though.”

“Yeah, I’ve been feeling more secure. Knowing for sure that I like guys. I’m not doubting myself anymore.”

“Yeah, that’s good.” He said awkwardly, watching his converse step beside Ryan’s vans. Wondering if in time, they’d get better at talking about this. “So, um. I actually... can I tell you something?” He asked, and Ryan looked up at him in the dark.

“Sure. Anything.”

“I have an eating disorder.” He told him blatantly, and though he didn’t look at him when he said it he could feel Ryan stare at his face. “Or I used to. I don’t know. Sometimes I’m still really insecure, but I used to... y'know. It used to be pretty bad. Around when my dad died and when you and I stopped being together. Not that we were together, just...”

“Yeah, no. I know what you mean. Hey.” He nudged Dallon in the side so Dallon looked at him, afraid of a bad reaction. He didn’t know how to talk about this or what anyone was supposed to say. “Thank you for telling me that.”

“Yeah.” He looked away again, swallowing his discomfort. “I told Brendon a few months ago. And Josh knows, it’s kind of a long story, and I wanted to be honest with you too. I’ve talked to my therapist about it and I’ve actually been okay lately. I haven’t done anything out of the ordinary in months. I just wanted to be honest.”

“I appreciate that.” He nodded, but Dallon could tell he was biting back what he really wanted to say. “You... uh. You said it was bad when we stopped being together.”

“Yeah.” He looked at him, letting out a deep breath. Confrontation. Even after all this time, he was no good at it. “Yeah, I know what you’re asking. A lot of it was because I didn’t feel like I was enough. Like I wasn’t good enough and that there was something wrong with me. I know now that there wasn’t, there isn’t, but at the time I was already struggling with it because of my anxiety. I was too anxious to eat. It just kind of spiraled from there.” He shook his head, ashamed in himself for ever letting it get that far. “I never wanted to mention it to you because I didn’t want you to blame yourself. It’s not anyone’s fault. I took things too hard and took it out on myself. What matters is that I’m okay now and I’m happy and I’m getting help.”

“I’m really proud of you, Dal.” Ryan told him simply. He had a lot to say about it. He always did. But he didn’t need to say any of it. Sometimes less was more.

“Thank you.” Dallon looked away, but Ryan heard the sincerity. He just wasn’t good at accepting the fact that people were proud of him. He never quite saw himself as someone to be proud of.

“Can I tell you something?” Ryan asked after a second, and Dallon nodded, peeking through his bangs. “I used to be so jealous of you.”

“Of me?” Dallon laughed like it were the most absurd thing in the world. “Why?”

“Because you had this perfect life! Your parents loved you and each other, and you had your own room, and you got the Wii before anyone else I knew. And because you would bring that thing to my house to play Mario Kart in the basement when my parents wouldn’t let me leave. Because you were always just this person that I wished I could be.”

“And now I’m a fucking mess.”

“No, Dallon, that’s the thing. You had this perfect life, and I was so envious, but even after everything. Even then. You’re someone I want to be like. You know who you are and don’t let anybody take that away from you. You’re defiant and stand up for yourself and you’re your own person. I mean, look at you. You have this boy that you love, this boy who worships you, and your Mormon mother forgot everything she ever believed to unconditionally support her gay son, and you’re fucking gorgeous, Dallon. You’re smart and funny and nice and gorgeous and so it shocks me that you didn’t ever see that.”

“It doesn’t mean I’m perfect. I’m far from it.”

“Well, none of us are perfect. But for what it’s worth, I see you. Who you really are. All of the things that make you you.”

“Thank you.” He nodded at him, pressing his lips together in a smile. “I guess it’s just... when you spend so much time hating the world, you start to think it’s bad to you cause it hates you. So you start to blame yourself, and then you just have this down spiral of self-hatred and it gets so easy to build a routine where you stand in the mirror and point to yourself and say, fix this, this is why you’re so unlovable. I think at some point I conditioned myself into feeling like I didn’t deserve love.”

“I thought the same thing when everything happened, you know. I thought that I was ruined. That I would never be lovable after that. I realized pretty recently that that’s not true. I’m not why that happened to me. Just like you’re not why the world sucks. The world just sucks, Dallon. We’re two out of billions of people suffering from that too.”

“It feels like it should be so much easier when you put it like that.”

“It should be. But for what it’s worth, at least we’re managing. Getting better and stuff. That’s really important.”

Dallon thought about it only for a second. “Yeah, I agree.”

Ryan shrugged, not taking it to heart as much as Dallon did. “I don’t know. It took me a while but I’m realizing a lot of things I didn’t know before.”

“I am too.” He realized. “I guess that’s just growing up.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Ryan agreed, and they looked up at each other. “I never thanked you, by the way. For going back to therapy. I know it was really hard for you to do.”

“You don’t have to thank me. It’s something I should have done years ago. I mean, I should be thanking you. It’s kind of changing my life. I feel like things make sense again. I haven’t felt like that in a really long time. I’m glad I can’t say no to you. It works in my favor sometimes.”

“I’m glad you can’t say no to me either.” He punched his arm. “I’m really, really proud of you, Dal. It’s really important to me that you’re okay.”

The words made Dallon smile. He liked hearing things like that. That people cared. It wasn’t often that they did; it felt special. Like it meant something. “I’m okay. I’m getting okay, anyway. Therapy is helping. So is Brendon. So are you. Things are really good right now. I’m actually happy. Genuinely.”

“That’s really good to hear.”

“I think— I think going back to the hospital helped a lot.” He added as a second thought. “And therapy. It’s stupid because I avoided these things for so long, and I can’t even remember why I did.”

“Because you’re stubborn. You always have been. But I’m glad that you’re doing better.” He commended. “I think that— I think that that’s what this is all about. Getting better. I think none of that is in vain.”

“Yeah. I think you’re right.” Dallon agreed, because he could see the truth in that. All of this was about becoming okay again. Becoming remedied.

All of a sudden Ryan reached out to take his hand, walking with him under illuminated streetlights, and neither of them had to wonder what it meant.

* * *

The air began to grow calescent as graduation approached and Brendon started to gather the things he wanted to take with him to the apartment. He was getting used to living in limbo, wondering what he’d need for his daily visits home for work and for he and Dallon’s place. It wasn’t an uncomfortable limbo, though. It was nice. It was starting to feel commonplace.

Dallon sketched furiously at the head of Brendon’s bed while the latter studied for his statistics final. Dallon wasn’t worried about any of his finals but Brendon was killing himself trying to study. He made flash cards, did practice problems, kept track of his notes, and he was finally starting to get it. It was just that his entire life revolved around statistics now.

“This sucks.” Dallon snapped suddenly, closing his sketchbook and whipping it across the room so that it hit the closet door and fell half open onto his floor. Brendon looked up, shocked, and Dallon covered his face with his hands in distress.

“What are you doing?” He asked calmly, pushing aside his textbook.

Dallon sighed, pushing his hand through his hair and nodding his head toward the forgotten sketchbook. “Working on my graphic novel, and it sucks.”

Brendon rolled his eyes, Dallon always put himself down, and climbed onto his lap slowly. “No it doesn’t.”

Dallon pouted at him petulantly. “You haven’t even seen it.”

“But you are so fucking talented and so by default I already know it doesn’t suck.” Brendon snatched the pencil from his hand and leaned in to kiss him, taking a seat on his thighs. “C’mon, you’re overworking yourself. Things will work out when they want to.”

“But my storyline is so rough, and I haven’t developed an art style for it yet, and I can’t decide if I want to digitalize it afterward or not.” Dallon complained, talking with his hands until Brendon’s captured them. “I don’t know how to make a graphic novel. This was a stupid idea.”

“Hey.” Brendon shook his head, wiggling his hips playfully until Dallon tilted his head up to look him in the eye with depletion. “None of your ideas are stupid. You just have to calm down a sec. Rome wasn’t built in a day, Dally.”

“I don’t think this is the same thing.”

“Stop.” Brendon shoved him and Dallon didn’t bother smiling until Brendon tickled his sides. He jerked underneath him, tried to push him off, but Brendon giggled and wrapped an arm around his neck. “Hey, c’mon. Take a break. You’ve been drawing too long and I’m gonna puke if I have to do one more equation. You have to chill out.” He kissed his lips, his cheek, his jawline, down to his neck. Dallon craned his head back with a sigh, running a hand up and down Brendon’s thigh.

“Says you.” He said, and Brendon recoiled to give him a look as he brushed the skin underneath the hem of his shirt gently with his fingertips.

“S’not my fault you hate everything you do.” He accused, tugging at his collar.

“Not true. I don’t hate you, do I?” He retorted, half smiling, and it took Brendon a second but he laughed when he caught it.

“Hey!” He pushed his shoulder and Dallon’s smile reached his ears, always finding pride in making him laugh. “C’mon. Let’s go do something. We haven’t been on a date in a minute and I could use some time. Tomorrow we’re packing up my room and then we’re doing yours and we need to enjoy the quiet for a little while. Please.” He ran his hands up the side of Dallon’s neck and kissed his nose playfully. “Let’s go.”

“Fine, Urie, you win.” Dallon sighed, and Brendon rolled off his lap and giggled because he knew he’d cave. “But you’re taking me somewhere. I’m not making any decisions.”

“Okay. Yeah. Let's get something to eat. I'm starving."

"You ate like, an hour ago, Brendon."

"I know." Brendon laughed again, in a good mood today, and got up to pull him out of bed.

Half an hour later they sat across the table from each other at a pizza place downtown, laughing over nothing as someone brought over their food. Dallon thanked them, making space on the table, and Brendon admired the smile on his face, his kindness, how he was polite to strangers and tipped waiters and cleaned up after himself so they didn’t have to. He was a good person. Brendon loved that about him.

“I feel like I haven’t eaten in centuries.” Brendon whined petulantly, picking at his food and choosing what to devour first. Dallon sat there for a second, admiring him, and Brendon knew, or wondered, at least. “Aren’t you hungry?” He urged, pushing it like he did, and Dallon nodded, going to steal a french fry.

“Yeah. I was just thinking.” He excused himself, and went to grab his cup of soda.

Brendon hummed, but pushed the plate toward Dallon to share. “What about?”

He shook his head absently like the thought were just passing, though he thought it much more often that he’d let on. “Us. I’m trying to remember what my life was like before you were in it. How I saw you in the hallways and tried to imagine what it would be like to be with you. Or to at least be friends with you. It seemed like such a dream. Now it seems like destiny.”

“Sometimes I feel like I wasn’t even alive until you.” Brendon admitted, but strangely Dallon knew just what he meant.

“I think it’s funny, how many times we talked before junior year.” Dallon added, reminiscing on his past like it were something favorable, but he preferred now. “We had a lot of opportunities to become friends. We had a lot of opportunities to ask each other out. It seems so strange to me how many chances we got. How I never worked up the courage to do it until two years after we first met.”

Brendon nodded in agreement, biting at the end of his straw. It just never seemed like the right time to build bridges. Start a friendship. Crying in the bathroom or laughing at how pathetic they were in the nurse’s office. It just didn’t make sense then. It made sense now. “Do you think we would have lasted? If we got together sooner?”

“No.” Dallon said truthfully without a second thought, and Brendon said nothing but his eyebrows climbed higher expectantly. “I think that we weren’t ready. I like to think that things happen for a reason. God’s plan, or whatever. I think we waited until we were both in a better place than we had been. We never would have made it had we been the people we were before.”

“You’re probably right.” He agreed, because he and Dallon weren’t the people they had been prior to their first real conversation. They were lost back then. More lost than they were now, anyway. The way they had changed so furiously in just a couple of months was monumental. “Besides, if you asked me out while we were crying together in the school bathroom then I probably would have been really confused and maybe freaked out.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Dallon agreed with a hint of a laugh, and went to kick at Brendon’s foot under the table. “I’m glad things happened the way they did. I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

“Me neither, Dal.” Brendon agreed, because even if it was a mess at the time, it was their mess. He loved their mess. Living in it, basking in it. Falling in love with it over and over because that was what he got with Dallon. Falling in love with every little thing. Every word he said. It was easy with him. So easy. Some things just made sense. Some things just felt right.

“You know what’s weird?” He asked, but didn’t wait for Brendon to answer to continue. “When you go through something hard, you think that that’s the worst of it. Like, you made it through that one bad thing, and then that’s it. I had that mentality when I was recovering. The mentality that when you make it through something really, really bad, everything else is easy. Because my dad died, and it was so hard, and after years of mourning I just thought, you know, I was done with all the bad stuff. And then this year happened. And I realized that you’re never... done. It’s just hard stuff after hard stuff. And you learn how to deal with that hard stuff. And it turns out that it doesn’t get easier, it just gets different. Like you learn how to handle bits and pieces of situations. But never how to handle all of them.” He looked up at him, picking at their food. “This wasn’t the worst year of my life. It was yours, I know that, and it was pretty bad for me too. But it happened. We can’t erase that. I guess we just... utilize whatever we’ve learned from it. It took me a minute to realize that every experience means something.”

“I know what you mean,” Brendon whispered, almost speechless.

“And this is stupid, Bren, this is so stupid, but we were about to break up. Before everything that happened. We were gonna break up. And I would have lost this amazing, incredible boy who changed my life. And I’m not thankful for what happened to you, but I think sometimes that everything is fate, that it’s God, I know that’s really churchy of me to say. But it’s true. I think things happen for a reason. And... we’re closer now. And in time those bad memories will just become bleak, and the good memories will be the ones that stick. Like what came out of this. Us realizing that we need to use each other’s strength. Like you learning everything you want about me, and me learning everything I want about you. I mean, I’m ready to have a life with you. Because I know now that when we got through this year, we came out of it knowing something. And I think that’s what makes it okay.”

“I think you're right." Brendon agreed thoughtfully, realizing then how much he had really thought about all of this. "I’m ready to have a life with you too. In spite of all the bad stuff. Cause you’re right. We came out of this stronger. Except imagine me saying that in a less cliché way.”

"Well, it is a cliché. But clichés are clichés for a reason." He figured.

"That's true." Brendon tilted his head at him, admiring. He used to sit back and just listen to Dallon talk, back before they were them. He always wondered where his words came from. How he could just pull them out of his mind. Now Brendon knew, and he never expected how deep he could dig inside him. “You know what I realized?” He added after a moment, and Dallon picked out a slice of pizza. “Do you— do you remember when I told you that I wasn’t going to see you differently? When you told me about your depression, I told you that I wasn’t going to see you differently. But I lied. I think that it’s impossible not to see someone differently once you learn who they really are. But I don’t think that has to be a bad thing. I think it’s really important that our perceptions of each other keep changing, as long as we still love each other.”

“You’re right.” Dallon agreed softly, because they did see each other differently. That was the point of all of this. They were stronger in their own ways. Saw each other that way, and knew everything that they hadn’t known back then.

A lot of things were life changing. They both knew that well enough by now.

Brendon never knew how to tell him how many times and different ways he fell in love with him. It had felt like forever since the first time, but since they had fixed things it felt like every day he found something new to smile about. He guessed that meant he was happy. He never thought he’d find out what that was like.

* * *

Brendon sighed to himself and looked up at the ceiling, feeling hot water slide down his body. He and Dallon had been cleaning out his room all evening and he felt disgusting, touching all the trash and dusty old things he forgot he owned. It was getting closer, the end of the year, his moving out. He and Dallon living together. It still didn’t feel real.

“You’re so cute.” Dallon said when Brendon slipped into his room again, closing the door behind him.

Brendon turned to look at him, raising his eyebrows as water dripped off his skin and slid down his body. “What?”

“You. Just— the way you wear a towel. You wrap it around your entire body. You look little when you do that. Like a kid. It’s cute.”

Brendon burrowed further into his towel with a laugh and Dallon smiled, turning to give him privacy as he dried himself off and changed. He loved that, that Dallon always observed the ways he did everything, how wholesome and warmly he thought of him. He made Brendon feel innocent all over again. Brendon got dressed quickly, into sweatpants and a tee shirt because he supposed Dallon didn’t care much about what he looked like anymore. They felt realer than the old superficiality.

“Hey, what are you doing, anyway?” Brendon ran his towel through his wet hair and tossed it toward the ottoman blindly as his clothes stuck to his still wet skin. Dallon glanced up for a second, thumbing the page of the photo album in hand, seemingly distracted from what he was supposed to be doing. “I see you’re not packing anymore, social loafer.” He quirked a brow when Dallon did too. “Psychology.”

“Nice.” He said, and maybe there was some sort of pride in his voice if Brendon cared to look. “No, I needed a break. I found a photo album in one of your drawers, and I’ve seen a lot of your photo albums but not this one.” Dallon pointed to a photo of a toddler sized Brendon, eyes huge and hair sticking out in crazy directions. “You were adorable.”

Brendon smiled and took a seat on the bed, having forgotten that album was there. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Look. I think you grew into your eyes.” He held the album up and Brendon smiled, Dallon was such a dork sometimes. “I mean, they’re just as big now as they were when you were a baby. People’s eyes don’t change. That’s something I really love. Your eyes never changed.”

“Yours haven’t either. I have a baby photo of you somewhere in here.” He turned to look at his desk and then back at Dallon, eyebrows furrowed unreadably, and- “Your mom never told you she gave me one?”

“No.” Dallon said quietly, shaking his head, and held the photo album to his chest. “No, she didn’t.”

“Oh. Well, I asked her for some once. I don’t remember when. But I thought they would be nice to have.”

Dallon shook his head in disbelief, like he’d forgotten that Brendon could see him, lost in his thoughts, and Brendon only smiled when Dallon placed a hand on his cheek. He kissed him, soft and slow, and Brendon held the side of his neck, trying not to grin into it. “You’re so cute.” He whispered, brushing his thumb over his skin.

“It’s a good thing you’re gonna get to look at me constantly, huh?”

“Oh, yeah.” Dallon bumped his shoulder against Brendon’s and Brendon smiled, hooking both arms around his shoulders and watching Dallon return to the photo album. “Hey, why don’t you wear the red glasses anymore? I like those.”

Brendon looked down at a photo of him and his siblings, grinning under the red frames that were in his side drawer now, the extra pair he wore when his others weren’t in reach. “Oh. Um, people always picked on them, and my brother said they made me look like a girl so I stopped wearing them. Now I just wear them at home.”

“I think they’re cute.” Dallon looked up to smile at him. “I think everything’s cute on you, though. I love your face.”

“Stop, you’re so gay.” Brendon argued, blushing red as he shoved his shoulder and pushed him back against the pillows. Dallon wrapped an arm around his back and Brendon giggled, poking at his face like a child. “I love your face too.”

“Stop.” Dallon laughed, going to tickle his stomach in return. Brendon went to attack back, defending himself, and when Dallon tried to grab his waist Brendon flipped him over and pinned him down against the mattress. Dallon let out a huff, staring at him in disbelief, and whispered, “You’re strong.”

“When you have two older brothers who throw you around for fun, you acquire strength. Or enough of it, anyway.” Brendon whispered back, and leaned down to kiss him. Chasing his lips when Dallon pulled away with a laugh, bumping their knees together.

“It’s gonna be fun living with you, dork.” He said through laughter, bumping his nose against Brendon’s.

“You’re the dork. C’mon.” Brendon scrunched up his nose. “We’ll never move in together if we don’t finish cleaning up in here.”

“You’re right.” Dallon sat up when Brendon did too, looking around at all they had left to do. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Moving could be overwhelming for everyone. “I don’t think we need to take your dinosaurs.” He gestured to the windowsill and Brendon turned to scoff, putting his hands on his hips.

“We totally need to take my dinosaurs.” He argued, and Dallon grinned back at him, deciding then that this was going to be a perfect decision.

* * *

Brendon stared at himself intently in the mirror for a second, thumbing the edge of the frame in his hand, before he reached up to perch the glasses on his face. He hadn’t worn them in a while but they still felt the same, looked better on him now that he looked a little more mature. He smiled, pushing his hair back as he examined himself, and he liked them a lot more than he thought. He liked himself more than he thought too, now that he was growing up. Getting better.

He stepped out of the bathroom and pushed a hand through his hair, heading back to his room. Dallon was right. They were cute on him. A relic of who he was when he was scared, but these days he found himself taking a lot of things back. Proving that he was bigger than the skeletons that haunted him. The skeletons in his closet that he used to be scared of, but now here he was, wearing his old glasses but feeling like a new person.

He took a picture of himself and sent it to Dallon, feeling as though he deserved to feel confident for once. He didn’t often feel good about himself. When he did, it felt monumental.

There’s my boy, Dallon had texted back, and Brendon smiled at his reflection in the screen.

* * *

The end of the school year was creeping up and Brendon found himself antsy, trying to balance studying for finals and cleaning out his room and Dallon’s. It was more of spring cleaning than anything, his house was always going to be home, and he wasn’t going to take much with him except clothes because that was all he really needed. Dallon would take care of the interior design for the most part, Brendon would help pick out photos and paintings, but his band posters would stay where they were and so would the dinosaur figurines on his windowsill.

“I’m hoping they’ll let us hang flower boxes out our window. I mean, I know we’ll have the balcony, I wanna have some sort of flora going on out there, but I think I’m gonna get some flower boxes. Maybe paint them. Or I could have the kids at the rec center help paint them, maybe.” Dallon thought out loud, going through his drawers and throwing old clothes in a bag to donate, others in a pile to pack.

“Good idea.” Brendon agreed, managing to get through Dallon’s closet, a task he’d avoided for a while for one reason or another. “I do wanna put up a little thing on our front door. Like, a little wooden sign. Maybe you can make one? It can say Urie Weekes on it.” Dallon looked at him, and Brendon added, “I mean, that’s what we decided on, right?”

“Right. No hyphen.” Dallon agreed, and Brendon grinned as if to say he was just playing but it was feeling less and less like a joke these days.

Brendon returned to sorting through stuff in the closet, bags of clothes and old art projects that his mother would keep as he got older, boxes of things he didn’t use anymore, spare blankets and pillows and things of the sort. It was handy having someone like Brendon to help, because Dallon wasn’t big on cleaning and Brendon did it to soothe his anxiety; the last couple of weeks were stressful. He needed to get his mind off of finals before he started to permanently see in statistic equations.

“Awe.” Brendon cooed from the doorway of the closet suddenly, and Dallon looked up to see his boyfriend holding up a fuzzy sheep stuffed animal. “Who’s this guy?”

“Oh, wow.” Dallon reached out to take it from his hands, holding it tight to his chest. “My sheep. I got this when I was a kid. I was such an only child, my parents spoiled me, and they got me all these toys but I couldn’t sleep without this one. I named it Lady Ba Ba.”

Brendon laughed, and Dallon set it down on his bed, to be brought to the new home because some things from childhood couldn’t be let go of. “That’s so cute. You’re such a dork.” He grinned at Dallon, somehow so charming, and returned to the closet, rooting around and pulling out things carefully. He retracted a portfolio, an old one, art Dallon had done as a child once upon a time.

Dallon looked up from where he was folding clothes on his bed to see Brendon peek inside, flipping through crayon drawings and rough sketches, relics of old things he had somehow forgotten about. A paper slid out and Brendon set aside the portfolio to bend down and pick it up, examining the drawing as he stood. “This is really nice, Dal. What is it?”

Dallon looked up to see the sketch, a bottle of lemonade, a daisy, and a pair of rollerblades. And something in his stomach ached, something reminiscent, as he trained his eyes on it, not letting himself look away. “That’s my first still life. I was five.” He let out a breath, not shaky enough for Brendon to notice. “My dad taught me. That’s when I started doing art.”

“It’s fucking good for a five-year-old.” Brendon laughed to himself, holding it out in front of him. “I wanna frame this and put it up at the apartment, is that okay?”

“Yeah, Bren, that’s okay.” Dallon’s eyes lingered as Brendon set it down on his dresser, smoothing it out carefully. Brendon was smiling down at it like he were imagining a five-year-old Dallon and his father sketching together, his father’s more defined and professional and less childish but Dallon’s still proficient for such youth. “Hey, Brendon?” Dallon whispered, a hand on the sheep his parents had given him when he was just about the same age, perhaps younger, tender hearted and joyous in the way that children were. Brendon looked up, and Dallon retracted his hand, wrapping an arm around himself. “Can I have a hug?”

“Yeah.” Brendon abandoned his project and went to envelop him in a hug, eyebrows furrowed but not bothering to question him.

“I’m glad we’re moving in together. Starting a life together.” Dallon whispered into his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. And it sounded so beautiful, starting a life together. Sharing a home. Sharing secrets, too, and clothes, and shampoo, and Spotify plans and mugs and family recipes. As an only child Dallon never liked sharing but Brendon had gotten used to it, would teach him to as long as he let him. He took a long, deep breath, and sighed it out uneasily. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Brendon peeped, arms tight around him. And he had no idea, Dallon thought, about some of the things that meant something to him. About some of the things that made up memories that turned more and more bittersweet with age. But he knew he’d learn, because long ago Dallon had developed the habit of letting Brendon in. He tried not to for a while, tried to resist it, but Brendon was Brendon. He was good at getting his way.

Dallon didn’t know what else to say so he said nothing, burying his face in Brendon’s hair. Brendon opened his mouth as if he had something to say but cut himself off, because it wasn’t important. Dallon already knew, anyway.

* * *

The grades came out on Monday. The final grades, the ones Brendon couldn’t revise, the ones he knew he’d be shaking because of as he tried to hold his report steady. Because he knew it was going to be bad, but he was praying it wasn’t too bad; he’d spent the year studying and crying and it was finally the end. He deserved a win.

He was in the library before lunch when he got the notification on his phone, Tyler had shown him how to set that up. B Boyd Urie, final grades posted. And he cringed at his middle name on the screen, and his stomach churned because he might just throw up, and he fumbled with his phone because somehow it only ever recognized Dallon’s thumbprint but not his own. He typed in his passcode quickly, messing up once because he was so eager, he never logged onto his account so fast. He stared at the screen for a second, stunned.

Brendon peered through the cafeteria until he caught sight of his boyfriend in line for lunch, rocking back and forth on his heels aimlessly while everyone socialized around him. He raced toward him, disregarding the irritated looks he got from his peers though he doubted he was the biggest nuisance in this entire cafeteria, and Dallon startled when Brendon grabbed at his elbow too enthusiastically.

Panting because the five second sprint was too much, he said, “I got a seventy-six on the stats final.”

Dallon’s eyes lit up, excited but wary, and held a suspiring Brendon’s biceps as he nodded slowly, preparing himself for the truth. “And...”

“And I passed!” Brendon squealed, so ridiculously excited over a not even that good test score, but Dallon enveloped him in a hug right there in the middle of the line anyway. Some guy grunted and moved past them, but everyone was just becoming noise. He hadn’t paid attention to the mean words or glares or shoves in a while.

“God, thank God.” Dallon whispered in relief, losing himself in the rush of joy before he pulled away to let Brendon breathe again. “So-“

“I’m graduating with you, and I’m moving in with you, and you’re fucking stuck with me forever, Weekes.” He poked at the center of Dallon’s chest, giggling like a child, and Dallon somehow couldn’t believe it, because Brendon had been studying for weeks to at least pass. “Fuck.” He laughed, reaching out to grab Dallon’s wrist and pulling him back into the line to grab their drinks, a cup of fruit punch and another, because Brendon was feeling like changing it up today. “My mom is gonna cry. Like, I didn’t think this was gonna happen. I was thinking I was gonna have to sneak out in the middle of the night to sleep at our place every night so she wouldn’t know I moved out.”

“I would just move in with you.” Dallon figured, picking a lunch tray from the counter.

“What’s one more?” He played, and Dallon turned to smile at him as they went to claim their seats. “Hey.” He greeted their friends, poking at Ryan’s upper arm and grinning at him. “I’m not a total failure.”

“You passed?” Tyler asked, and Brendon nodded, giggling like a child because it was almost as exciting as extra recess time and being permitted to use the chalk his elementary school only broke out on special occasions. “Baby Urie, that’s great. Congrats.”

“We bestow upon you, a cake.” Josh pushed one of the shitty school store muffins toward him, and Brendon laughed, breaking his straw wrapper open. “But not really, because I need this.”

“We’ll do something to celebrate for real later.” Dallon added, sticking his own straw through the tin foil of the fruit punch.

“Ew.” Ryan grimaced, and Brendon looked away, smiling. “Don’t hint at sex, we’re trying to eat our already inedible food.”

“Who said I was talking about that?” Dallon lowered his voice, never fond of displaying his business out for people who didn’t need to know.

Tyler scoffed, stabbing his milk carton with a straw. “Please, you guys aren’t that good at hiding it.”

“Yeah. For an artist, you think you’d be better at makeup.” Ryan added, and Dallon reached up to touch his neck self-consciously, because Brendon never cared much about restraining himself. Dallon never minded so much until he was back out in the public eye.

“I thought you were talking about sex too.” Brendon amended, and Dallon shrugged because maybe so, and started to pick at his food. It had been all they’d been thinking about lately, ever since they decided on their plans for the summer.

Dallon stopped to kiss Brendon in the middle of the sidewalk before he pulled him along, toward the glass door of the macaron place. Brendon giggled and let Dallon hold the door for him, pretend curtsying as he danced into the building. He was in a better mood than he had been, realizing now that it was only a few days until this was all over, high school, the drama, the anxiety.

“I’ll pay today, go get us a seat.” Brendon pushed a hand against his chest flirtily and Dallon claimed their usual table, with a view of mountains in the distance if you squinted.

Brendon was grinning when Dallon looked up to catch him placing the tray on the table. “I love when you’re happy.” Dallon told him, and Brendon was blushing but he reached out to nudge his hand as he took a seat.

“I love being happy. I forgot what it was like for a while. But like... I’m kinda realizing that I’m not always gonna be okay and I’m not always gonna be bad. There’s a balance.” He started pushing the cookies into their proper categories, color and flavor, as Dallon waited patiently. “I’m just trying to take it one day at a time now.”

“Good idea.” Dallon commended, and split a cookie with Brendon as he finished the ritual. The last time of their high school career, but it didn’t feel sad. It wasn’t bittersweet. It was just sweet, because there was so much time to make new memories.


	73. Chapter 72: Diary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little look into Dallon's diary, aka his thoughts for the past four years.

Brendon tapped aimlessly at the corner of his notebook page, making this incessant noise and leaving tiny specs of black ink as he tried to focus but couldn’t. And for a second, when he bothered to glance up, he caught Dallon doing the same, in that notebook he always had with him. Brendon smiled, went back to writing out the next problem. Sometimes it felt like they were dwelling in symmetry, patterned feelings and movements of the hands, twisting rings off thumbs and carding fingers through hair. Like they were almost the same, somehow, yet so immensely different. Finding a rhythm that had lost its abrasive edge over time.

“What are you always writing in there?” Brendon asked idly, glancing up from his homework to catch Dallon’s gaze.

“This?” Dallon nodded down at the purple notebook, and Brendon nodded. He’d seen it a number of times, at the diner or in class or in their respective rooms, writing like his life depended on it. And maybe it did, in a way.

“Yeah. I see you with it all the time. It’s like that thing is your baby.”

Dallon half smiled, ran his fingers longingly over the page like it was. “It’s just... this journal. My thoughts. I have to get them all down somewhere, you know?” Brendon nodded minutely, calculating. Dallon writing down his thoughts. That sounded like a dangerous place for words to hide. “It’s just... I can’t just tell everybody all of them and I can’t keep it all bottled up. I think if I did, I’d develop some kind of psychosis. So I write them all down, like a diary.”

“Oh.” He sat up and looked down at his homework, afraid he’d invaded his personal space again. “Sorry for asking.”

“No, it’s okay.” Dallon thumbed the page and then closed it suddenly. “I’ve actually been thinking about this for a little while. A few months. I... um. I want you to read it.”

Brendon looked up again, at Dallon, at the purple journal in his hand, perplexed. Read it? Read his diary? “What?”

“I want you to read it.” He repeated, insisted, and Brendon didn’t understand. Those were his thoughts. Thoughts were internal for a reason. “I started this one freshman year, so it’s not as... hard as my old one, I guess. Sometimes I can’t go back through that. But I talk about you in here. I talk about a lot of things. And I wanted you to read it because I think that for the past year I’ve been hiding pieces of me from you and I never meant to. It’s just that I don’t trust easily, but you’ve given me every reason to trust you. And I do. And I think you should know everything about the person you’re moving in with. So. Here.” He handed it to Brendon, mid-sentence, not even bothering to finish what he was writing before he let it go. And Brendon accepted it, almost scandalized, like this was unheard of. And it was.

Brendon looked down, holding it at arm’s length like this precious artifact, terrified of getting his thumbprints on it. “Are you sure?”

Lazily, Dallon nodded, handing his secrets to Brendon like they were nothing. Like he hadn’t spent the past four years taking note of every thought, every feeling, everything that no one should ever know. Brendon wasn’t sure he wanted to know, either. “Yeah. I want you to know me. I want you to know the parts of me that no one else does. I never want to hide from you, Brendon.” He said, and Brendon looked up just in time for Dallon to drop his pen onto the side table and slide down beside him on the bed.

“Right now?” He asked, disbelieving.

“Mhm.” Dallon curled up against him, placing an open palm on his thigh. “Start it, anyway. I’m gonna rest. M’tired.” And with that, he shut his eyes, but Brendon stared skeptically down at the notebook for a minute, unmoving. This was Dallon’s life. His truth. His diary. And he was trusting Brendon with it.

“I’m scared.” He peeped suddenly, and Dallon peeked up at him, squinting incredulously.

“It’s not gonna bite you.”

“No, I know, just...” He touched the front cover like it was static. “Since we met I’ve been fixated on the fact that there are so many things I don’t know about you. And it scared me, because I want to know everything. Because I’m cautious and I protect my heart and I thought that if I didn’t know all of you, then I would end up getting hurt. And I know more than I did then, seen more, too, but... what if there’s something I don’t wanna know?”

“What if there’s something you do?” He answered, and Brendon looked between blue eyes and the lavender cover of the notebook warily. “Look, Bren, I’m not making you read it. I’m just giving you the option to. I’m showing you that I trust you. Do with that what you will.”

Brendon took a deep breath and flipped open the front cover slowly, hesitantly, to look at the inside of the cover. It had Dallon’s name on it, and a few doodles too. Boredom in class, maybe, or a way to get thoughts out without words. But it was Dallon’s writing, maybe a bit messier and more childish but it was his, from almost four years prior. Indented in the lined paper with a generic ballpoint pen, it was Dallon’s. He had nothing to lose.

Freshman Year

Sep 5 (High school, year 1, day 1!)

Brendon Urie. I found his name. I’m writing it here so I’ll never forget it. Not in four years when I’m graduating. Not even when I’m in college, probably, or when I’m married with kids or living alone in the mountains with some weird pet as a companion like a hedgehog or monkey or something, like in the movies. I don’t want to forget about him. Four days ago I saw him as if the universe knew I was supposed to and I swear to God he was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life. And I bet he doesn’t even know it. He has the biggest brown eyes, too. I’ve always loved brown eyes. There’s something about them. And it was like I could see them from across the room, where all the lights were on his face and he just... stood out.

Brendon Urie. I doubt I’d forget it, anyway.

-DW (heissofuckingbeautiful)

“The first thing you wrote in this thing was my name.” Brendon laughed quietly and Dallon slid his fingers down further to the inside of Brendon’s thigh. Brendon could have sworn he was laughing too, against his leg as he nuzzled his face into his leggings, breath warm through the fabric. An entry underneath that, and that, and dozens more, leaving Brendon smiling like crazy. “I love you.” He whispered, and Dallon nodded, remained quiet because the words he had written spoke louder than any he could say right now.

The shape of his lips. I think they set me on fire today.

He tripped when he was walking into the classroom today and he was bright fucking red and I’ve never been so enamored in my life. I don’t even know what it is about him. He looks so small and nerdy and different than everyone else, but not in a bad way. Like he’s not trying to be one of them. Uniqueness is attractive. He’s so... rare.

Forgive me God, but I have never wanted to see a boy naked underneath me so badly in my life.

“I like your subtle sexualization of me here.” He said and Dallon laughed again, nodding like he knew the book inside and out, every word and every doodle and every little piece of punctuation. But these were his thoughts, and people knew their own thoughts.

“That was the first day of the year that you wore leggings. I never thought I would be attracted to a boy in leggings. You just have this way of surprising me, Urie.” He tugged at the leggings clinging to Brendon’s thigh and mimed biting him when Brendon smiled. “A week later, you wore yoga pants. They were girl’s yoga pants. I knew cause the waistband of them was hot fucking pink. And I heard some guy behind you say that you looked like a girl and you just turned around really calmly and said, ‘I like them’, and then turned back around and said nothing for the rest of class. I was amazed and scared and you got me since day one, Brendon Urie. I never knew what to expect from you.”

Brendon laughed, he still had those pants, wore them out on the weekends sometimes. It was before he hit his growth spurt so they were a little too short on him now, he’d gotten new ones since then, but back when he was only five feet they were his favorites. He remembered that day because he was scared too, his mother had gently told him that maybe he wanted to wear jeans instead. He insisted he didn’t. Maybe looking back on it it would have saved a lot of trouble, but now it didn’t seem to matter so much.

Oct 10 (Middle school- 0, High school- 1)

This is pathetic. This is going to be the most pathetic thing I’ll ever write in here. I’m cringing at myself. Here goes.

Brendon Urie smiled at me today.

Okay. Wow. That was disgusting. I can’t believe I’ve become that boy who writes about his crushes in his little diary. I feel like I should be on Disney channel. Ew.

But he did. And it makes me smile. A lot. A lot more than it should. Because it was this dumb awkward little smile, like he had accidentally made eye contact with me and regretted it but couldn’t look away without seeming rude so he had to smile. But it was a smile. And I swear I could feel my heart flutter. It was so fucking weird. But today. I’m documenting today as the first real time that Brendon Urie smiled at me.

-DW (icannotstopsmiling)

We talked for the first time today. I think I may have shattered his fucking phone and I’m a dumbass and I couldn’t have been more embarrassing if I tried but I fucking talked to him. If what I did could be considered talking. It was mostly awkward stuttering. But. It was talking. Me and him.

Brendon smiled, thumbing the edges of the page aimlessly. There were entries almost every day, some so short that they only took up a few lines and some filling up a full page, but he wanted to read everything. He wanted to know everything about Dallon. His innermost secretive thoughts, his secrets, his truths. He told Brendon to read it all, and Brendon would. And he let himself, eyes scanning each page like opening a new present on Christmas. He was right to be scared. Four years of Dallon’s life were in his hands. Their future probably was, too.

Oct 20 (why do I feel so bad all the time)

I had a good day today. A real, actual good day. And nothing special happened. But I didn’t have weekend homework so I spent all day with Ryan and Josh, and we watched movies and talked like we did back before things were bad. Before I ruined things. And we held hands and they let me watch my favorite movies even though they don’t like them as much. I don’t know if it’s because they know I’ve had a rough few months, but I love them for caring about me. I needed a good day. I haven’t had a really good day in a long, long time.

But I hate myself for having a good day. I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s not fair. Because I’m miserable every day, I’m sad and scared and tired but now I’m guilty too, because maybe it was my fault, or maybe I could have done something, or maybe I didn’t tell him I loved him enough or... I don’t know. I’m too tired to think about this. I don’t want to think about it anymore. It’s like my brain has exhausted this thought so many times that it’s just scratched and skipping now, but I still feel it there, waiting.

I hate smiling. I hate having good days. I hate being happy after he’s gone. I just feel constantly guilty like something is wrong. Like I can feel a hole in my heart. I don’t think that’s ever going to go away.

-DW (whycanthebehappyanymore)

Halloween in high school is okay. Me and Josh and Ryan went out trick or treating cause we don’t care about being adults. We wanna be kids again. And it wasn’t the same as going when we were little but it made me happy. Almost like things are trying to get back to normal. I know they never will, though. I wish I could like, egg God’s house. Sorry, heaven. (Ps: I didn’t opt for the matching costumes and despite my friends’ anger, I am still satisfied in that decision.)

High school biology is stupid hard. I don’t care about the digestive system. I feel like this isn’t even a part of me. I don’t know when I started to feel like this. I wish I was a robot. I think I already am.

How am I supposed to tell Ryan that the aux cord suddenly can’t play The Beatles like I don’t know how it happened but all of a sudden it’s like immune.

I... almost gave a boy a hand job. Okay. That was new. I didn’t, though, so I’m not writing slut on my list of reasons to hate myself just yet.

Ryan told me a few months ago that he doesn’t have feelings for me. And he said that he doesn’t like boys. But I wasn’t imagining things last night. I swear I wasn’t. "I want to fuck you". No one says that when they don't mean it. I can’t keep getting these stupid mixed signals. I’m wasting all my time on this and I know it’s unhealthy and I know it’s not doing me any good but I need to fixate on something and that something just happens to be him.

I shouldn’t have failed the first time around. I won’t next time. Until then, touching flames is so much better than being afraid of them.

People have no fucking right. They don’t. I know who I am now. I spent months not knowing. I hate not knowing. I know. And people don’t get to assume that after looking at me once they know me better than I do. They don’t have the right to get it that easily. They don’t get to assume and be right. I hate not knowing. I hate that they know more.

I wonder if Brendon Urie knows that him asking me for a pen today and then writing a thank you note even though it hardly had any ink left was the reason I didn’t kill myself today.

I wish BC snowed more. I really love snow. Only seeing it a few times a year in Utah isn’t the same as waking up to it every winter morning. I know south Nevada is too dry but sometimes I wish the weather would forget that for a second. I need to make myself an angel because I can’t seem to find any.

The diner. I just need to work up the courage to go there.

Dec 2

“We can’t do this because I don’t like you like that. I don’t like boys.” Says a boy that was making out with me in his bed a month ago. Says a boy that has been letting me get away with a whole hell of a lot since he let me kiss him this summer.

The thing about Ryan is that he’s a people pleaser. He wants to make people like him. And I know kissing him at the hospital was a mistake but every time after that wasn’t. Because he kissed me back. He kissed me back and I wasn’t making that up. I wasn’t making it up when he almost let me... censored in case mom finds this and reads it when I’m dead. I wasn’t making that up. All of that was real and I know it. I’m not crazy.

He doesn’t know what he wants and I do. But you don’t kiss someone you don’t want to kiss. Not if they don’t make you. And I never made him do anything. I never made a mistake. I told him how I felt and he encouraged it. He let me. I never made a mistake. I was just being led on.

We can’t do this. That’s fucking bullshit. We can do whatever we want. Some people are just so fucking good at running scared. This is fucking stupid. I hate high school. I hate life.

-DW

God, today was the worst day ever. So was yesterday. And the day before that. And every day before that. I’m getting so sick of school and my friends and the holidays. Nothing is the same anymore. I don’t think it ever will be. Sometimes I feel like the doll from Rudolph. Except without the happy ending.

Brendon could feel his boyfriend’s breathing slow as he flipped through the pages, reading everything, a few lines more than others. Twice, three times, ten until they were engraved in his memory. Some of it just... stuck out. Some of it didn’t. Most of it did. But it was weird, because he was seeing the dates, remembering them, almost, around four years later but still so vivid. Like every word scribbled down was a reminder of some thought distant from these ones, though something felt scarily similar in the way they felt.

Because at this time Brendon felt like a misfit too. Like he was completely alone and scared and neglected, trying not to feel fear where he didn’t have to. But it felt like this was a world where he did. Some times more than others he felt that. Today, he didn’t. Today, he said an unnatural and silent prayer to a fifteen-year-old Dallon, resenting himself for things he could never admit.

So this is my first Christmas without my dad. It’s also the first Christmas that I’m not doing anything. We’re not seeing family and we’re not doing anything more than a couple presents and takeout from that place that’s literally open every second of the year. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the lights out in that place. I wonder if they sleep over there. Maybe there’s just a lot of them. I don’t know. But today wasn’t good. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good. I miss Christmas music. I never thought I’d miss it until I couldn’t listen to it without crying. I hope it gets better one day.

I am so goddamn sick of apologies.

New year, same stupid fucking mental illness. I just want this to be fucking done. I just want to stop feeling.

I told Ryan I want nothing to do with him but Josh texted to ask if I could come over for new year’s and I decided to give him one more chance. One more, and then I’m done. I can’t keep going back. I can’t keep being so desperate. I swore to myself that I would never be this person. So why am I letting myself do it? I’m the only one looking out for me. This is all just so stupid. I don’t even know what I want.

I drank too much sparkling apple cider and tried to kiss my friends on New Year’s Eve. We already know how they feel about that. It was nonalcoholic, we were just having fun. Somehow it stopped being fun.

What’s it like to not be so scared all the time?

I cried in the bathroom with Brendon Urie today and it wasn’t even one of my weirder moments. I wonder if something in us is meant to come together. Like fate. I feel like he understands me more than my friends ever could and I don’t even know him. I don’t even know his middle name. I hate that I trust a near stranger more than I trust my friends.

I hate having to apologize for my feelings as if they never even mattered. And they wonder why I never want to be around them anymore. I don’t even know what the fuck to say. No one treats me like I matter so eventually I’ll start to think the same. I don’t know what they expect from me.

Valentine’s day is coming up. Thinking about slipping a “please date me I’m desperate” card into Brendon’s backpack during math. Probably won’t, though.

Feb 11

So the school decided to start practicing lockdown drills this year. We had one today. I was in math when it happened, but they didn’t tell us what time it was gonna happen so it freaked everyone out a little bit. We had to close the doors and get down on the gross floor in the dark and stuff, all huddled in the corner, and it was sort of dumb but I get why we do it. I think it’s safe. Especially nowadays. I think it’s really important.

Brendon is in my math class. And it was weird, because I was supposed to be thinking about my own wellbeing or whatever, practicing in case anything ever happens, but he looked scared, almost, and I couldn’t help but think about him. Because he was just sitting in the corner, too far away from me, and I know it was just a drill, I know it was a precaution. But I felt like in that moment I wanted to protect him.

And now I’m at home, and I just had dinner with my mom. It was kind of nice, actually, she made lasagna like I like it and we talked about our days. She told me about the weird lady who eats bibles to have Jesus inside of her at work and I told her about the lockdown drill. We never did them in middle school and at LMCA they wanted to keep us all pure so they never told us about the actual bad stuff happening in the world. I’m surprised I’m not more sheltered, but I guess when you’re traumatized you lose that luxury.

But anyway, I’m home now. And I’m safe, and I know that. It was just a drill. It was a drill, and they’re important, and nothing really happened and I know that. But I wonder if Brendon knows that. Because he seemed scared. And I’ve hardly ever talked to him in my life but I wanted to get up and hug him and promise that he was safe. I wish I did. He looked like he could use a friend. Or a confidant. Or just someone to smile at once in a while. I wonder if he knows that I’m thinking about him. Hoping he’s okay. Maybe I’ll talk to him tomorrow.

-DW (iwanttokeepyousafe)

“The lockdown drill.” Brendon whispered suddenly, running his fingers over the page like he were back in that room, hiding in the dark, sitting on his trembling hands so no one would know his fear. Dallon looked up, blinking lazily like Brendon had woken him, and Brendon went to card a hand through his hair in apology. “I remember that. The lockdown. It was the first time I’d ever been in one. I was fucking terrified.”

“I know you were.” Dallon agreed, burying his face in Brendon’s thigh, and Brendon figures as much as he read the carefully written words on the page. “I could see it in your eyes. Like you felt like it was real. And it wasn’t, and I wanted to tell you that. I wanted to go over and sit beside you and promise you that it wasn’t real and that you were safe.”

“I wish you had.” Brendon scratched gently and Dallon moved closer, almost like it were an instinct. “It was a trigger. That’s what my parents called them. Things that caused panic attacks when I was scared. School shootings, you know, hearing all about that stuff on TV. Being scared to go out after that. Sometimes it was easier to pretend it wasn’t a reality, that something so scary could happen when I was just at school, trying to learn. But then they did the drills, and I know it was a good thing, to prepare us just in case, God forbid, but...”

“It’s still scary to think about.” Dallon supplied when Brendon had lost his words. And Brendon nodded, said nothing because Dallon knew, anyway. A lot of things were scary to think about.

Being lonely is scary. Not everyone knows that. I envy the ones that don’t. But being lonely is like realizing that if you were dead, it wouldn’t make a difference. Being lonely is like having to remind yourself to keep everything bottled up because you don’t have anyone to talk to. Being lonely is like wishing that you just locked the bathroom door. No one should have found you. You should be gone. You shouldn’t be so lonely. Why the hell are you so lonely?

I haven’t talked to my friends in weeks and maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe they don’t need me. I feel like no one really does anymore. Or wants to need me, anyway. I mean, I was talking to my mom today and she didn’t even look me in the eye. I know I fucked up when my mother won’t look at me.

My therapist should not be a therapist. It’s like she’s not even listening to me. It feels hopeless when even the person I’m paying to help me neglects me. I’m so sick of feeling like I’m not a priority. I just wish someone fucking cared about me. I really don’t think that’s too fucking much to ask.

If Brendon wears yoga pants to school one more time I’m going to ask if I can suck his dick and I can’t be held accountable.

March 4

I don’t know why but nothing feels real anymore. I feel like I’m just kind of pretending and this isn’t even really my life, it’s just something to pass the time before I die. And it’s funny, because I feel like every time I say this somebody tells me to stop, that it scares them, that I don’t mean it, that that’s a terrible thing to say. Like my depression is inconveniencing them. Well, it’s inconveniencing me too, but it seems like I’m the one that complains about it the least.

I went to the doctor’s last week. They think I have some sort of problem with eating because my weight fluctuates or whatever. Mom keeps telling me to watch my eating now, like every time I try to get a snack she thinks I’m gonna binge eat and every time I don’t want to eat dinner I’m starving myself.

There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s not an eating disorder. I don't have an eating disorder. That's what they said. Just the depression and anxiety. That’s how they explained it. I just get so anxious that I can’t eat, or I get so stressed that I eat too much. They really weren’t kidding when they said it fluctuates.

The only thing that bothers me is how inconsistent it is. I hate not knowing what’s going on with my body. I hate that the doctors have no idea how to help me, either. I just wish I had a clear diagnosis so I could have something to work with. Depression and anxiety with (insert seventy-five different mental illnesses here) tendencies doesn’t help me at all. But I don’t have an eating disorder, they said. That’s good. So there’s nothing wrong with me. Not in that way, at least. I’m just a mess.

I don’t see the point anymore. I hate everybody and everybody hates me. I’m miserable, this world doesn’t want me and I’m not so sure I want it either. I should have died last summer. I should be dead. I don’t want to live anymore.

-DW (itshouldhavebeenme)

I feel so fucking invisible sometimes. Like I’m a ghost and everybody can see through me. Like if they touched me they wouldn’t feel it. No one feels anything, do they?

I wonder if my mom wishes it was me instead. I wouldn’t blame her.

My art teacher asked us to do a still life today and I started crying in class. I had to leave the room but everybody was staring after me. What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I remember how to be okay?

If one more person calls me a faggot in the hallway I’m going to make sure they fucking regret it. I am so fucking sick of strangers telling me who I am and trying to make me feel guilty for it. As if I have the energy to care anymore. As if I have the energy to bother. They’re never going to hate me more than I hate myself. That’s how you get them.

I found out that today is Brendon’s birthday. April twelfth. I think that if I knew him I would go all out. I would get him the best present, whatever he wanted, and I’d kiss him and spend time with him and we’d go to a nice dinner and I’d let him make every decision. I think that in a perfect world, I would be a good boyfriend. In a world where I’m stable and could take care of somebody else, then maybe I would be a good boyfriend. I hope he has the best birthday ever. I’m staying alive for him today, even if he doesn’t know it.

Ryan and Josh think it’s funny that I draw him from across the room during lunch. I think it’s really creepy. But I’ll still do it.

Oh my fucking God. He smiled at me today. It was an actual smile. I’ve never loved a smile so much. I want to keep that smile forever. I hope one day he lets me.

You know what? I need to start recording my good days as well as my bad ones. So today was alright. Yesterday was better. Every day is like a countdown except I have nothing to count down to. I’m just trying to live day to day now. It’s supposed to keep me alive but I feel like it’s just kind of proving how boring and useless my life really is. I have nothing to look forward to. It makes it hard to care about keeping yourself alive when you realize there’s no reason for it.

I’m so sick of having to be another year older. Every fucking year. It never ends. I feel like I should have been dead years ago. Sweet sixteen my ass. Let’s pray that this is the last one. Let’s celebrate Dallon Weekes, world. He’s going to go out with a bang.

Sometimes when people tell me they love me I think they’re lying. I don’t know when every thought turned into a manipulative one but I’m too used to it to stop.

I let myself get blood on my sheets instead of getting a bandaid when I cut my thumb today because I’m scared that if I go in the medicine cabinet then I’m not gonna be able to control myself. Maybe that’s a good thing. Two times the charm, right? Or maybe it’s the third. Either way, I’m sure it’ll happen again. You could just say that I’m very ambitious.

May 19 (one year.)

I don’t want to write this. I don’t want to think this, I don’t want to have to say this. But I’m sitting in front of you, and I’m letting myself think it, and I’m reading this out loud as I write it. It’s been one year. One year, and I swear that every day I wondered if I could make it. And I did, but it wasn’t for me. It was for her. Because she couldn’t lose everyone. She couldn’t lose her whole family. I just don't understand why it had to be you. Out of everyone in the entire world, why it had to be you.

I miss you. I miss you every day, more than anything I miss you. And it’s a part of me that’s gone, a part of me and my childhood and my smile. You’re the one who’s supposed to teach me how to do weird guy stuff like shave and whatever. You’re the one who’s supposed to teach me how to flirt and do art and you’re the person that I should go to when I need help. And I still have mom but it’s so different now. It’s like I’m too disappointing to her, and now neither of us are whole.

You needed to be here. The first time I got rejected, and the next time, if I ever work up the courage again. You’re supposed to be there for my first boyfriend, and to give me sex advice because I’m gonna have no idea what to do. You’re supposed to tell me cliché love stories about you and mom and I’m supposed to learn how to love from you. And you’re supposed to be there when I graduate high school and college, and when I move out, and when I get married and have kids and watch them graduate high school and college too. You’re supposed to be there. And you will be, in a way. Just. Not how I want you to be.

One year ago today.

-DW (imissyou)

Sometimes I think I’m happy and then I remember that’s just not how I’m wired. I’m wondering now if I can rewire myself. Maybe physically. I want to dye my hair and fuck off to someplace no one would ever expect like Alaska or Oklahoma or something and change who I am. I think I’m done being me. Sixteen years and it’s done nothing for me so far.

I can’t believe I made it through that stupid fucking school year without throwing myself off the roof. I found out how to get up there three weeks in, just in case.

July 2

So it’s been a year since I’ve tried to kill myself. A year since I realized how much of a coward I am. I couldn’t even commit suicide right. And Silo said once that I have to be a success story, like walking out of a psych ward will make me a different person. Forever changed. Like a few people telling me how to screw my head on straight will actually make me do it. A fucking success story. I’m not one. I don’t think that I’ll ever be one, either. It’s so much easier to get out of it than have to live like this. This isn’t a way to live.

A lot of people think killing yourself is the easy way out. People don’t say that if they’ve actually tried. Nothing about it is easy. Waiting for my mom to leave the house wasn’t easy. Having to find the perfect pills wasn’t easy. It wasn’t easy being tired and hopeless for weeks, either. Killing yourself isn’t the easy way out. But living isn’t easy, either. So every option sucks and I really just don’t know what to do about that.

They say that killing yourself is a sin. In the church, they say that. That if you kill yourself, you’ll go to hell. Hell never scared me. I think that to be scared of it you have to believe in it. Or you have to value yourself. I don’t know, entirely. And I don’t know what I believe. I haven’t been to church in a year. I don’t really know if I miss it.

-DW (theywouldntwantmeanyway)

I hate the summer. It’s hot and quiet and lonely. I think I need something to pass the time. I don’t have anybody to talk to because my friends just give me apology stares and are getting on my last nerve. They’re literally always on my last nerve. It’s so much easier to pretend they don’t exist and hope that they realize that I need them. I feel so pathetic trying to trick them into caring about me but it feels like it’s a moot point anyway.

Ryan was right. I only care about myself. Maybe I should just try again and no one will have to worry about me.

My basil sprouted, so. Maybe I’m doing something right. It’s about fucking time. I feel so useless all the time. I want to think that I’m doing good by putting something in the world that can be used instead of not doing anything worth my time. My mom can use it for dinner one night. Maybe she won’t hate me as much if I do something good for once.

Summer feels like a good excuse to go off the map and then just not let anybody know where you are and what you’re doing because maybe you deserve to be worried about now and then.

Ryan’s birthday is in a few days. What present says I’m sorry I have a crush on you and made you think I hated you because I tried to kill myself and ignored you for months?

Brendon paused his reading for a second and ran his fingers gently over the last page of Dallon’s freshman year, emotional and messy scribbles about his anxiety about the new school year, indented in the paper with black pen that pressed hard through Dallon’s anger. Dallon’s thumb nail traced shapes aimlessly on Brendon’s thigh and Brendon could see it in him, old versions, pieces of him that were glued though he tried to get rid of them. Better himself.

Brendon saw it in the black writing on the pages: his resentment, his manipulative tendencies. Had seen it a few times in him over the course of the past year, too. And it was nowhere near as blatant now, just a manifestation of his depression, trying to find some sort of care in anybody when he felt unloved. Brendon could understand it. He never meant to act the way he did.

He reached down to rub Dallon’s shoulder briefly, and it was hard to believe that that Dallon was still inside of his Dallon. A version of him he hardly knew, one Dallon had tried to smother, though Brendon knew it was hard to get rid of a part of you without hurting all the others. Every aspect of yourself was a package deal. That winter and spring he had trained himself how to find comfort in that.

“I’m glad you feel better now than you did back then.” He told him, not bothering to elaborate.

“Me too.” Dallon whispered, his voice sleepy, and with reluctance Brendon turned the page.

Sophomore year

Sept 12

I got home and slept from two thirty to three am. I’m writing this from my kitchen table, where the digital clock says three twenty-six and I’ve been staring at this paper for a while, trying to think of what to say. I slept for over twelve hours. I used to do that when I was a kid. I got tired easily. Something with my iron, or something, I don’t know. But when I was diagnosed my doctor told me that depression manifests itself in different ways. And for a little over a year now I’ve had it, or at least have been diagnosed, cause nobody really just develops depression. It just happens.

I didn’t think I had it. I thought that it was fucking stupid. I thought, of course I’m depressed, my father just died. Of course I’m going to be suicidal. They never understood that aspect. But lately I’ve been seeing it. In therapy and with my friends, cause I know they’re worried and they won’t say anything and then I just get annoyed at them for not being confrontational. I don’t know if that’s what I want. But I know I want the truth.

So I think they might have been right, and I think I might be depressed. Good for fucking them. I never even noticed. I don’t even think I know exactly what the symptoms are. Maybe I’ll do research. Maybe I won’t. Maybe I don’t care either way. Good luck, Dallon. You’re back on your own, this time with a mental illness to carry around the desert. But here’s the real kicker: you get no water or a break.

-DW (sickofbeingsick)

My parents liked the neighborhood because there were so many churches in it. My dad said that it was a good thing. I think that more churches just means that there’s a bigger chance I’ll be burned down in them.

New progression: he talked to me. We were standing in line for lunch and he said, “I’m starting to think that my immune system has built up because of all the weird modified food they’re feeding us”, and I said, “I think it’s making mine worse”, and he smiled at me like he didn’t expect me to respond. I hate small talk but I wish he would talk to me more often.

Josh liking guys is awesome because it’s like he and I are in a secret club that Ryan isn’t a part of. He had his chance. I think talking about cute boys to somebody who isn’t straight is potentially the greatest thing in the entire world.

Oct 31

I stayed home today. Never in my sixteen and a half years have I ever stayed home on Halloween. I usually go out with Ryan and Josh or even my parents but today I’m too tired. I’ve been tired for months. I think that’s probably the depression, that’s what my doctors say, but at least it’s not the alternative. I’m either tired and sad or angry. I’m sick of being angry all the time. Being tired is better than hating everyone and everything around you.

Anyway, I stayed home today. Because at lunch Ryan said that his girlfriend wanted to come with us trick or treating and I didn’t mean to snap but I thought we’d established that it was our thing. Josh said it was no big deal but I said it is, and Ryan got annoyed and said that maybe if I came out at school then I’d have a chance at dating someone and I couldn’t help it, because that’s the most assholish thing to say to a gay person. So I said, “well, obviously you’re not gay, so maybe you should keep your stupid hetero opinions to yourself”. Maybe it wasn’t, like, a nice thing to say, but Josh high fived me for it anyway.

I spent the night with my mom instead. We don’t do that a lot. We feel so estranged sometimes, like we’re strangers living in the same house. To be fair, she doesn’t know a lot about me. But she asked why I wasn’t going out, and I said that I fought with Ryan again and that I didn’t want to talk about it, and she said that we could watch a movie instead. It was weird, but... nice. I forgot what having a family was like.

-DW (ihatehalloween)

I apologized and everything’s fine but I still resent that I wasn’t good enough, somehow. And I know. I know. You don’t pick your sexuality. You can’t. You’re born that way. You can’t help it. I know. But fuck Ryan for not liking boys and God, please let Brendon be gay. Please. I need a win.

We shared a textbook in class today because they ran out and he didn’t have one and I offered to share. He was right there in front of me and no one was sitting with me and he looked like he was going to cry. He gave me the biggest fucking smile and said thank you but he stuttered and his face was red and he is so goddamn beautiful. He smells like strawberries.

I hate being so mad at my friends all the time. I just feel like such an unwanted obligation because I know they only talk to me out of pity now. Next time I try I hope I’ll succeed so they won’t have that burden anymore.

She called me Dals today. She hasn’t called me that in over a year. I think in some weird way we’re making progress. We barely talk, and when we do she just seems stressed, but today she asked what I wanted for Christmas. We don’t do a lot for Christmas but I was just happy that she talked to me without looking so disappointed. Isn’t that sad? It’s like the past year has been me fucking up and her trying to figure out why she puts up with me. I’m glad she does. She’s a good mother. I think I just want a family for Christmas this year.

I didn’t get my friends any presents this year because I feel like it isn’t worth it. They’re already mad at me and I’m mad at them. Fuzzy socks and candles aren’t gonna change that. I just feel like everything I do at this point is gonna end up badly. I’m not exactly a good omen.

It was too hard for me to watch a Christmas movie this year so my mom and I ordered food from one of those open every day places and we watched Grease for the thousandth time instead. I feel a little better about her these days. We’re kind of in the same boat, after all.

Jan 3 (new year, new me!)

I stayed home on new year’s this year. I never really do that. I always try to make a point out of starting the year off with something positive because grandma used to say that’s what sets your years. I figured that since she’s been around for a while she knows what she’s talking about. But Josh had a bunch of people over, including this guy he’s been talking to, and Ryan’s girlfriend was there. And she’s nice and I like her as much as I can but I have no one else and I don’t want to third wheel. Or fifth wheel. I just want to be alone. It feels pathetic hanging around him like a sad little puppy when he knows how I feel and I know where he stands.

So I stayed up past midnight and baked cookies, and I finished my Christmas break homework, and I watched TV until I fell asleep on the couch. And I didn’t talk to anybody because I didn’t have to. It’s blissful sometimes. My friends texted me to say happy new year and I ignored them and it felt so nice to not be tied down by other people for once.

I’m starting to hate leaving the house. Every time I do I just get disappointed. If you don’t leave the house then people can’t disappoint you as much. And I mean, there’s still social media, but it’s easy to just shut off your phone and pretend your friends aren’t your friends. I’ve gotten so used to pretending. I’m starting to get really good at it. I’m better off alone, anyway.

-DW

I hate when people read my messages and don’t answer as if what I have to say is unimportant. As if talking to me is inconvenient. I know it is, and I know that they hate me by now, but it’s not fair. I don’t know why they expect so much from me. They want me to talk to them so I try. They need to make an effort too. I know it’s hard but they need to make a fucking effort too. Sometimes I wanna bite my friends’ stupid little heads off.

Happy Valentine’s Day! I’m just gonna say it. I wanna fuck Brendon Urie. I never said that. I was never here.

Being sick makes me want my mom and then I realize that she probably doesn’t want me. It makes me feel pathetic all over again and it reminds me of everything I don’t have anymore. It makes me so nostalgic. Sometimes I just really wanna go back to being young, before all the resentment. Why am I such a child?

March 17

So today my mom put this little book on my bed when I wasn’t home. It was a guide to happiness using spirituality and shit. She does stuff like that sometimes. Makes insinuations that aren’t subtle at all about how much help I need. It’s funny that she gets so churchy when trying to help me. I don’t even know if I believe in God anymore. Why should I believe in something that clearly has no hope in me? I know she knows I’m unhappy, and she thinks I’m reparable, but I think she’s wrong. I’m always gonna be fucked up and sad and hopeless and no book or belief is going to change that.

I’ve gone to church every Sunday of my life until my dad died. Then it just seemed pointless. It’s so easy to believe someone has his hands on your life when you’re doing okay. And then a tragedy happens and suddenly it feels like no one is looking out for you. I realized then that I didn’t feel safe because of God, I felt safe because there was no reason for me not to. I don’t know what to believe anymore. That’s a really scary thought. Like I’m being left on my own.

I talked to Josh. It wasn't really intentional; he came to the library to print something and came over to say hi when he saw me. But he sat down, and he asked me if I ate lunch because I didn't have anything. I told him that I don't eat at school. And he asked the million dollar question: are you okay?

I didn't know what to say to that. Am I okay? That's a hard no. I haven't been okay for well over a year. I didn't know how to say no, I'm not okay. I hate my body. I hate myself. I hate every single thing about me. Every day I wake up feeling like my body is suffocating me. Like a straitjacket. I feel confined in myself. I'm not who I want to be. Nothing about me is what I want.

I just said I was fine. And he said Dallon, you should eat.

It didn't really occur to me until then that that sounded like torture.

So. My mom doesn't know. Ryan doesn't know. Even my doctors don't know.

I doubt God knows, either.

-DW (alwaysonmyownanyway)

It seems like Brendon Urie is just everywhere. Like whenever I’m having a bad day he shows up somewhere to make it all better. I don’t know how he knows but he knows. It’s comforting, in a way. Talking to someone who hardly knows me. I’m just so scared that one day he’s gonna ask me for the details and I’m gonna have to tell him everything. I know I would tell him everything. He has tell me everything eyes. It’s just so nice talking to someone who doesn’t know everything about me yet. It’s so easy pretending all my mistakes don’t exist.

I talked to Ryan for the first time in a month today. I’ve been going to the library for lunch every day because I can’t stand looking at him right now. It’s not anything he did, exactly, it’s just that he reminds me that I’m so good at fucking up. He was my best friend since we were babies and I had to ruin it. I don’t even know if we’re still friends anymore. Talking to him was weird and awkward and I miss him. I cried in the bathroom for ten minutes afterward. Why do I have to ruin everything?

The worst thing about being gay is that I feel like I can’t compliment boys without it being weird. For example, when I tell my friends I love their eyes, or they look nice, or if I were to tell Brendon that he has the nicest ass in the world. Yes, okay, I sexualize a boy I barely talk to. Sue me. It’s not like he’ll ever read this.

Here’s to seventeen. The con is living. The pro is that the Grand Canyon is really fucking cool. There’s my silver lining, mom’s self-help book, are you happy? I have to look for a silver lining. I hate trying to do that when I already feel so pathetic searching for something good in all of this. Maybe I should have jumped. What a way to go. It certainly would be an interesting story to show up in the news. As if I could make it that far.

I’m starting to think I’ll never be okay on this day again.

The past two years have been such a waste of time. Seriously. I thought that maybe I would get better, and literally anything would make me happy if I tried hard enough, but I’m just as miserable as I was when it happened. And I want to die just as bad, and I hate everybody just as much. Everyone told me that things would get better. So why haven’t they? I’m starting to think that this all is just... endless.

Loneliness is when your friends ask you to hang out and you say no so they hang out without you and then you get upset that they probably hate you. I’ve given them so many reasons to. I’m surprised they’re still trying with me.

I feel alone in every room I enter.

I wonder how long the human body can really go without food before it starts to eat itself.

Aug 9

I talked to Ryan today. Talked for real. We had a really long conversation for the first time in a while. And I told him that for the last two years I’ve been taking out my anger on him and I’m sorry. Because I started to like him when I was going through a lot. And then my father died, and I needed him. I just confused romantic and platonic love. I thought it meant more to him than it did. That was my dumb mistake.

But he made me feel safe. I needed him, and I thought he needed me too, but all we ever were were friends who helped each other. I thought that meant something more. It did to me. It still does. But I know he doesn’t like me like that. There’s nothing I can do about it now. I mean, he doesn’t even like boys. If he did then things would be different.

I think it was a good talk. I told him how I felt, how I relied on him and his rejecting me made me feel like I wasn’t worth it, almost. Because I was scared that I was losing everybody. And I never lost him, but I came pretty damn close. I just keep making mistakes, and I hate being mad at him. I hate yelling at him, and snapping, and thinking that he’s a bad friend. He’s been the best friend. I’m the one who fucked up.

I just had to tie up loose ends. I don’t think he has to worry about me anymore.

-DW (tyinguplooseends)

I’m done. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to try. Trying is so fucking useless. What’s the point when I know I’m going to fail anyway? Nobody needs me. I’m broken. I’m completely destroyed and damaged and ruined and I’m irreparable anyway. I just need somebody or something to take my life because I’m tired of trying to take it myself. I’ve tried but I don’t know how. I want to know. I just want to burn off all my flesh until I can see bone and then I want to carve them out too. One last try. I’m not gonna fuck up this time.

Brendon closed the book over his fingers and reached out to place a hand on Dallon’s back, making him mewl like a kitten being woken up. But he had to feel him. Sometimes he forgot that he was there. Sometimes he forgot how bad things could get. Dallon arched his back against Brendon’s palm and when he opened his eyes, Brendon wiped his cheeks from the wetness that had accumulated. “I hate knowing that you felt like this.” He whispered, and then, realizing that Dallon wasn’t reading it too, added, “I mean, thinking that nothing was ever gonna get better. Wanting to end your life.”

“You felt that way too, Urie.” Dallon reminded him, and then again he was right. What a horrible, horrible feeling. “I think writing helped. I used to do it a lot more. When I had no one to talk to. Or, well, I did, my parents and my friends, but sometimes I just had to rant. I’d write about Ryan, when his parents divorced and his dad left, or when Josh came out, and stupid stuff that doesn’t matter anymore. It was just... cathartic. Something that was there for me when I needed it. I feel like since you and I got together, I tried to focus on you more, you know? But it was still there.”

Brendon half smiled. “You wrote almost every day, Dallon.”

“I know. It was just... in between. In between all the days I was trying to spend with you. I wanted to live in the moment. But I still needed something that wouldn’t talk back when I needed to get everything out.”

“I understand. I should have had an outlet like this.” Brendon lamented, carding lazy fingers through his hair. “Maybe it would have made me less confused and scared and whatever. Having somewhere to get out all my feelings.”

“It could have been prosperous.” Dallon agreed, and Brendon tucked some hair behind his ear, stopping to feel his pulse slow as he drifted in and out of sleep.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He said quietly, and appreciated that Dallon had that whether it helped at the time or not.

Junior year

Sep 20

Antidepressants are horrible. Like, so horrible that they make me want to reach into my brain and just rearrange the neurotransmitters and give myself the right amount of serotonin because having to remember to take a stupid pill every day and then feeling out of control of my body is objectively the worst feeling ever. I miss when I wasn’t like this. Before everything. Not in limbo.

I think going off my meds in the first place was a stupid thing to do but now I’m sleepy all the time and not used to them and I feel gross. I might need to adjust them. I just wish I didn’t have to take them at all.

At least we made up, and we’re both making an effort. At least everyone accepted my apologies. I’m never going to stop apologizing because I have no idea how any of them stuck around for as long as they did. I’m just really glad my mom forgave me. I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. I’m just happy that I didn’t need to beg for forgiveness. I really need her right now. This year better be fucking worth it.

-DW

I didn’t think I was ever going to have an actual chance to speak to Brendon Urie but Ms. Brown really did it, huh? Here’s to hoping that a few conversations and a powerpoint are enough to make him fall in love with me.

I genuinely didn’t realize how real my infatuation with him was until now. He asks me questions and listens to me. I don’t think anybody’s listened to me before. It’s so refreshing, talking to somebody who doesn’t know everything bad about me. Somebody who doesn’t know anything about me, actually. I’m so torn between wanting to hide like I always do and wanting him to ask more questions so I can tell him everything about me.

How to flirt: wake up early and go to his diner for coffee when it’s out of the way and pray he’s working. Give him your money and act cute and pray he’s not freaked out. (That was a bribe, Brendon!)

He has to like me. He has to. He keeps smiling at me and blushing and he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t like me. I need him to like me. I need a win. I mean, everything he does. Everything he says. He has to like me. I need him to like me.

He said I was cute. Kind of. I knew those cat ears were a good idea. Next time I’m going to try to impress. I’ve never tried to pursue someone so I have no idea how else to do it. With Ryan I always just made him kiss me and somehow it fit. Now I don’t know what to do. How to act. I’m not usually this pathetic, am I?

Nov 2

My grandma used to tell me that God sent angels down to Earth in the form of people to watch and take care of us. I used to think that that was a very godly and Mormon thing of her to say, but now I’m not so sure. I mean, it’s still godly and Mormon no matter how you spin it, but it might be true. Brendon Urie might be one of those people.

I think he’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. And the most interesting, and the most beautiful, probably. I like to watch him. And not in that creepy way where it... y’know, sounds creepy. I just like watching him do everyday things. Because he’s so interesting. It’s like he doesn’t know it, either. He just fumbles a lot and blushes and it’s so endearing. I never really thought something like that would be.

I can’t tell how he feels about me. I know it’s stupid but I feel like maybe there’s something more. So what if there is? What if he likes me? He can’t not like me. Or maybe he really is this awkward with everybody else. Every signal he sends me is mixed. I don’t know what this is anymore. But he makes me so weirdly and unusually happy. Ugh. I don’t know what to do.

-DW

Ryan giving me relationship advice is probably the weirdest and grossest thing ever. I never want to have that conversation again. But I also kind of love him for it. Things feel normal again. I never realized how much I need my friends sometimes.

How can Josh get a boyfriend and I can’t? I mean, I’m less attractive and awkward and unappealing but god forbid somebody falls in love with me. I’m gonna be one of those people who never has a boyfriend. I’m just gonna die alone.

Dec 25

Okay. I can’t figure it out. I’ve been trying to since I got home. Did we actually hold hands? Did it mean more? Because nowadays I can’t tell and I’ve been trying to ask him out for weeks and I can’t fucking do it. I can’t tell if anything means anything with him. He’s already one of the best friends I’ve ever had.

He invited me over for Christmas because he knows how bad this day is for me. Let me talk about things that don’t have anything to do with him. I know he’s curious but it’s one thing to listen to someone and another thing to really hear them. I don’t know how but he knows, and he understands. He understands in this stupid weird way that I don’t even really get but it’s okay because I don’t need to.

I wanted to kiss him today. I would have. Because he has to feel the same way. I’ve been trying to read him from a distance for years and he isn’t like this with Tyler. Flustered and flirty and... I don’t even know if it’s flirting. I just know that something about this doesn’t feel one sided.

It feels like he understands me and gets me and cares about me. And I need someone to care about me. I need someone who invites me over on one of the saddest days of the year and holds my hand and listens to me and lets me cry with him. I need someone like Brendon Urie. I’m so glad we happened to be at the right place at the right time.

-DW

I spent new year’s with Ryan and Josh and it feels nice to celebrate something new with people who should hate me. I’m so thankful for them sometimes. I can’t believe they still love me. Now, my new year’s resolution: make Brendon Urie mine.

I can’t believe there are people in this world who don’t think Brendon is the greatest, sweetest thing. I’ve only really known him for three months but he makes my life better. A lot better. So him telling me that people bully him is like a punch in the face.

If he doesn’t know I like him then I don’t know what to do anymore. We make jokes and spend every waking second together and I compliment him and we napped together. No one naps with their friends!!!!!!

Feb 5

Today was so dumb. So fucking dumb. It was stupid and I fucked up and it’s my fault that he’s gone. I mess everything up. I don’t know how I even managed this long without ruining something. I wish I just told him I liked him. It would have made everything okay. It would have been perfect. Now I know. I just wish he had told me sooner.

But somehow every Brendon related dream I’ve had for the past two and a half years came to life today. I can’t believe he kissed me. I can’t believe I let myself pull away. This sounds like a bad Disney show. But really, Brendon, what the fuck? You can’t just... kiss a boy like that. You can’t just leave him crazy and not answer his calls. It’s like a dream and a nightmare and the past few months have all been a lie, right? He’s liked me this entire time. Neither of us knew what to say. I can’t believe I didn’t see it. I swear that if I ever get ahold of him I am never letting go.

-DW (helovesmehelovesmenot)

I miss him like crazy. It’s only been a few days but I never want to know what a life without him is like. He won’t talk to me and I don’t know why because if he would hear me out I would just tell him that I’m so fucking head over heels in love with him and he doesn’t have to be embarrassed with me. I never want him to feel like this is anything short of perfect.

The taste of his lips is so distinct and I don’t know how to explain it. I feel so dizzy and stupid right now. I never knew how he felt about me but I was psyching myself out. I wanted to believe the worst because he’s too good for me. I know he’s going to find out all the bad things but if he does I have a feeling that he’s not going to be bothered by them. He’s going to ask questions eventually, but that’s fine. I want him to ask. I want him to know me.

We went on a date today. And it was beautiful, and perfect, and Brendon is the most gorgeous boy in the world and he’s so awkward and funny and I am so fucking crazy about him. And I think he’s crazy about me too. It’s like every time we talk now I can feel how much he likes me. I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited about something before in my life.

I have a real life actual boyfriend and HE IS PERFECT.

My mom does this crazy thing where every time I’m happy she likes to go nope! and fuck it up. Trying to replace him isn’t okay. I thought we were a family. I guess that doesn’t matter to anyone anymore. I never wanted to cry in front of Brendon but I’m just preparing him for when we’re even closer and he knows more about who I am. But the best part is that he’s helping. That means something. That means more than anything. And he lets me talk about my dad and he lets me tell him stories and he’s helping. If there’s any silver lining, he’s it.

I don’t know how he’s even capable of inspiring me so much. It’s like... he believes in me, and he doesn’t just say it but he shows it. That is so strange to me. I can’t believe that such an amazing, kind, unique person sees so much good in me when no one else does.

I know I have problems with eating, especially in front of other people, but now I can eat an entire pizza with him and it’s nothing. I don’t even think about everything that makes me anxious when I’m with him. I don’t worry about what I’m eating or my doctors’ stupid restrictions or if he’s going to judge me because I know he won’t. I love how much I feel like I can be myself when I’m around him.

We’ve been dating one month. One month, and I’m already so crazy about him. I don’t even know how I physically am able to have these feelings. I’ve never been able to see myself caring for someone like this but he makes everything so easy. He makes falling in love with him so easy. He is so unreal.

I’m in so deep. It’s like every time he speaks to me I feel my heart pounding because I can’t believe he’s mine. I forget that sometimes. That he’s mine. That he’s my Brendon.

Silo called today to talk about how I feel about Ryan breaking up with his girlfriend. It’s the first time he’s been single since we became friends again. And I thought that when it happened I would feel... different. Sad. Or lost, or something. And I do, in a way, and I think there’s a piece of me that’s always gonna wonder, but things aren’t like they were last year. I have a boy who I really, really like. And I don’t want to live in the past. So I told Silo that I’m okay, and I feel weird, and maybe a little nostalgic, but there’s a boy who likes me back. I’m getting used to letting the past be in the past.

May 15 (happy?)

I don’t know why, but Brendon Urie cares so much about me. And it’s weird, because I’ve had people care about me, but not like this. It’s almost like this means more. Not because he’s a boy who likes me back, or because he’s pretty, or he’s my boyfriend, but because he’s him. Because it just feels like it’s more important, somehow.

If anyone asked me a couple of years ago if I thought that it was possible to fall in love in high school, or with someone you’ve only been dating a few months, I would have said no. But then my father died and it made me think a lot about time, especially around this time of year, and how we don’t have a lot of it. Or we don’t know if we have a lot of it. I don’t know. The point is, I’m scared that I don’t have enough time either, and I want to tell Brendon how I feel about him but I think it’s too soon.

But I am so crazy stupid in love with him and I’ve never been dizzy happy before. I don’t even know if I’ve been happy at all. But he cares about me in a way that no one ever has. Maybe it’s pathetic of me to fall for a boy because he brings me fries and smiles at me across the room but I can’t help it.

-DW (icantbelievehowmuchilovehim)

Brendon told me that he’s been anxious lately and I want to help but I don’t really know how. I’m trying to be a good boyfriend and I want him to feel like he can come to me but I guess it’s not that easy. We have to build each other’s trust. But still, I’m trying. I’ve been trying for a really long time to get better and care more about people and I think I’m doing okay. I’m doing better than I was a year ago, anyway. I just want him safe and happy and I want to help. I just don’t know how.

Brendon Urie loves me. Like, he actually does. I’m not even making it up this time. How is this real? How is he real? How is he okay with everything I told him? He really is the most incredible boy I’ve ever met in my life.

I’ve been thinking a lot about sex. And I’m scared that he’s going to hate my body or not think I’m good enough or not like it because it’s me. I’m not good at things. And I want to be with him but what if it’s horrible and awkward and he hates me after? I’m ready, but I don’t know if my insecurity is.

I... bought condoms today. I might have to order them online after that.

July 17

So... I slept with Brendon. And it was awkward and wonderful and I think I’m even more in love with him. I didn’t even know that that was possible. And it was like... neither of us knew what to do, and I was trying to do everything I thought I was supposed to do, what people told me and what I read. And I think one day we’ll both understand exactly how to do it and how our bodies work together, but right now I’m glad that we’re in the place that we are.

I think that sometimes my love for him consumes me. I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I think that he’s my best friend, and my confidant, and the love of my life. And that’s important, that he’s so many things for me. I can’t explain it but I feel like a better person because of him. He makes everything better, somehow. Even on days where I don’t think that’s even possible. I don’t know how I went so long without him. I feel like I’ve known him my whole life.

It was like I forgot about everything I hate about myself with him. Like my body wasn’t my body, it was just... me, and him. He’s everything I wish I was, his body and his heart, but I don’t let myself be jealous of him. I let myself learn from him. I learn to appreciate my own body, I be the person I want to be and not the person my past says I am. I think he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

-DW

His inquisitiveness inspires me. I love how much he wants to get to know the world around him. Being unjaded is like walking on fresh snow and it is so, so beautiful on him. Even when his questions are silly and embarrassing, because he just makes it work so well. I hope he keeps asking me things forever.

I learned this weekend that one day I want to live with Brendon Urie. Maybe forever. I want to wake up to him and fall asleep with him and eat dinner in our underwear just because we can. I want to think it’s annoying when he asks questions during movies but I can’t because I know it’s in his nature. I want to make a mess with him and I want to shower together and have sex and stay up all night talking because we’ll always try to get to know each other better. I think this weekend proved what I’ve known: I am so unmistakably, undeniably, irrefutably, madly in love with Brendon Urie. I think he’s it.

Sunshine looks so good on my boy. Especially when he’s smiling like that. Especially when I know it’s for me. I’m having so much fun with him this summer. I can’t believe he’s scared of the ocean. Somebody so... big hearted and open. It’s kind of ironic, but the look on his face when he conquered it made me smile anyway. This was one of the best months of my life.

Brendon took a second to breathe, because he almost didn’t want to read about the year that changed his life. The few months on paper to document his mistakes, ones he felt like he would never lay to rest. He placed a hand in between Dallon’s shoulder blades, rubbing gently so not to wake him in his state of somnolence. Summer was beautiful. It was just that they didn’t know how to make it last.

Senior year

Day one, year four, I’m tired and I miss the summer and spending every day with Brendon. I can already feel my stress eating away at me and I’m only halfway through today. Just one more year. You can do it, Dallon. You’ve made it this far.

I haven’t written all month but I’m busy. Balancing school and being a good boyfriend and son and friend is hard. And painting a mural. God, I’m painting a mural. A commissioned mural. How did I become a boy who has sex and paints murals?!?!? This is a dream.

I hate not having time. So. Much. I hate neglecting Brendon and hearing about him getting bullied when I’m not around to help and not seeing anybody I care about because I’m so busy trying not to fall behind like always. I just want him to be happy and I want to give him all my attention and this year sucks so far.

Oct 11

Fighting with Brendon might be one of the worst things I’ve ever been through. Because I hate being reminded that he isn’t as sweet and innocent as I think he is. Because it makes me wonder how I can love somebody who deliberately tried to hurt me. Well, I hurt me too. So I hope he takes that to heart. I hope he knows now that I beat myself up enough and he doesn’t have to beat me up too.

I spent the weekend at the psych ward again. And Dr. Winslow and I talked again like we used to, and I told her about me and Brendon and everything that I won’t ever admit to him. How I’m scared to commit to him. I am. And I hate myself for it, because he doesn’t deserve me, but I refuse to let him go, anyway. That’s selfish of me, but I don’t care. I love him and I don’t want to let him go but I’m scared that something’s not right. Something really isn’t right. I want to fix it but I have no idea how.

We’re torturing each other. I think he’s finally realizing I’m not what he bargained for.

-DW (notgoodenough)

We went on a date and it almost felt normal. Maybe this is the new normal. I’m scared for him. I’m scared for me too. I just want things to get back to the way they were before but I’m worried that it’s irreparable now. What if I can’t fix things? What if I end up resenting him? I don’t, at least I don’t think I do, but I don’t know what’s going on. This isn’t him. I never thought the only person to ever really make me happy would make me cry, too.

I don’t know why my mom tells me she loves me and then keeps on doing this to me. I’m so sick of feeling like a second choice. I feel like a stranger in my own home. It doesn’t even feel like home anymore. I don’t want to be here anymore.

I’ve been at Ardan’s for a few days and I can’t find it in me to go home. I will before the weekend, I know I have to, but I also know what I’m gonna have to face when I get there. I saw the messages. Brendon’s going to be upset. Ryan’s pissed. I just don’t want to talk to my mom. I don’t want to see anybody right now. I wish I could just pause time so I didn’t have to hurt them but I don’t know how to do that so I have to put me first. Sometimes I just have to put me first.

I know he’s mad but I need a break. I feel like I can’t breathe. I feel so suffocated. I don’t know if it’s my family or friends or Brendon but I’m under so much pressure and I don’t care what any of them want anymore because no one wins if I end up killing myself.

So I think we might break up. I don’t want to. But I think we might have to. We can’t keep hurting each other. I keep wondering if it’s worth it at this point. If we’re uselessly hurting or if there’s an end game. If we can get through this and deal with the scars that came from it because it’s not gonna end effortlessly. I just wish I could see into the future and know if Brendon is in it so I know if it’s worth it to keep fighting. I want as much time with him as I can but I’m scared it will end up hurting me more in the end.

I’m gonna kill myself. I keep thinking over and over how useless this all is. We’re all gonna die. I should just speed the process along. It wouldn’t matter, anyway. Brendon’s beautiful and he can have anyone he wants, my mom can deal, my friends will get new friends. Why should I be the one to suffer just to please everybody else? It hardly seems fair. I should just down all my pills again. Or maybe I’ll get creative and slit my wrists in the bathtub this time.

Sometimes I think he overestimates how much he loves me. Like he doesn’t even know and he’s just throwing a dart and hoping for the middle. Sometimes I think he hit the edge.

“Did you really think this?” Brendon asked quietly, tears in his eyes, not wanting to remember that month but daring to anyway. He turned just the slightest bit when there was no response, but he’d realized then that some time had passed, so many kind words had become brutal, and Dallon was fast asleep, nose pressed against Brendon’s thigh.

And Dallon wrote it so of course he had thought it. Brendon knew that. He just didn’t want to believe it. Because June and July and August were so warm, happy, and then all of a sudden October loomed like a dark cloud. So full of hatred and doubt. Resentment. Of Brendon, and then of himself for being angry with Brendon. Like he didn’t know who to be mad at because it was just so much easier than letting things slide.

Oct 23

I always wonder what would drive me to attempt again. It’s been a little over a year since the second one and I don’t know what’s gonna cause the third. I always thought it would have to be worse than last time, but sometimes I think I’m too numb to feel that much anymore. And then sometimes it hits me, and I realize there are things for me to lose. That is so fucking beyond terrifying.

So I always wonder what would drive me to attempt again. And today I figured it out. I think— and I know it’s horrible and sad and pathetic— but I think that losing somebody again would make me kill myself.

It’s manipulative. Maybe not, but the fact that Brendon is in my head makes it so. I never wanted to let this happen. I never wanted to manipulate him. I’ve done it way too much. And I don’t think I could ever tell him. I don’t want that pressure on him. I want him happy and safe and not scared. He’s too fucking scared. He’s scared of me. What if that means something?

Today he said he doesn’t know what he wants. And that scares me too. I never get scared unless it’s bad. I think this might be bad. I think that there’s something wrong and I don’t know how to fix it. And I love him, my love for him is so visceral that I can feel it in my veins sometimes when I look at him. Or hear his voice, his name, think about him, it’s all him. And I think losing him might be that something worse than last time. Worse than feeling numb. Losing the only thing that makes me feel alive.

-DW (ihopeheneverleavesme)

I’m not going to write down what happened last night. I’m not going to write it down because I know I’ll remember it forever. I need to say this, though: I love Brendon Urie. With all of me, I love him. I’ve never regretted anything more than I regret the past month. I wish I had been better to him. I feel like it’s my fault. Everything is always my fucking fault. I’m a horrible boyfriend. I’m a horrible person.

I wish I was as strong as him. I’m so proud of him sometimes. I just wish he didn’t have to know what this feels like.

Nov 29

I was never... bullied. People have said shit to me and there are definitely people who don’t like me, but I was never bullied. Brendon is one of those people who I swear I’ve only seen on TV. People used to make fun of him in locker rooms and post things about him online. They give him dirty looks in the halls and shove him against lockers and call him names in class as if the teachers aren’t even there.

I didn’t see it until he and I became close. It’s like all the bad things were invisible to me until he became mine. But now I see it, and I don’t know how he feels and that somehow makes it worse.

Brendon is one of the most special people I’ve ever met. He’s smart but he doesn’t know it. He’s soft and kind and adorable. And the fact that people go out of their way to make him feel bad is heartbreaking because nobody like him should be bullied. Nobody should be bullied. It’s just sad how unfair it is. People have been bad since he was assaulted. It’s like it brought all this new attention to him and suddenly he’s public enemy number one again. Not that he wasn’t before, but in October things were kind of focused on us.

Some people called Brendon a slut. Brendon isn’t a slut. Brendon is like, the anti-slut. He’s a negative slut. He’s never done anything slutty in his life. I’m more of a slut than Brendon is. But people see what they want to see. They see a gay boy being easy in the school bathroom. They see a gay boy cheating on his boyfriend because they want to think they’re all promiscuous. They see a gay boy crying rape because they’re all attention whores. They see a gay boy. And it’s not fair, and we both know what really happened, but no one cares because it was a gay boy.

I was never bullied so I don’t know how Brendon feels. I was never touched so I don’t know how Brendon feels. All I know is that my boyfriend is the kindest, most honest, most innocent person I’ve ever met. And he’s not a slut. He’s not any of the mean things anybody calls him in the halls, or posts about online, or says behind his back when they’re at his diner. I believe the best in Brendon. Even when nobody else does.

-DW (ifyouhurthimyouhurtme)

I feel like all I do these days is make him cry. I just want to do better. I want to stop making so many mistakes. How do I do that when I’ve never known how? It’s in my blood to make mistakes. Or maybe not, my parents never did, but somewhere I picked it up. I’ve always just disappointed everyone.

I think wishing on real stars and fake stars are really similar. Neither ever get me anywhere.

I knew he wasn’t going to be ready. I told him he wasn’t going to be ready. I feel like I violated him, somehow. It was his decision but I still feel like I hurt him.

This Christmas I want to get him happiness but I don’t know how. I have to settle for trying to make him happy in all the ways I do know how. It’s getting harder and harder now, though. I just want him to be okay. I want him to stop pretending that he is.

So Ryan came out today. I wasn't expecting it, but maybe I should have been. I'm just so conflicted now. Worried that this changes things, and makes Brendon and I more fragile, because he knows now everything that happened. Well. Not everything. But enough. Enough to judge me. I know he wouldn't, but how can I trust that? I've made a lot of mistakes. Ryan was never a mistake. Just the way I went about it was. I need to talk this out. Figure out how I'm feeling about this. I'll call Silo later.

New year, same... well, writing the same thing would be such a cliché.

Jan 20

Being on a break may potentially be the worst thing for me right now. I’m bad again, and it isn’t as bad as it was back then but it’s pretty close. I don’t want to blame Brendon because that would be stupid. It’s not his fault. It’s never really his fault. He’s doing what he needs to do for himself and I understand that. It’s my fault, really. I think I’m wired to be at fault. It’s just that I miss him, and I feel empty. Like we’re fighting again, and like we exist on opposite ends of the earth. I don’t know if we’re ever gonna find each other again.

I told myself I would never be that boy who relies on someone else to make me happy. But how can I help it? I’ve always been unhappy. The only one that makes me feel anything is Brendon. So what am I going to do if this break becomes permanent? It’s only a matter of time. He’s trying to see if he works better alone but I wish he would just realize that we need each other. My therapist always said not to be that way, reliant and obsessive, but I don’t care. This isn’t my mental illness. This is me. I miss him. I don’t want to live without him.

-DW

I got drunk because I’m stupid and have no self-respect and I miss him and I miss me and I miss us and the way things were. I hate who I’m becoming. I hate who I became years ago. Or maybe I’ve always hated me. And I don’t know why I can suddenly feel everything when I never used to. I don’t know why I’m not numb when it’s him. It’s like I have this vision where I only see him. I don’t know if that’s a bad thing or not.

I still think he’s innocent. I know he doesn’t think so but I really, really do. He’s soft and childlike and still has this eternal sunshine that I wish I had. I don’t even think I had that when I was little. And in all the time I’ve known him he’s always had so many questions. That’s my favorite thing about him. He’s so curious, and he tries to get his answers. I wish I had been more like that.

So Brendon told me today that he wants to try to sleep together again. I’m going to be cautious, but I think the past few weeks have been important for him. I’m glad they helped. I’m glad he’s feeling okay. I’m crossing my fingers that this is the first step to him being better. I’m gonna pray for him every day from now on. I’m gonna go to church on Sunday and ask God to heal Brendon’s soul, as cliché as it is, even if it means the two of us committing sins. But I don’t think our love is a sin. I don’t think God would think so either. Sins aren’t this strong.

I told him. About my eating disorder. And it's relieving, and terrifying, and I don't know what to think about this. If it was the right thing. I'm so scared of him seeing me differently.

I’ve never been one to let nightmares get to me. I like to think that despite my illness I have two feet set in actuality. Idealism is a cliché anyway. But Brendon having nightmares is different. I can hear him sometimes, talking in his sleep and making these scared noises and I hate that I can’t help him. Last night was bad. I’m worried that this is another step back. I can’t tell if things are getting better or worse.

March 2

Brendon always seems to care so much about what other people think. It’s not a bad thing, I think it’s good to be cautious of things that some of us aren’t. Is ignorance really bliss? I try not to care what people say, it’s taken years but I think I’m okay at it. There are opinions that matter and opinions that don’t. And, okay, maybe a lot of my narcissism is my mental illness, I really don’t care about most people, but Brendon is on this whole other level. I try not to listen to what people say. Brendon takes it all to heart and practically tattoos it on himself. I love that he always seems to try and take every possibility into consideration. That’s something that may have helped me in the past.

The thing is, though, is that when you let people get to you, you start to hold yourself back. If you’re gay and scared of what people think then you might hide that part of you away until you trick yourself into thinking you’re straight. Lie to yourself your entire life. Or if you love dancing but you’re too embarrassed to be judged, you’ll never dance and you’ll miss all the fun. Or if you’re too scared to put your ideas out into the world then you might not change it.

I can’t even fathom how many people could have cured cancer or created unthinkable inventions or wrote the next best groundbreaking novel but didn’t because they were too scared of what other people thought. I never want to be one of those people who lets others scare me into hiding. I don’t want my boy to be either. Brendon Urie is too amazing to be held back. Especially by himself. Especially by society’s standards.

I think sometimes that he’s too good for this all. He’s too pure. He’s too innocent. I wish he didn’t have to see how bad everything could be. I never wanted him to be in the same place that I was.

-DW

I’ve been working on scholarship applications and searching for backup schools in case I can’t get into art school. Researching minors and looking at course catalogs and apartments, just in case Brendon says yes when I ask him to move in with me. There are a few nice ones. I really hope I don’t have to dorm. I hate the idea of dorming. It’s like a college themed psych ward, except for the most part everyone’s got their heads on straight. Sharing a bathroom with dozens of people. Having a stranger as a roommate. It sounds terrible. I hate the idea of college in general, actually. Why is it so important? I’m probably going to end up a vagrant anyway. It’s going to be so cool.

I love Brendon so much that my heart hurts. It’s like everything I do, I want to do to make him happy. Sometimes getting him to smile still feels like a victory. And every time he tells me he loves me I feel weak. I can’t believe how lucky I am. I love him so fucking much. I can’t believe how much he’s taught me.

April 21

This has been one of the worst weeks of my life, and that’s really saying something. Brendon being hurt makes me hurt and I feel it so deeply it’s like our souls are one, or something. I know that’s cliché but seeing him cry makes me cry and I’ve never been that way with anyone. It’s just that he’s a part of me and when he’s sad I am too. I just want to take all of his pain and put it into me because I’m already damaged but he’s too perfect to know how badly this hurts. I don’t want him to know how bad it can get.

And when he’s standing there in the cold rain trying to ruin what we’ve spent over a year building, it makes it even worse. Because he knows how I feel about him. He knows I would do anything for him. He knows, and somehow he still doesn’t believe it. I know it’s not him but his invasive thoughts are a part of him too, right? That’s how it is? They’re a part of him too. And it’s scary that a part of him wants to cut me off so that it makes it okay when he’s gone. Nothing could ever make it okay if he were to be gone.

I know that things aren’t okay right now. I know he’s scared, and I know he doesn’t think he can do it, but he doesn’t understand how much I love and need him. He doesn’t get it. I need him to get it. I need him, and sometimes I think that maybe I don’t tell him enough. I will.

-DW (ineedhim)

So I went back to the hospital this week. Everyone wants me to get help and I know that now. I used to think it was because they wanted to get rid of me but now I know it's because they want to help me. I need to fix me and Brendon. I'm gonna do everything I can. So I invited him, and I showed him around, and I let him in. That's more than I've ever done. So I swear that everything will get better.

Things feel okay again. We’re trying to fix whatever was wrong and I don’t know if it’s working but I’m praying that it is. I want to be more open with him, and I’m trying to tell him the truth. We have communication issues and it’s not going to help us if we keep lying to each other or hiding because we’re scared. I’m not always going to be who he wants me to be. We have to make compromises. I’m okay with that if he is.

He makes me feel wanted. I don’t think I’ve honestly ever felt wanted before. I really am lucky to have someone like him. Even with all the ups and downs. He just reminds me every day why I fell in love with him.

May 20

This is the only time I’ve ever liked a May before. Or at least since I was fifteen. Maybe it’s a breakthrough or just Brendon Urie being the best thing that’s ever happened to me because it feels easy with him. Easier than it always is. Dealing with all the bad things is just an obstacle because in a few weeks I’m gonna have the love of my life to come home to. Because he’s gonna pick out the ugliest decorations and I’m gonna be okay with that because I want him happy. And we’re gonna wake up together every day and keep having amazing sex and I’ll make him host Mario Kart parties with me because we’re gonna take advantage of living alone together. And I’m gonna be happy, because I deserve to be, and so is he because he deserves it more than anyone. It’s only a few more weeks. I can’t believe how lucky I am.

I don’t think May is ever going to be a good month for me. But Brendon Urie makes it a better month. He makes it a better life. I’ve become a pro at fucking up relationships, I have with everybody I’ve ever cared about, but I’ve been lucky in the sense that they’ve all stuck around. Ryan and Josh and my mom and now Brendon. I’m not always lucky. But with them I am. And it makes me feel safe, having all of them in my life. Having friends who care about me and a mother who would do anything for me and a boyfriend who loves me, because a few years ago I didn’t think that would ever happen.

I never thought that I would be ending my senior year about to move in with a boy who, two years ago, I cried in the school bathroom with because we were both hurt in different ways, him because of others and me because of myself. I never would have thought that this timid little thing that sat across from me in the library one day, too scared to have a conversation, would be one I would be falling asleep with every night. Or that the boy whose phone I honestly still think I shattered would be the boy I wake up to every morning. This boy. The boy. I don’t even think he knows how many times he saved my life.

-DW

It’s getting to be a game, almost. Going through our lives and seeing what we want to take to the next chapter. I’m scared, and excited, and sad, and happy, and Brendon fell asleep an hour ago as we finished getting rid of my shitty old clothes but I’m still awake, wondering about our future. If we’re going to make it in college. If he’s going to love me even when I’m a struggling artist who can hardly make rent (because I’m expecting the bare minimum, just to be prepared!). If he’s going to say yes when I propose and have kids with me and find our dream home and raise them there, with a big backyard and so much love that we’ll forget how hard our lives were once upon a time. I’m nervous, but excited for the rest of my life. I’ve never said that before. Not before Brendon.

June 13

It’s like an end of an era. Except the era was filled with heartbreak, and fighting, and pain, and fire. But it wasn’t all bad. It was filled with love, too. And compassion and respect and honesty, raw honesty. And, well, fire. But the good kind. The kind that makes you want to keep your eyes open because you’re scared to miss it. The kind Brendon Urie has lit.

He has this certain way of breathing. It’s cute, like a sleeping cat, almost. This faint sound that I can hear when the room is quiet. And he’s breathing right now, and that’s not usually something I pay attention to. But today, it is. Because today, I’m thinking about him. I always do. I always am. He’s my first thought and last thought every day. Cliché, painfully, but true. Because he changed my life. Because I changed his. And I saved his, but what he doesn’t realize is that he saved mine too.

It’s been over four years since my father died. It’s been a year and three months (and twelve days) since Brendon and I decided to start changing each other’s lives in a more intimate, perfect way. And it hasn’t been all perfect. It’s been eight months since his life was changed in the worst way. And I’ve been changed before. I’ve been ruined before.

My Brendon is an innocent one, one he’s scared is gone, but the truth is he’ll always be my Brendon no matter who he is. Because smiling in my passenger seat or crying in my lap or asking me embarrassing questions or down on his knees, he’s my boy, he’s my everything, he’s whoever he wants to be and he’s proud of that. I’m proud of that, too.

And I think these past few months he’s proven how strong he is. I used to think he was strong, way back when, but that was before I really saw him. Before I knew just how true that is. Because the world targeted him and tried to break him but he wouldn’t let it. He came close but he didn’t. He is so much stronger than I ever could have been. And of that, I am so proud.

Because he’s strong, and he’s smart, and he’s capable. He doesn’t think so, sometimes, but I never know how to get through to him. One day I hope I will. I’ll never leave his side until he gets that. I’ll never leave anyway. I made myself that promise.

It rained a lot this year. Boulder City never rains. I think it was God pouring one out for us. A pity rain. Like He was saying well, good luck, kids. Here’s one on me. But it rained, and I think it changed things. I think maybe it made them better. It took a few months, but it had cleansed us, almost, washed us of the sins we never committed or the ones we almost did, anyway. I think that this rain changed us too. I think

Nothing. The sentence stopped there. Brendon frowned, heart racing, and dropped the book in his lap, finding his hands shaking as he turned toward a sleeping Dallon and placed a hand on his arm. “Dallon.” He said, shaking him just the slightest. “Hey, Dallon.”

Groggily, Dallon squinted up at him, resentful of the interruption but eyes still honey sweet. “Hm?” He rubbed at his eyes, suppressing a yawn.

“What were you gonna say?”

He shifted, tilting his head upward just enough to catch the franticness in Brendon’s gaze. “What?”

“The, the entry. You were writing about me. This year, and how bad it was, but how things got better. You said ‘I think’ and then it just stops. I need to know what you were gonna say.”

Dallon smiled lazily against his thigh, and there was that desire for omniscience. He’d lost it somewhere on the way to here, dropped it and never bothered looking, but somehow it clung to him and carved its way to bone. Dallon missed that. “I think that even though we lived like we didn’t know we were gonna die, or rather, like we knew there was no point because we would, we found some way to leave ourselves better than we found them. We found out how to be remedied.”

Brendon swallowed like something was caught in his throat, tears of overwhelm, and laid the notebook down in his lap to rest. There was hardly any room on the last page, anyway, the book thicker than it should have been with stray papers that had been shoved in. Like a journal with memories glued inside, photos of pasts, a time that was maybe sweeter now that it was gone. Dallon reached out blindly for it, grabbing it from Brendon’s lap, and Brendon startled when he began to place it on the floor beside Brendon’s bed.

“You should write that down. I want to remember that.”

“You will.” Dallon promised, and Brendon didn’t know it at the time but in years that would remain true. “Come here, Urie. Come lay with me.”

Brendon did, sliding down beside him, welcoming a warm body against his own because Dallon was right, and things had changed. Maybe that was the point. Maybe the point was that it was impossible for him to predict the end because things always seemed to get jumbled up, thrown out of place, turned around. Brendon used to think that wasn’t a good thing. That was before he met Dallon Weekes.

Just like instinct Dallon nuzzled his face into Brendon’s shoulder and went to take his hand, twisting long fingers with shorter ones and sighing in content. And Brendon settled down, let Dallon’s hand play with the hem of his shirt, and stared at the ceiling, wondering how the world could take things away and give so much at the same time. Wondering if it was collateral, or just luck, or fate, or if it was just a boy that happened to fall for someone who needed him as much as he had.

As he ran a hand through feathery brown hair, and listened to his breathing slow, the words echoed in Brendon’s mind long after Dallon was asleep.


	74. Chapter 73: Any One Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy graduation!!! :)

There was a buzzing feeling in Brendon’s stomach when he woke up Tuesday morning, and whether or not it was anxiety or excitement was beyond him. But it was thrumming in his veins, the last day before graduation, the last known day of his high school career. Across town, his peers were waking up, ready to greet their last day as high schoolers. And Brendon sat up in bed, inhaled to take in the smell of the spring air, and smiled. Just another day and he’d be a high school graduate. He’d be three months away from a new school, a few days away from a new home, on the edge of a new life.

Dally: four days!!!! update: too many boxes in my room, tripped over one last night, it hurt

The message made Brendon smile so much his face hurt. Dallon had almost all of his belongings packed up, clothes and art supplies and everything else. Brendon had spent the weekend helping before he packed up his own things in the boxes his mom had picked up for him. He couldn’t decide what he needed and what he’d be leaving, but at some point the two had compromised on just about everything.

Bumblebee: oh no you’re picking up on my clumsiness

Dally: oh no cancel the move in I can’t be this way

Dally: should I drive you to school one last time my heart

Bumblebee: I’ll be waiting :)

Dally: on my way!

“Are you ready for your last day as a high schooler?” Brendon’s mom asked as he trotted into the kitchen, bouncing excitedly on his toes. He was scared for the future, but he was ready to get out. He and that school had felt like enemies for far too long. He just wanted to make amends and move on.

“I’m so ready.” He agreed, and even that was an understatement. “This school has kind of tortured me enough. I just can’t wait to get out.”

“I can’t believe my youngest is graduating. I’m so proud of you.” She pulled him into a hug, overly emotional. Brendon was the baby. He always had been. Now he was leaving, moving on, becoming an adult and getting thrown into an adult world. He felt ill prepared. Wasn’t that how everybody felt, though? Like they were sitting on an unsteady timeline, not really knowing what was next. Looking behind them and in front of them and trying to label any one moment as the best or worst when things were so much more complicated than that. There were a lot of moments. People lived for years. Decades. No single moment could be chalked up to one silly, nominal label.

I’m proud of me too, he thought, realizing then that most of the moments he had labeled before didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

Dallon pulled up when Brendon was leaving through the diner, making perfect timing as they had adjusted to. They both smiled, knew what today was: the last day before everything changed. It felt like things had changed so rapidly for the past two years, yet he still hadn’t gotten used to it. He guessed things had a way of sneaking up on him.

“Good morning, handsome.” Dallon greeted as Brendon pulled open the passenger seat, so full of sunshine today. It was his last day as a high schooler. It felt like the end of an era. It was, in a way. The end of his childhood. The beginning of something beautiful. “Ready for the last day of your high school career?”

“I’ve been ready since day one of freshman year.” He joked, but the truth was he was glad he’d been through it all. High school was a special kind of torture. Only the bravest made it through, scathed and gutted but still trying. He admired that about himself. That he stuck things out.

Dallon smiled that lopsided smile that Brendon loved so much, and he remembered the first time he saw it. And the time after that, and after that, and all the times he wished he could get to know that smile. It was funny how things changed so fast. How things changed at all, and managed to always find a bit of irony just for show.

“So, I went to the apartment last night. I couldn’t help it. I was driving by to pick something up at the store for my mom and I just saw it and I was like, I’m about to live here. So I went by.” He began; Brendon leaned his head back against the seat, smiling stupidly at him because he talked about the place so casually but the thing was, it was anything but casual. It was an insane milestone. Moving in together. “There are two bedrooms. So if you don’t wanna share with me, you can have your own.”

“I don’t want to.” Brendon admitted, playing with his hands like it were some big confession when really, Dallon found himself sleeping better with a body pressed against his. “I think a major step is sharing a room. It might get overwhelming but it’s gonna be a symbol, or something. Of our life together. So if you can handle that, I can handle that.”

“I can handle that.” Dallon assured him, and Brendon felt fuzzy inside when he thought about it. Anxious, too, scared to spend every night away from his family and nervous but happy, because transitions felt safer with someone to break his fall.

“You know what I realized, Dallon?” He asked suddenly, and Dallon turned to look at him. “I’ve been trying to find who I am since I was in eighth grade. And it took a long time, and a lot of thinking, but I realized that it was silly of me to think that I could just... look for me. I was never going to find myself that way. I don’t think we ever... find ourselves. I think we just kind of keep evolving. And knowing that, it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I don’t want to search for myself. I just wanna see where life takes me and hope that I learn how to navigate it.”

“I think that’s a good way to look at it.” Dallon agreed, and Brendon only wished it hadn’t taken him so long to realize it.

He had fixated on it for years. It was the center of everything in his life. Finding himself. It was why he put things in boxes and asked so many questions and was the person he was. He just didn’t realize that the things he did to try and find himself made up who he was all along.

He leaned back in the passenger seat and smiled. A year and a half ago, Brendon Urie and Dallon Weekes were assigned partners in some stupid history project. Always having known each other but never managing to take the step between acquaintances and friendship, it was an opportunity. An opportunity that came at the right time, because if it were any other then they knew they wouldn’t have been ready for it. But that was the year Dallon Weekes decided to get his shit together and Brendon needed someone to help him do the same.

It was just a little history project. Who knew the effect that it would have on them today.

Back then, when Brendon first went to Dallon’s house, he never predicted that he would make a home out of it. Or out of Dallon. Out of his world.

He learned through it all that there was no use in trying to predict anything.

He remembered the shock he felt when he first sat in Dallon’s car. It was Dallon Weekes, a boy who felt so unreal that Brendon thought he had been dreaming those first few months. It was a dream, in a way. But the reality with him ended up to be so much better than he could have made up.

Dallon always felt like a pipe dream. Now he was a forever, but Brendon still felt breathless every time he saw him.

“I can’t believe it’s over,” Brendon said honestly after a moment, finding himself reminiscing. For months he had been telling himself how much he hated it all, the high school experience, and for the most part that was true. He wasn’t going to miss getting picked on. Being known as diner boy everywhere he went. Soon he was going to be able to reinvent himself.

A lot of it was bad. But not all of it was.

“Getting all nostalgic? Wanna go back and do it all over?” Dallon teased, reaching out to poke at his thigh. Brendon laughed, as if he’d go back once it was all over, and Dallon added, “Seriously, though. If you could redo any of it, what would you redo?”

Brendon was silent for a moment as he thought it over. “Nothing.” He said honestly, and his answer shocked even himself. There were a million things he wished he could change. A million mistakes he had made. But they all made him who he was now. Stronger than he had been.

“Yeah?” Dallon asked, seemingly surprised.

“Yeah. I think that— even though most of my high school career sucked, it all made me who I am. I mean, if I didn’t spend so much of it being scared, I would have been a completely different person. Maybe I would have done something stupid. Maybe I’d be one of those party boys who slept with random people and drank all the time. And if I didn’t come out on Instagram sophomore year then maybe I never would have, and I would’ve been too nervous to try with you. And if I wasn’t basically hated by everyone at this school then I wouldn’t have bumped into you all the time before we were friends. I mean, things happen for a reason, right? All this bad stuff happened, but if you look where I am now, all of it led me here. I can’t be that mad, cause I know it all led me to you. I’m grateful for that.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Dallon agreed, and didn’t add that he was proud of him for the realization. It was hard to come to terms with all the bad things. Especially for someone like Brendon who had spent so long resenting them.

He let Dallon spend one more morning with his friends by Josh’s car and he went into the school, leaving Tyler by the entrance so he could run one last little errand. Looking around as he walked through the school, heading up to the guidance wing.

Those hallways. They’d never treated him well. They had been the stomping grounds of boys who thought it was funny to shove him into lockers, teasing him for things he couldn’t control and making everybody stare. That was before he realized that attention could be a good thing if you learned how to spin it. He walked past a locker he’d never used, had never even learned the combination to, and headed up the stairs to the only place he felt safe in this place.

“Hey.” Brendon knocked on an open door and Ms. Kenny looked up from her desk when she heard him, surprised by the interruption. “Got any time to talk before I get the hell out of here?”

“Brendon.” She stood up, nodding, and as he shut her door she opened her arms for a hug. “Congratulations, honey. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you.” He laughed, hugging her back, and pulled away to smile because he was thankful for everything she did for him, in the end. He had been so reluctant to get help. So adverse to it. After everything, he really couldn’t see why. “Yeah, um. I’m kind of surprised. Pleasantly surprised. I never saw myself graduating. Not after what happened this year.” He admitted, scratching at the back of his neck. It felt surreal. Actually making it. For a minute there, he didn’t think he would even make it to eighteen. “But I’m here, I’m okay, I’m better than okay, and, uh. I’m moving in with Dallon this weekend.”

“Oh, Brendon. That’s amazing.” She put a hand to her chest, getting emotional because everyone tended to on the last day of school. “I know this year has been a lot for you but you made such tremendous progress. I’ve never seen a student focus so hard on trying to heal. It was inspiring to help you with your journey to recovery.”

“Thank you. I honestly couldn’t have done it without you, so. Thank you for helping me.”

“Brendon.” She sighed, overly nostalgic about it. In a way, she’d helped him grow. Change. Become a better person. He couldn’t thank her enough for all that. “You’re one of those kids that make my job worth it. I hope you’ll stay in touch. Come back and visit.”

“I will. I promise.” And he did. “I have no plans to leave BC anytime soon. So who knows, maybe my kids will be coming to you to dump all their problems on.”

She laughed; he was going to miss the way she looked at him with pride when he said things like that. Inferred that he had a future. Because he did, and he knew that now. “I’m looking forward to it, then. I’ll see you tomorrow at graduation, Brendon.” She hugged him again and he smiled, nodding. Graduation. He didn’t ever think he was going to make it that far.

This was all so surreal.

Brendon caught up with Dallon again after class and hooked an around him, not bothering with a greeting as Dallon could have figured it was him. “So, our appointment is tonight at six.” He told him, walking with him through the hall where people had looked at and judged them a million times before. “You wanna hang out until then?”

“Actually, I’m going out for milkshakes with Ryan and Josh. Like we used to.” He caught Brendon’s smile, because he knew it meant something to him. It always did. Their nostalgia, recovering an old, pure friendship that had been somewhat lost for a while in a mix of bad feelings. “We figured we’d bring back the old tradition one more time before Josh moves and we all go our separate ways.”

“Don’t say that. It feels so final.” He hooked an arm around his waist, pouting at the sound of it. Their separate ways. He didn’t want to think about the end of the summer and how it was going to feel to let them go. “Ryan’s literally going to the same school as me. And Tyler is my best friend. It’s gonna stay that way. A little distance is nothing.”

“I know. You guys will manage.” They stopped in front of their classroom and Dallon didn’t let him go, finding himself just as attached as ever, even knowing that they would barely be apart from now on. “I’ll drop you off at home and pick you back up at four thirty. We’ll get dinner before the appointment. They say you should have food in you. Get ready.”

Brendon grinned cheekily, and the bell rang as they ducked into their classroom for the very last time. “Oh, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

* * *

“Wait-“

“They haven’t done anything yet, Brendon.”

Brendon pouted and crossed his arms uncomfortably, as if trying in a way to defend himself. He was never very good with pain. Not unless it was under his control and volition. And one could argue that this was that, because it was his decision, after all, nobody else contributed; in fact, his mother had said no, but the boy was eighteen, and it was his graduation present to himself. Like getting promise rings, except more permanent. Dallon was more permanent than that to him.

He liked the idea of tattooing wedding bands on their fingers, but his parents gave him conditions and that didn’t exactly fit.

“We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” Dallon comforted, shifting in his seat and starting to get uncomfortable with the awkward position. “But this was your idea.”

“It was as much of your idea as it was mine.” Brendon figured. “Besides, you can’t blame me. This was an impulse decision.”

“That was the point. You wanted to do it spontaneously so you wouldn’t have time to be scared.” He bumped his fist against Brendon’s, smiling that smile that wasn’t really a smile. “Let’s do it. No regrets.”

“Okay. Yeah. No regrets.” He took Dallon’s hand, and could feel the outline of a heart on the back of his neck as the artist started tattooing it on otherwise pristine flesh.

It was small. More meaningful than it was flashy. Just a little heart, colored in half black and half white as if a ying and yang. Because they completed each other. Filled in missing pieces of each other.

It meant something. That they were eternally bound. That instead of eyes on the back of his head, Brendon Urie saw with lenses of pure love. Something not many people did anymore, though he was unique in that regard. His lover had always thought so.

“So.” Dallon touched the back of his neck, the skin sore where the tiny tattoo sat. “We’re like, stuck together now. You can never leave me.”

“Hey.” Brendon bumped their shoulders together, and he felt warm inside when he thought about it. Just a few days. A few days, and their lives would be lived as one. “I wasn’t ever planning on it.”

* * *

“I can’t believe you got a tattoo.” Brendon’s mother sighed from the front seat, making him roll his eyes but smile at his boyfriend beside him as they carpooled to school after taking a few grad photos. “I thought we established-“

“That I couldn’t get one until I was an adult.” He interrupted; he had heard the lecture before. “Which I am. I’m moving out this weekend, mama. And it’s like, the size of an ant. Chill.” He reached up instinctively to touch the back of his neck, feeling raised skin that was still just the slightest bit sore. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. It only bled a little bit, but it looked nice and felt as final as it was. Matching tattoos. It complemented their milestones perfectly.

She sighed again, saying nothing because she knew what he had been like lately. Defiant. Stronger. In spite of his decisions, she loved that he was growing into his own person.

They pulled into the parking lot for the very last time and Brendon felt himself shaking as Dallon took his hand and led him to the doors.

They stood in the gym awkwardly as their parents took photos, overjoyed even though the ceremony hadn’t even started yet. “Mom, seriously.” Brendon whined, an arm staged around Dallon’s waist.

“You got a tattoo without asking me. I’ll do whatever I damn well please.” She retorted, just a little bit of bite, and he supposed it was a fair argument. He rolled his eyes but put a smile on again, letting her capture another photo of his last moments as a high schooler.

All of a sudden their principal made an announcement for the graduating seniors to take their places, and Dallon pulled away. “Okay. That’s us. Let’s go find our seats.” Dallon nodded his head toward the front row of seats and took a step away but Brendon reached out to capture his wrist quickly before he could get away.

“Wait, Dal. I wanna give you something.” He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled it out to reveal a folded-up piece of paper, eliciting a look of confusion on Dallon’s face. “A graduation present. Open it later, okay?”

Dallon nodded and accepted the paper, giving it a skeptical look, before he slid it into the pocket of his jeans underneath his gown. “Okay.” He agreed, stomach flipping, and Brendon smiled excitedly before he grabbed Dallon’s hand and led him toward their seats. Brendon let his eyes wander, toward where everyone was finding their own places as music started to play and people quieted down, ready for the ceremony to begin. Ready to close one door and open another.

“Shane would be sitting in between us if he hadn’t gotten expelled,” Brendon thought out loud as he took a seat beside Dallon in the long line of seniors who were to be called on stage. U, V, W.

“Yeah, he would.” Dallon slid his hand discreetly into Brendon’s, an act of protection. A promise. “Funny how things work out.”

“Funny how they do.” Brendon agreed quietly as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. This was it, the end of a long four years. All he’d ever known. And it was scary, being tossed into the real world with little to no experience, but this was what he wanted. To move on, let go, bury old hatchets and keep maps hidden just in case. Some things didn’t change.

Brendon clapped for his friends and peers as they climbed the stairs and accepted their diplomas, one by one and each with their own unique smiles that said hey, I made it. And he smiled too, felt Dallon’s comforting presence beside him as anxiety stirred in the pit of his stomach while the line neared closer to him. And then the girl five seats down was called, and the girl next to her, and the boy next to her, and the girl next to him, and the boy beside Brendon, and then-

“Brendon Urie.”

And as he stood up shakily, applause erupted from around him, and had it been that loud during the rest of the ceremony? He walked toward the step, careful not to trip, why was the gown so long, he was so short, he was pretty sure his shoe was untied, oh god, his shoes didn’t even have laces, he was sweaty, it was hot, why didn’t they have fans? Why were there so many stairs? So many stares. As he accepted his diploma, God, that was surreal, he glanced out into the crowd of people to see his family standing and clapping and yelling for him, bright smiles decorating their proud faces, and his friends, his best friends, celebrating his victory.

And there in the front row was a beautiful blue-eyed boy taking it all in, not screaming like Tyler and Josh and Ryan and his family, just standing, clapping, smiling. But the look in his eye was undeniable: pride. Complete and utter pride.

But still, people clapped, called his name, yelled out diner boy, little Urie, sure, that was him. This was his day. He was anxious and hated the attention but that couldn’t be changed. By the time November of senior year kicked off, everybody knew who he was. He was scared of that at first, having a history of being a little too frightened by the prospect of people, but at some point people had gained respect for the kid who down spiraled so excruciatingly that year. The notorious little diner boy, graduating all in one piece. Glued together after he had broken a few times, but still as put together as he could be. Who knew?

He almost tripped ascending the staircase, but he caught himself before he could. And great, just his luck, he was an idiot, he really was. But people saw it and they laughed, but he was laughing too, and it was all good hearted. He grinned brightly and made his way back to his seat, holding his diploma in hand, and then Dallon Weekes was announced from the stage and Brendon couldn’t fucking help himself, he was damn proud of Dallon too. He may not have announced his skeletons to the world but he still had them. And he made it through just as well as Brendon, ten times braver and a hell of a lot stronger.

Dallon took a few steps toward the staircase as Brendon made his way back to his seat, and as they intersected, Dallon gave him a smile. A perfect smile that made every inch of Brendon warm from the top of his head to his toes, and he really couldn’t help it. He grabbed Dallon by the waist and pulled him into a kiss before he could make his way to the stage, hundreds of people watching and all of them still clapping, because Brendon had fought his battles. He’d been ridiculed and bullied, teased and ostracized, he’d been taken advantage of and hurt and victimized, and for once he wanted to be proudly victorious. And he wanted Dallon to be proudly victorious too.

Dallon laughed against his mouth, surprised but pleasantly so, and there were a few camera clicks from the professional photographer, and Brendon’s mother would chase him down for a copy later, Brendon already knew. And Matt would give him a fist bump and tell him that that was how to leave a mark, set yourself in stone, change history one milestone at a time. And Kara would hug him tight and pick him up and tell him she was proud, and Tyler would run over and tell him that he probably got half the senior class all hot with a kiss like that, because he felt that kiss down to his toes.

Dallon pulled away from him and grinned with adoration, eyes sparkling, before he hurried up the stairs after already having lost a minute in all the commotion. Brendon clapped, hands high above his head to let them know that he was the proudest of that boy right there. Brendon’s family cheered for Dallon, and Dallon’s mom had tears in her eyes, touched by the scene of her boy reaching milestones his father would never get to see, milestones Dallon never thought he would reach himself, but he would be proud of his son. Brendon knew it.

As Dallon left the stage gracefully and took his seat beside a grinning Brendon, they looked at each other and laughed. Not a single word was exchanged but they laughed hard like they were in on a joke no one else understood. And maybe they were, or maybe it was something the rest of the world would never feel. A visceral feeling of pride in each other that ran deep in the vein of their reverence. And in that moment Brendon knew: he would never stop being proud of Dallon.

As the ceremony ended, Brendon was caught up in a perfect storm of hugs and kisses and congratulations. He stood in between Dallon and Tyler, with Ryan and Josh on either side, letting all of their parents take photos of them as the smile on his face grew uncomfortable. They made them pose and smile and make stupid faces, just photos to frame as soon as they settled down for the summer, and Brendon laughed when his mom took off to find the photographer for that photo. His father captured photos of Brendon and his siblings, his friends, teachers, anyone he could pester Brendon into standing beside.

Dallon’s arm hooked around Brendon’s neck as he held him close, too close to be casual, and rested his temple atop Brendon’s head, grinning wide. Brendon laughed, captured his body in a hug, and a few pictures were snapped before Dallon pulled away to press a kiss to Brendon’s lips. They were interrupted by Ryan’s brother, who congratulated Dallon with a huge hug and insisted on some pictures while Brendon himself went to find his friends. Ryan’s mom stopped him at some point and insisted on getting a few photos of he and Ryan, and his friends’ parents were so damn emotional today. He wrapped his arms around him and smiled.

“We’re fucking high school graduates, baby Urie.” Tyler announced when Brendon had stumbled into him, a grin lingering from a congratulations from his math teacher that he’d received on his way back from giving his mother his cap and gown, it was getting way too hot in the gym, where the celebration had migrated from the auditorium.

“God, yeah.” Brendon laughed breathily and looked around the room. Balloons and streamers and confetti littered the ground, families and students and faculty celebrated around him, and all he could think was fuck, he actually made it. Just two months prior he was... well. He wasn’t okay. And now he was moving on, moving out.

Every time Brendon ran into his friends all at once someone seemed to want to capture the moment. They laughed, scolded their parents playfully, but always complied. This time he climbed onto Dallon’s back not so gracefully, arms hanging over his chest, and rested his chin on top of his head while his friends posed around them. And they dispersed when Dan abducted a blushing Ryan to take a few photos, and Tyler and Josh were corralled into a few family photos, and Kara grabbed Brendon’s arm to get a few pictures of him with a docile baby Luca in his arms. And Dallon watched amiably before he took the chance to sneak away, down the hall to the school bathroom.

He closed himself into the vacant bathroom and sighed heavily, a little overwhelmed, as he made his way toward the sink. His body was thrumming with excitement and his hands trembled, God knows why, but he was happy. Happy to be getting out of high school and starting a life with Brendon, happy to be free and happy that he actually made it. There were some days where he thought he wouldn’t, but stepping on stage felt like a victory for someone who a few years prior had the intention of never seeing his own graduation day.

He looked himself in the eye when he went to wash his face, a little sweaty and kind of exhausted but otherwise smiling. There was a lot of commotion out there, but he always liked the quiet. It was one of those secret little things he enjoyed that no one else knew. Even with all the people celebrating a victory that he shared with them, he liked the quiet. And Brendon was out there with their friends and his family, smiling like the past eight months hadn’t happened, and it was such a huge step. Brendon. Dallon had almost forgotten.

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the folded-up piece of notebook paper that Brendon had handed him earlier in the day, a flicker of misdemeanor in his bright eyes, mixed with just the right amount of adoration for it not to be suspicious. He was a good one, Dallon knew. He was damn good. With hands that had attempted to steady, he unfolded the paper and flattened it out, holding it by the corners to find Brendon’s handwriting scrawled across the page.

In the past two years I learned a million little lessons that I never knew someone could teach me. All my life I’ve wanted to know everything, and while I hope that one day I do, I’m satisfied with what you gave to me. You taught me a lot of things, Dallon, like how to put peppermint in your hot cocoa or how good it is to have the windows rolled down and the heat on high. How to properly tie a tie and how to make your pancakes the right size so that you don’t need four spatulas, how to find a confidence interval in statistics and why the creative process is important (and attractive!). How to use my words for good and how to move on from the worst. You came along and changed everything. I never saw it coming but that element of surprise made it better, somehow.

You taught me a lot in the two years that I’ve known you, and it was hard to choose just ten. But for a while I’ve been wracking my brain for something to give you for graduation and I know you appreciate things from the heart, so I want you to keep this, whether we end up married with kids or end on good terms or not. I know you’ll think back to me and smile, and things that make you smile are worth it. There’s a bonus thing you taught me! :) Hold these close to your heart whenever you feel like you couldn’t keep me safe. Because you made me feel a lot safer than I ever have. That’s more valuable to me than anything.

Ten Things You Taught Me (What I Learned from You)

1.) You taught me to believe in love at first sight. Love at first touch, smile, kiss. You taught me how to love for real. You taught me newfound hope, stars aligning, how to shine. You taught me desperate and fervent and thrilling feelings that I’d never thought I’d feel, and from you I learned how to be young and need somebody so badly that you’re absolutely vital. And if we hit a wall and explode, when the dust settles, I’ll be thankful.

2.) You taught me at such a tender age that what we do and what we are isn’t bad. That’s what I’ve been told by strangers all my life, that my love is immoral, that my love is wrong. But how can it be wrong when the taste of your skin is so sweet?

3.) I learned how to let myself change and change again. You told me that we have to grow up and I found that the world changes and I have to change too, but sometimes change isn’t bad. It was nothing like I feared.

4.) You taught me that love is a violent thing. That the world labels love as something beautiful but they don’t talk about the flaws. The ups and downs and heartbreak and beauty. The vices and virtues. The way that we fall apart and fall together. I fell in love violently and I’ll never regret it.

5.) I learned to open myself up unapologetically. To shout from the rooftops, to be heard. I’ve never felt heard, not until you told me to let my walls down and look for what I want when I want it. I learned to put myself first whenever I needed to.

6.) You explained to me that there is a world outside my room and that it needs to be discovered. You told me once that everything is what you make it, and since then I have learned to see the beauty in the little things. In everything.

7.) You taught me that you can crash and burn and become someone new. A replacement of your former self that has formed from the embers of who you used to be, I’m indifferent now but wait until I hit a wall and combust. I’ll come back like a phoenix, and you’ll be the first to see it.

8.) You taught me that fear can be found in most anything but bravery can too. I learned from you that to live, to really live, I have to let myself fall to be caught. I’ve opened myself up for you to crawl inside, and you’ve made a home. I hope my soul treats you well. Because you’ve taught me hospitality and heart.

9.) You showed me how to brave the storm, how to walk through the rain and how to come out changed. You taught me that trust takes time, but letting you in has made me a better me. And so when I think of the past two years, I think of you, the highlight. I think of what I learned from you. And while I’ve spent my whole life wishing I could know it all, I am content knowing that all that I could need right now has been taught to me already. You built me up, and you taught me how to be me.

10.) What I learned from you is that you can’t rush love. You let things take their course and keep your fingers crossed, you lay awake at night wondering. And then you use that bravery to make your move. You fight for it with everything you’ve got, even when the odds are against you. You can’t rush love, but you can put all of you into it and pray that it comes out alright.

(PS: Thanks to you, I kind of maybe know who I am. Just a little. You and I came out alright. Cheers to us.) Love, diner boy/baby Urie/your Brendon.

Dallon folded the paper back up with tears in his eyes, leaning over the sink to steady himself. He looked down at the porcelain and fixated his vision on it, Brendon’s words coursing through his body to make a home permanently in his brain. All this time he’d thought... he didn’t know what he thought. But this. This was everything. This was Brendon rising above everything he’d ever been scared of and coming to terms with the fact that things could change. He let Dallon change him. Dallon had never changed anyone before.

As a few tears slid down his cheeks, the sound of the bathroom door opening made Dallon look up and twist around suddenly, only to be met with a tiny boy with a big presence. Brendon smiled, looked a little relieved, and he let out a satisfied breath as he let his arms fall to his sides. “There you are. We’ve been looking for you! They’re playing music and having cake and I don’t wanna celebrate without you. C’mon!”

“Oh, right. Yeah.” Dallon smiled and turned back to the mirror, where he wiped his cheeks with his fingertips and exhaled shakily, not even bothering to hide it.

In his peripheral vision, Brendon took a few steps toward him, his eyes searching Dallon’s in the mirror. “What? What’s wrong?” He asked, sounding worried. Dallon shook his head and turned back around to face Brendon, who was looking up at him with big eyes that wanted nothing more than for them to be on the same page. But they were. They always were.

“No, nothing. I just, I read your letter.” He waved the folded piece of paper in between his fingertips, and Brendon’s eyes softened. He made him cry. “You changed everything for me too, Brendon. Two months before I met you I wanted to take my own life and now... now I can’t imagine not being here. I can’t imagine not being here with you.” He took his hands, swinging them back and forth idly but not catching the way Brendon gravitated toward him. “I know I worry about saving you but it’s an instinct to take care of people and you... you’re the most important person to me. Things haven’t always been easy for me, especially not in high school. With my dad dying and fighting with my friends and my mom dating again, everything that happened with you, you’ve been my rock. I can’t remember a time where I didn’t have you.” He stepped closer, mere inches away, in each other’s space and it wouldn’t be the first time. “I’m glad you fell for me when I fell for you because without you, I— I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be me. You gave me something to hold onto and I hope I did the same for you.”

Brendon shook his head in disbelief, speechless. “God, you did. You did, baby. Listen. You changed my life, Dallon. And I want you to know that. Every day, you changed my life, and I wouldn’t be me without you either.” Something in Brendon’s eyes held an irrefutable warmth that made Dallon’s heart flip in his chest. Here they were, the final moments of their high school career, and he was scared but he had a hand to hold as he stepped into the real world. And Brendon’s smile was shining, a smile that deserved to be seen, and he reached out for Dallon’s hand as his heart whispered to him just how lucky he was. “So thank you for making high school bearable, and I just... I hope you make the rest of my life bearable too.” He looked down with that shy smile on his lips and added, “I love you so much.”

And there were the words that had him wrapped around Brendon’s finger. A reminder that he wasn’t alone, no matter how many times the world had put it in his head. That the past two years of his life weren’t in vain because he had met his future, one he could see clearly and in focus. It was Brendon. It was always Brendon.

Dallon took his hands with both of his own and swung them a little in between them, making Brendon tilt his chin up to look him in the eye. “I love you too, Urie. And I love you for sticking it out and doing so well this year, even after everything that happened. I’m so proud of you. And that hits me sometimes and it makes me fall in love with you all over again.” He squeezed his hands like he needed to get the information through to him, and something in Brendon’s eyes sparkled. “You changed my life too. I’m not sure I would have gotten through the past two years without you by my side. So thank you too. Seriously.”

Brendon laughed just then, a mellifluous sound that made Dallon smile involuntarily, and then he was being pulled into the tightest hug he could muster. Brendon’s arms wrapped around his body and he buried his face against the side of his neck, inhaling heavily and smiling sweetly when Dallon held him close against him. They stood there in the middle of the school bathroom, holding each other in a quiet moment when just down the hall, their classmates were celebrating their descent into adulthood. The truth was they had done this together, too many days of high school were spent collapsing into each other when they had nowhere else to hide, hiding in each other instead. Now they were finding it in them to move on from the winter months that left them enervated, and the sun was finally breaking out.

“We’re having a moment in the school bathroom right now, can we talk about that?” Brendon said suddenly, his breath tickling Dallon’s neck.

Dallon laughed, pulled away to look at his boyfriend with clinquant blue eyes, rested his hand on his shoulder. Brendon laughed too, and it all seemed so absurd. They were graduating, leaving high school behind, but some things never changed. Maybe they were a little unorthodox, but everything Dallon had done in the past year was just a little arcane. Brendon was picking up on his mannerisms.

“We should get out of here.” Dallon placed a hand on his shoulder once more and began to guide him, but Brendon stopped to shake his head. He was soaking up every last memory. Even the detrimental ones.

“No, give me a second. This... this is where I met myself.” Brendon took a step back and looked around. Months ago he was in this bathroom in the midst of the worst day of his life, and now...

Now.

“I guess, um. I guess I realized here that I couldn’t go my whole life being naive. I had to grow up.” He reached down to tangle their fingers together, feeling like they were breaking some barriers. “I hated having to grow up. And I’m gonna have a really rough time, graduating and moving on and adapting to a new life. And I’m kind of dreading this, but in a way I know that it’s kind of important. I’ve gone through so many phases in this childhood. And I’m still the same kid I’ve always been, I’m still scared. But at least I’m not scared alone.”

“One day you won’t be scared.” Dallon promised, and it was like he knew something Brendon didn’t.

“I hope so.” Brendon said, because he didn’t want to predict anything anymore.

Dallon pulled him close and Brendon felt nostalgic, though nothing good had happened in this bathroom. He’d gotten locked in here during classes when his peers thought it would be funny to make him late. He cried in the stalls when people made fun of him. Got shoved into the sink and was hospitalized, threw up after sex ed, and... well. He didn’t want to think about it.

This bathroom was never a good thing. It just kind of changed who he was.

Brendon sighed, feeling this odd peace in his stomach, and there were so many things to worry about, so much anxiety to be had, but he couldn’t feel any of it. Dallon took his face in his hands, putting a blush on his cheeks because he always liked him in red, and Brendon could feel nothing but him. “I still think that you’re perfect, Brendon.” He admitted, and the words felt more honest, somehow, than they could have been all this time.

“I know you do.” Brendon laughed, and enveloped him in a hug because he had learned to trust from Dallon. That moved mountains for someone like him.

Their fingers were inextricable as they headed back to the gym, abandoning a bathroom that had ruined and made Brendon who he was today.

“I’ll be right back.” Dallon excused himself and Brendon only nodded, joining his sisters for a picture once his family had spotted him again.

He found Ryan with his family and pulled him aside without warning, itching to tell somebody what he’d been holding in for weeks. He knew now more than ever. His future. His Brendon. “Dal. Hey. I was looking for you. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Hi. I’ve just been holding this in for weeks and I really need to tell someone and I trust you. So. Can I tell you something crazy?” He asked, and Ryan’s eyes were accepting when he looked at him. That was one of the most beautiful things. He always accepted Dallon. Even when Dallon made it hard to. His words were quiet, like he were telling more of a secret than he ever had. “I bought a ring.”

Ryan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise; Dallon was expecting such a reaction. “A ring? Like,”

“An engagement ring.” Dallon confirmed, and realized almost immediately how crazy it sounded. A ring. An engagement ring. But it was so wrong that he found the person he wanted to be with forever the first time around?

“Dallon.” Ryan sighed, shaking his head in disbelief, not exactly disappointed. Just surprised. “Dal, you’re gonna ask him to marry you?”

“I know I wanna be with him for the rest of my life. I just know. I’m not gonna do it soon, or anything. I just did it to remind myself that I have a future. That I have something to live for. I needed to do it. And I just needed to tell someone.”

“I won’t say anything.” Ryan promised quickly, but his face faded from shock to a smile. “Dallon. You bought a ring.”

“Yeah.” Dallon laughed, and Ryan enveloped him in a hug, holding him tight against him as their peers buzzed with excitement around them.

He and Ryan had been a team for as long as he could remember. They took baths together as babies and had playdates as children and grew up together and Dallon had loved him, and maybe Ryan had loved him back. Things always happened for a reason, and the two of them happened because they both needed someone always in their corner. Through everything, Ryan was always in his corner.

“I’m really happy we’re still friends.” Dallon told him after a minute, overwhelmed.

Ryan was still smiling when he pulled away, leaving an arm on Dallon’s side. “I’m really happy we’re still friends too, Dal.” He said, just for the record, and Dallon knew. “Hey, let’s go celebrate. We’re graduates. We’re gonna make something of ourselves.”

Dallon nodded, because it was a promise he’d made himself. He was going to make something of himself. He was going to make a life for himself. He looked across the room, at Brendon Urie, this perfect imperfect boy that he’d fallen so stupidly in love with, and he was going to make a life for them.

“Yeah. I’ll be back. I’ll find you.” He told him, and Ryan nodded as he let him go.

Brendon pulled away from a photo and laughed to himself as he got a single second alone. A fleeting second, because in a world so fast paced, everything was fleeting. And as he looked around the room to see his classmates smiling, laughing, holding their diplomas and kicking balloons and dancing to the music playing in the background, he realized that everything he’d once believed was untrue. He didn’t need perpetual happiness, just like intense misery wasn’t permanent. Life was full of little interruptions, and people were a mosaic of good and bad. Maybe life was the same way.

So maybe the fleeting moments of happiness helped make up who Brendon was. Who he used to be and who he would be. Maybe it just gave him something to look forward to, the little moments of starlight that slowly remedied the unseeable past. He looked away from the crowd and toward Dallon, the boy who taught him love. And in the midst of all the noise, he could only look at him, because there were people you just came back to.

And as Dallon took his hand and pulled him close to dance, a silent request to celebrate their fleeting moment of happiness, he let himself smile.


	75. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I worked on this story for over three years, and I'm amazed that I stuck to it and felt confident enough in it to post it. Listen, if you liked it, you should totally support me and buy it off of Amazon! Volumes 2 & 3 will be released on there too, and I think you'll like what I've done with it.  
> Anyway, if anybody ever wants to talk about writing or my characters or has any questions, you can always feel free to message me! I love talking to people, especially about this story. This thing is my baby. Thank you for giving it the attention you have. <3

“Brendon, I swear to you, we are not putting that up in our house.”

Brendon whipped around with the beloved frame in hand, standing defiant against a disbelieving Dallon. “Yes we are! When we got this place we promised each other one pass. If you get to hang up that picture of me from the beach where I’m all sweaty and half naked then I get to hang this up.” He made a wide gesture toward the frame that was sitting on the ground against the couch, a photograph of Brendon walking on the beach in California from the summer, unbeknownst to the boy documenting it behind him. He was bluffing, and he quite liked the photo, but... he just really wanted to get his way.

“Bren, it’s literally a crayon drawing of a dinosaur holding a cake.” Dallon gestured defeatedly to the frame in Brendon’s grip. And quite frankly, he was insulted. He had stared at the ceiling for a good twenty minutes trying to replicate it properly with whatever supplies he had. Maybe it looked like a kindergartener had drawn it, but just as well: he met that dinosaur back then. He was a staple of his childhood and he would bring a version of him to his new home whether Dallon liked it or not.

“Come on, Dal! You know what that dinosaur means to me. It’s his son. He’s grown. So have we.” Brendon begged, sticking out his bottom lip in a petulant pout and bouncing up and down on his heels.

Dallon sighed and took the frame out of Brendon’s hands, letting his eyes wander over it. It meant a lot to Brendon, and on the first night in their new home, he needed to be comfortable. He needed to feel safe. That was what it was all about. He shook his head, ashamed in himself for giving in, and quelled, “Okay, fine. Since it means so much to you. But that photo is going right over the couch.” He added the ultimatum with a gesture to his own chosen photo, stepping closer to Brendon with an inviting smile now that that had been settled.

“And dinosaur holding a cake is going right over our bed.” Brendon snatched the frame in interruption of the imminent moment between the two and giggled as he took off down the hallway, almost slipping in his socks on the freshly waxed wood floors.

He could hear Dallon laugh back in their little living room before he chased him to their room; an insistent Brendon was already standing on the queen-sized bed, hanging up the crayon drawing on the nail in the center of the wall. And okay, now that he was seeing it, it did look a little childish, but that was Brendon. A little childish at heart. He could hardly be judged for that.

Dallon entered the room with a grin and approached him fast, wrapping both arms around his waist and pulling him in. Brendon almost tripped, his sock-clad feet slipping against the smooth material of their sheets, but Dallon caught him in his arms and held him tight, close, like he’d never let him go again. Brendon giggled, dipped his head to press his forehead to Dallon’s, held onto the sides of his neck like he were the only thing to ever stabilize him, full of misdemeanor and wild, too wild to ever feel tame again. But he’d watch Dallon be the one to save him.

He’d always had Dallon to be the one to save him.

Dallon placed him back down on the floor safely and ran a hand over his chest. “You’re gonna make this so damn hard, aren’t you?”

Living together, maybe in sin, but they were firm believers in themselves and their love. That was religious in itself. Brendon nodded slowly, eyes sparkling, because he’d take advantage of this new life all he can. His new life with Dallon. “As much as I possibly can. Because no matter what I do, no matter how loud I sing or how much I make shitty food in the middle of the night and no matter how many times you have to pick up my messes, I know you’re not gonna leave. You’re gonna stick it out, cause that’s what you do when you love someone. When you really love someone. You smile and shake your head and sing with me or join me in the kitchen and make the mess with me. You be my partner. Not just my boyfriend.”

Dallon smiled back, and all at once he realized how happy he’d be in this home. He’d get homesick, sure he would, but with Brendon everything wrong was remedied. “You’ve got this all planned out, huh?”

Brendon was grinning now, like he could see into their future and both of them were still here, standing in their bedroom looking at each other like they put the goddamn stars in the sky and hung the moon and painted the universe. Brendon black and Dallon golden, but between the two of them, they had the whole world in their hands. The celestial night skies and pastel colored faded sunsets that fizzled out too soon but lasted forever in their minds. Burning, saturated sunrises that shone with iridescence and burning desire, bleeding into an azure blue sky. They had it all. They held the world, spun the stars.

Yes, the two of them, standing here in their bedroom looking at each other. Something sempiternal. “I always have everything planned out, I think you forgot.”

“Trust me, Urie, I haven’t forgotten.” Letting his eyes flutter shut, he pressed his lips to the patient ones in front of him, fingers playing with the tips of Brendon’s hair. And as he parted from his mouth he sighed out a hot, sweet breath, making Brendon shudder. And then— “Hey, I have something for you.” Dallon announced suddenly, pulling away from a blushing Brendon to take his hand and tug him out of the room. “Gimme a sec, I gotta find it.”

Brendon stood by and rocked back and forth on his heels, watching Dallon root through one of the boxes on the opposite side of the living room. In the few days they’d had to move in, they’d managed to make themselves at home with everything they could agree on. The apartment was one big burst of color, with plants and flowers in colorful planters on the windowsill and variegated throw pillows on the couch, right by a mismatched quilt and a soft yellow blanket that Brendon had picked out when they went shopping the weekend prior, looking for simple decorations and coming back with a bunch of stuff that looked like it had come straight out of the sun’s personal apartment.

An old rice cooker sat in the corner of the balcony, holding soil and a tiny sprout of a plant that would grow because Brendon had planted a seed, and maybe he wasn’t great at keeping things alive but he was still trying, and this part of his life was what had stuck. He smiled to himself as his eyes wandered around the room, and hell, they even had pets. Brendon had dragged Dallon into a pet store at the mall and they maybe accidentally walked out with a tank and eight fish— Sushi, Sea Beast, Pirate, Shimmy, Humuhumu, Freckles, Snorkel, and Wiggly— who were happily swimming around in their new tank. Things were really coming together, and Brendon was forgetting how conflicted he’d been to be leaving home.

A box labeled books sat on the coffee table, mostly Dallon’s collection, but Brendon’s psychology textbook and self-proclaimed baby was making friends with its new housemates. Beside it was another box labeled art #1, full of paints, and Dallon went to search those boxes. He was a little disorganized sometimes, Brendon knew the house would end up looking like his bedroom, but living with Brendon would be a contradiction if there ever were one. Dallon muttered an apology for taking so long, he thought he’d put it in his backpack but maybe then he left it in the box with the books or maybe the art stuff, but Brendon just laughed. If this was what his life was then he couldn’t wait for the rest of it.

“Yes! Okay. I got it.” He held something up in victory, and Brendon smiled warmly when Dallon handed it to him. It was a dictionary with plain black binding, beautiful in its simplicity, and that wasn’t quite what Brendon was expecting.

“Are you suggesting I need new words in my vocabulary?” Brendon asked skeptically, smiling still, and looked up to see a warm look in Dallon’s eyes. There was more to it. There always was.

“You told me that you like writing and you wanna do more of it, I figure this is a good place to start. You don’t have to actually use it, I know you have the internet and that’s much more efficient, but this is kind of an art piece. Flip a few pages.” He nodded his head toward the dictionary, and Brendon gave him a strange look before he did as he was told.

He thumbed through a few pages and landed on one with a word highlighted with pink colored pencil. Astonishing: extremely surprising or impressive; amazing. And a sketch of Brendon adorned the margin, colored with a blush on his cheeks, and he looked up at Dallon in disbelief but he nodded his head again, told him to keep going. So Brendon flipped the pages, beautiful, creative, daring, estimable, euphonious, intelligent, pugnacious, resilient. Each one beside a sketch of him, his hands, his eyes, his features, each a statement of its own.

“This is so sweet of you, Dallon.” Brendon said, holding the book to his chest. Loved it, cherished it, because he held Dallon close to his heart too and sometimes things turned out so beautifully when he took a chance on them.

“Just wanted to remind you of your worth.” Dallon said, and he swiped his thumb over Brendon’s chin playfully. And Brendon’s favorite was innocent, a simple word, a beautiful word. Because for so long he had lost that, but for the first time in months he was starting to see that not only the bad things defined him. The good things did, too.

“I am so madly in love with you,” Brendon whispered, words he had spoken before, though each time they became truer, purer. Dallon’s eyes flickered with adoration and his socked feet bumped against Brendon’s when he stepped forward, so stupidly excited.

“I’m even more madly in love with you.” He whispered, and Brendon grinned, tilted his head up like a child on Christmas, inexplicably happy. Like he finally had everything he’d ever wanted. And it was all still there, the hurt, the doubt, the thought that maybe he would be forever changed. And maybe he was. Maybe he was meant to be. Things weren’t supposed to stay the same. Nothing was consistent, and he was starting to figure out how to navigate that.

“Nuh-uh.” He bumped his nose against Dallon’s, giggling riantly. “Roomie.”

“Roomie.” Dallon repeated softly. Brendon looked up, smiling, and Dallon smiled too. And maybe things changed but he and Dallon were still them, maybe a little stronger and maybe more connected, in a way. But they were still them. And Brendon Urie had a plan, had everything set in stone, but Dallon had a way of making the tables turn, anyway. Dallon placed a hand on his cheek, flushed pink, and said, “I’ve got some stuff for you to organize.”

And, well, all his life Brendon had planned. Sorted things into boxes and compartmentalized and dwelled over useless fragments because it was just who he was. He needed to be in control. He needed to feel comfort in familiarity. But he found that later in a blue-eyed boy’s touch. And he found himself, too. Found himself realizing that nothing was as simple as he’d once imagined it would be. Realizing that setting a trail meant nothing when the world had other plans.

Realizing that searching was useless, because what you were looking for always found you.

Brendon reached up to loop his fingers around his wrist, grinning back with childish excitement and an unmistakable warmth spreading throughout his chest. He nodded, like just then he realized: “I can do that.”


End file.
